Norman sat in the small chair and jumped when Mr. Smith banged the office door shut and came back to his desk.
“Young man, if I see you with Ms. Cassata one more time, you’re fired. Now get back to your desk and work.”
That had certainly been succinct, Norman thought. Here he was, in the middle of designing the Pennsylvania Hospital wing, spending time his luscious girlfriend on weekends away from work. How could he give up Cristina? She fascinated him with her sarcastic remarks, her knowledge of literature, her love of all things Philadelphia.
But Norman couldn’t get around Smith’s iron-clad rule – no socializing between the architects and the secretaries. If it weren’t for the meddling eyes of Mrs. Weisskopf, the itinerant matchmaker, Norman could get away with it. But she’d find them out, even if they snuck off to Pottstown, Doylestown, or somewhere no Philadelphian could be seen. But how would they afford the train tickets? He had no money ... now that he’d spent all his savngs on a sapphire fleur de lys for Cristina’s birthday last month.
Norman walked back to his desk – but couldn’t avoid Cristina’s desk. It stood right outside Mr. Smith’s office. So he looked the other way. He knew she was staring at him, wondering what was the matter. But he couldn’t bring himself to look back at her. It hurt too greatly.
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