Claire looked out at the snow.
“I wanted fashion,” she said after a moment. “I thought I did. I like clothes. I like images.
I like when somebody wears something and suddenly understands the version of herself she’s been avoiding.” She smiled faintly. “But the magazine part is exhausting. Everyone is performing taste for everyone else.”
“So leave.” “Very simple.” “I didn’t say easy.” She studied him. “Do you like your job?”
Jack leaned back. “Sometimes.” “Changed your voice.” He smiled. “Fair.”
He worked for Halpern & Cole, a midsize architecture firm in Manhattan known for corporate offices, hotel renovations, and the kind of expensive residential work that appeared in glossy Sunday supplements. Jack was good at it. That was part of the problem. Competence can trap a person more efficiently than failure because everyone around you has evidence that you should keep going.
“What did you want to design?” Claire asked. “Libraries.” She blinked. “Libraries?”
“Public ones. Community centers. Places people can stay without buying anything.” “That is either very noble or very specific.”
“My father is a contractor. He thinks architecture exists to put square footage around people with financing. I spent most of college trying to prove him wrong.” Jack stirred the remains of his soup. “Then I took the first job that paid enough to prove him right.”