Monday morning, Yael strode into work with a spring in her step, still buoyant from spending nearly her entire Sunday with Haustin, and not caring about being late. Well, her lateness wasn't his fault, she'd made a side trip to Miriam's, despite all that was on her plate for the day. They were meeting with the architect, filing the final building permits for her project, and here she was an hour past her usual time. Breezing past Casey's office, she stopped dead and backtracked.

He sat slumped over at his desk and the exhaustion etched into his face startled her. Had he been there all night? His clothes were wrinkled, his beard looked unkept, and he stared blankly into space.

"Looks like you've seen better days," she said as she stepped inside.

Casey shook his head, returning from wherever he'd been. His bleary eyes surveyed her, and she began to worry.

"Casey?"

"You have chocolate on your shirt."

His words were slurred, emphasizing how tired he was, and she glanced down. Sure enough, a blotch of chocolate was splattered on her ivory blouse.

"Dammit. I don't have anything to change into either." She wiped at it with her finger. "I made Miriam a mousse this morning and took it over. It's why I'm late. Obviously, I was in too much of a hurry."

His lips quirked; the first sign of life. "Mousse? For breakfast?"

"Dorota said the same thing, but my grandmother assured her it was perfectly acceptable, declaring she has a short time left on this earth and if she wanted dessert first thing in the morning, she'd have it." She gave up scratching at the stain, knowing it was pointless. Maybe she could send an intern to her apartment, or out to find a shop that sold a Tide pen. Back in the day, she'd performed her share of asinine errands.

"Sounds like Miriam." A weak smile bloomed. "How was your weekend?"

"Great, but I have a feeling you're about to ruin it."

He sighed. "I need a distraction. Then I'll tell you. So, why was your weekend so great?"

She set her purse and satchel on the floor before taking a seat in one of the chairs facing him. Fine, she'd play along for now.

"I had a date." The residual glow of being with Haustin flushed her face, and she couldn't stop herself from beaming.

Casey blinked a couple times and leaned forward, suddenly more alert. "You're seeing someone already?"

"I guess I am." Her fingers tapped a happy tune on her thigh. "It's kind of a long story."

"We have time before our meeting with the architect. Besides, after my evening and morning, I need happy news."

His rough voice didn't sound pleased, and she hesitated. Did she really want to open up to him about such a personal experience? "Okay, but you're telling me what is going on with you after." He nodded reluctantly. "Anyway, Miriam told you I was at the Trade Center on 9/11, right?" Casey nodded again, and she paused. "I don't understand why she shared that with you so soon after she and I discussed it."

"I think she needed someone to help her digest it. You don't have to do this, Yael."

"No, it's okay. I get it. Talking is therapeutic."

With a fortifying breath, she dove into the whole story, omitting the part about being on the phone with her parents and other details that were too personal. She went for years without talking about her experience. Now, she did it regularly. It cleansed her and forced her to realize, more than ever, it was time to move on.

"And you've found the firefighter who saved your life? Without even looking? It's not too often life works out that well, or that you strike up a relationship."

"No, it doesn't." She sighed. "In rehab, they warn us to avoid romantic attachments for a while, to concentrate on staying sober, get a pet or a plant first. You know, the whole 'replacing one addiction with another, putting unattainable expectations on the other person' thing, so I'm a little apprehensive."

"Maybe, but this seems more like the work of fate than anything." His lips pursed. "Good for you. Go for it."

Yael thought she caught a trace of jealousy in his tone and, although it flattered her, she chalked it up to her imagination. Avoiding eye contact with Casey, she changed the subject. "Your turn."

He expelled a heavy breath and sank back into his chair. "There was a fire at one of our building sites in Brooklyn." She opened her mouth, stomach twisting in knots, but he held up a hand to hold her off. "It happened last night and no one was hurt. I went as soon as I heard and spent most of the night waiting. Place burned to ashes. Unofficially, fire marshal says it was arson, but I'm still waiting for confirmation."

"Oh, Casey, I'm sorry. Do they think this is tied in to the crane accident?"

"Too soon to tell." He rubbed at his eyes. "Let's do lunch tomorrow. I should know more by then."

"I suppose I can spare an hour for you." She grinned, reverting to their usual banter.

His mouth lifted. "Wouldn't want you to strain yourself."

"Eh," she shrugged, "I don't have anything better to do. You've made up for my initial assessment."

"Short of ordering a balloon bouquet, I've apologized for my behavior more than once."

"Well, I do like balloons."

Peter chose that moment to stick his head in. He frowned when he saw them laughing together. "We're ready."

