In a New York Minute(45)

“I was joking,” he answered, his smile sheepish. “I, uh, I guess I want other people to walk in here and…get a sense of who I am.”

“And who’s that exactly?” I leaned forward in my seat, genuinely curious.

Before he could answer, the elevator dinged, the sound slicing through whatever tension this conversation was bubbling up between us. The doors opened, and out walked the kind of woman who made me do a double take when I passed her on the street: warm brown skin, enviable thick curls, giant tortoiseshell glasses, a killer red lip. I made a mental note to ask her who made that lip color. I needed it. Cleo and Lola needed it. Hell, every woman needed a red this good.

She was decked out in a black silk jumpsuit and sky-high black clogs, but the simplicity of it all made her seem incredibly fancy. In one hand, she held a bag of crackers; a tote bag dangled from the other. I wanted to be her best friend, and I didn’t even know her.

“Eleanor Lewis,” she said, bright and self-possessed. “Hayes’s cofounder. I hate the term ‘work wife,’ but that’s essentially what I am.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Her handshake was firm and warm.

“He told you this was my idea first, right?” she said, leaning in conspiratorially. “I don’t want him to get all the credit for hiring you.”

I laughed at this; I liked her instantly.

Hayes stood and offered her his seat. “I was going to give you all the credit, El,” he said.

She waved him off and tucked the crackers into the giant tote—a creamy, soft leather—and dug around, yanking out an ultrasound picture, shoving it toward Hayes. “Look at this cute little alien face.”

Hayes lit up in a way I hadn’t seen before. Genuine excitement and joy flashed across his whole body all at once. Brows relaxed, jaw unclenched, shoulders back. “Shit, El,” he said, grabbing the strip of images out of her hand. Smiling. “Look at that. Beautiful.”

“This kid better be a MacArthur genius, considering how much they’ve made me throw up. Speaking of, I’m due for a cracker break.”

It was clear in just that small moment how much they cared about each other. I smiled and offered my congratulations, and—after a saltine break for Eleanor—we walked around the perimeter of the office.

“Okay, so the goal for the open floor plan and communal workspace is to warm it up but not overpower it,” I said as Eleanor and Hayes trailed behind me. “We play up the natural aesthetics of the building—the windows, the light, the wood—but add elements that make it more inviting, so you feel good as soon as you enter. Your employees and clients too.”

I glanced back to gauge their response. Eleanor nodded thoughtfully. Hayes’s face was unreadable; it was impossible to know if he hated everything I was saying or was just processing it all. But then our eyes connected, and instead of turning away from me, he smiled, brows raised, the kind of face someone gives to say “I like it. I’m impressed. Well done.”

It kicked something on inside me, sent my confidence whirring. “Hayes and I had a chance to talk about his own office a bit, and, Eleanor, I’d love to connect with you about your space.” I led us into the corner office he’d flagged as hers.

“The only thing I have to have are my pictures hanging somewhere,” she said.

“You’re a photographer?” I asked, wondering how much more impressive this already impressive woman would get.

“Amateur,” she said, “but way too into it. And I like to think I’m somewhat decent.”

She walked over to the wall, running her hand over the ridges of red brick. “I mostly photograph surfers,” she said. “The ocean. Beach towns.”

“So water, nature,” I mused, brainstorming.

“All that. Every time I’m near the water, I feel like I’m in my element.”

“You mean more than when you’re running a board meeting?” Hayes teased from behind me.

Eleanor snorted. “That’s enough, thank you,” she said, giving him the finger before turning back to me. “Hayes acts tough, but he cries watching Pixar movies.”

“Hey, just in Up,” he said defensively. Then to me, with a shrug, “When the wife dies.”

He turned, hands in pockets, but not before I could see the faint hint of color on his cheeks. I noticed this about him now; he played it cool, but something warmer was always lurking underneath. If he had been looking back at me, he would have seen me smiling in his direction.

Eleanor and I followed him out into the main area. “I think we can create a sophisticated and inviting space for you that’s very organic too,” I said.

“I trust you,” Eleanor said. “Oh, and I’d like to make that spare office a spot for parents. I need a place to use my breast pump.”

“Of course,” I said, excited about the idea. “A place for the breast to rest.”

Oh god. I clenched my teeth, cringing at my ability to always say too much. “Sorry, that came out all wrong.”

Eleanor laughed. “Actually, it was just right.” She gave me an approving look. “On that note, I need to get home before I have to lie down on the floor here. Great to meet you, Franny. Thanks for taking this on.”

She leaned in toward me, grabbing my elbow affectionately. “For taking us on,” she said.