Page 27 of Duty Compromised
Which, in a way, she was.
I waited until she’d settled into her usual corner spot, unpacking her lunch with the kind of precise movements that suggested routine was one of the few things keeping her grounded. Then I walked in, trying to project casual confidence despite the knot in my stomach.
“Mind if I join you?”
Charlotte’s head snapped up, her eyes widening behind her glasses. “I… What?”
“It’s lunchtime. You’re eating lunch. I thought I’d eat lunch too.” I held up the sandwich I’d grabbed from a deli on my way in this morning. “Unless you prefer to eat alone?”
“I don’t prefer it,” she said quietly, then seemed surprised she’d admitted that. “I mean, I’m used to it.”
“Used to and prefer are different things.” I pulled out the chair across from her, moving slowly like I was approaching a spooked animal. “May I?”
She nodded, returning her attention to her laptop screen, fingers flying across the keyboard even as she unwrapped what looked like a homemade sandwich.
“What are you working on?” I asked.
“Error logs from this morning’s test run.” She took a bite of her sandwich without looking away from the screen. “There’s a recursive loop in the stabilization sequence that’s causing memory overflow.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It is.”
We sat in silence for a moment. She continued typing one-handed while eating, completely absorbed in her work. I noticed she’d cut her sandwich into perfect triangles, arranged her apple slices in a small container, and had cookies in a separate compartment of her lunch box.
“You make your own lunch every day?”
She glanced up, suspicious. “Yes. Although I don’t always remember to eat it. Why?”
“Just curious. That’s impressive. I usually just grab whatever’s closest.”
“If that’s a strategy that works for you…”
“Usually, it works.” I unwrapped my own sandwich—chicken salad from the deli. “What do you have today?”
“Turkey sandwich.” She paused, then pushed the container of cookies toward me. “Chocolate chip. I brought too many.”
I took one. Store-bought, but good quality. The kind that came from the bakery section rather than a package.
“Thanks,” I said after the first bite.
She shrugged, still focused on her screen. “They had them at the grocery store. I grabbed extra.”
“Smart thinking.” I reached for another. “With six kids, there never seemed to be enough cookies to go around.”
She looked up again, genuine curiosity replacing the wariness. “Six kids?”
“Yep. I have three brothers and two sisters.”
“That must have been…loud.”
“Still is when we’re all together. And sometimes just chaotic when we’re one-on-one. Last month, my brother Leonard called me at three in the morning because his math class adopted a goldfish as their mascot, and he couldn’t remember if you’re supposed to feed it once or twice a day.”
“Once. Overfeeding is the most common cause of goldfish mortality.”
“I’ll let him know.” I took another bite of cookie. “You know about goldfish?”
“I know about a lot of things. It’s easier than knowing about people.”
