Elara's nervous laughter faded, replaced by a feeling of dizzying possibility. The "Daily Grind" suddenly felt less like a rushed stop and more like the center of the universe.
"The coffee, absolutely," she agreed, her hand still hovering over the now-empty table. "But the blueprint… I really am sorry. That looked incredibly complicated."
Rhys gathered the soaked paper, rolling it carefully. "It is, but it's not the end of the world. Just a setback. This project, the new City Hall wing, is important, and I was actually stuck on a design element. A crisis often forces a creative solution, they say." He stood up, towering over her just a bit, which she liked. He was still wearing the now-permanently-speckled white shirt. "So, another Americano for me, and what do you drink, Elara?"
"Just a plain latte, please," she said, quickly adding, "And let me pay for it. I caused the catastrophe, remember."
"A fair trade," Rhys conceded with a smile that crinkled the thoughtful corners of his eyes.
As they stood in the short line, the subject of her massive, sagging canvas bag came up.
"What's in here?" Rhys asked, gesturing to the bag. "Looks heavy. Are you transporting bricks?"
"Almost," she chuckled. "Sketchbooks. And art supplies. I teach a couple of classes at the community center, but mostly I'm just… trying to be an artist. I work in ink and watercolor."
"An artist," Rhys repeated, his tone intrigued. "I'm an architect. We are, functionally, very distant cousins. I draw lines that must stand up, and you draw lines that just need to be beautiful."
When they sat down again…at a much safer, larger table this time, Rhys unrolled the damaged blueprint. The edges were dark brown, the ink blurring slightly where the liquid had spread.
"The tragedy is here," he pointed. "The entire loading dock access and the storm drain layout for the new annex."
Elara leaned in, studying the lines. Despite the complexity, she found herself oddly drawn to the technical precision. "Could you… trace it over?"
"It would take me a full day to redraw the whole thing from scratch," Rhys sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've already missed my meeting with the contractor. The deadline is tomorrow."
An idea, impulsive and a little terrifying, sprang to Elara's mind.
"I can't draw a drainage system, but I am very good at tracing," she offered, surprising herself. "My hand is steady. If you have the original digital file, I could trace the lines onto vellum for you. It would salvage the core design before the paper completely warps. It's definitely faster than redrawing."
Rhys looked from the ruined blueprint to Elara's earnest, slightly hopeful face. The thought of entrusting his most important drawing to a complete stranger was professional madness. But the thought of spending an afternoon with the person who smelled faintly of old paper and fresh air was suddenly very appealing.
He reached for his phone. "Elara, you are either the most clumsy person I've ever met or the universe's most bizarre assistant. Let's find out. My studio is only two blocks away."