He left abruptly, and Yael smirked at Casey. "I still think you must have ran over his cat."

"Welcome to my charmed life." He pushed to his feet. "Why don't you head over to the conference room. I'm going to try and pull myself together. Don't want everyone thinking I'm slipping and showing up to work looking like a schlup."

"At least you don't have chocolate on your shirt," she reminded him.

He grinned at her, and her heart skipped a beat. "What a pair we are."

Yael wanted to bang her head repeatedly against the boardroom table. For over an hour now, it'd been nothing but arguments between Casey and Peter. The two men would not give the other an inch, and the poor architect and his team appeared ready to bolt.

"There is no point in taking out this wall. We can work with what's already there," Casey said, coming very close to a snarl.

"And that's idiotic. Offering one or two larger apartments will help improve our bottom line, entice some bigger fish," Peter fired back.

"This project has never been about a bottom line. It's about preserving and appealing to a different buyer."

"Don't presume to tell me what it's about. I was with Michael when he came up with it."

"In case you haven't noticed, he's not here." Yael watched Peter's face grow red. "It's Yael's now. Remember that."

"Don't bring me into this," she muttered, flashing an apologetic look at the architect.

The arguing men ignored her.

"No, he's not here, and lucky for you he isn't. You would have been out on your ass a long time ago. Michael had an eye for worthless punks."

"This shouldn't be about how much you dislike me," Casey continued, not rising to take the bait and exhaustion thickening his words. "I'm invested in the company as much as you are."

Peter kicked the level of his voice up a notch, and the architect's team flinched. "Don't you dare assume Malkah Enterprises means as much to you as it does me. You can't come in here and order me to fall in line."

"I'm not ordering you to do anything." Casey sounded almost defeated. "And we're getting off track. Let's steer this conversation back to Yael's building."

"Why? So you can belittle my ideas some more? I refuse to take orders from a wet behind the ears asshole like you! You don't deserve to wipe the shoes of those who built this company."

Whoa, now it was getting personal. A headache flared behind her eyes, and she fought hard to maintain her composure. Someone had to. This was embarrassing.

"Peter," she began, but Casey steamrolled right over her.

"Well, Miriam likes me fine and she's the one who made this company what it is."

Peter snorted. "I'm beginning to wonder if she was in her right mind appointing you. Sickness doesn't just affect the body. Clearly, she is deteriorating mentally as well."

"That's enough!" Yael slapped her hand on the table and pushed to her feet. She tilted her head to address their guest. "Brian, I apologize. This is incredibly unprofessional. Why don't I call and reschedule this meeting, maybe later in the week when the children are done fighting in the sandbox."

She nailed Casey and Peter with a scathing glare before gathering her notebook and storming from the room. Without thinking twice, she headed straight for her father's abandoned office. Yael put her hand on the cold doorknob and turned, entering her father's domain for the first time in years.

The afternoon sun streamed in through the expansive windows, pooling in the middle of the large, vacant space, right where the desk used to sit and warming the stagnant air. The only movement was the dust motes swirling through the light.

Weary, she stepped forward and sank to the sun-washed floor, tucking her legs under her. Sitting there, in a shaft of sunlight, she appreciated why the office was kept empty, but it seemed like such a waste.

"There are better ways to remember," she whispered to the stale air.

"Somehow I knew I'd find you here."

Peter interrupted her melancholy moment, but she stayed right where she was, scowling up at him. He fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot, unable to meet her stare. Yael remained quiet, waiting for him to say why he'd sought her out.

"I may have acted a little immaturely in there," he admitted.

"A little?" She threw her hands in the air. "You and Casey are like toddlers bickering over a toy."

"I don't mean to be so confrontational with him. He gets under my skin."

"Obviously," Yael muttered.

"I knew we were being impossible, but I couldn't rein it in. Maybe it's a generational gap. I believe in a person paying their dues. He swooped in from nowhere and comes across as lazy and cocky," he explained.

"Everyone has their own approach to business. I imagine being laidback gives Casey time to gauge his surroundings. And yes, he and I picture a different outlook on the future than you would. I bet you were the same at our age, full of big ideas and swagger."

"I've been trying."

"I'm sure the poor architect would disagree." Yael didn't mention that she doubted his level of effort as well. "Besides, Casey was up all night at that fire in Brooklyn, I think he deserves a break."

He frowned. "Point taken. I'll apologize to Brian. I promise I won't let that happen again." Peter reached for her hand, not mentioning any intent of apologizing to Casey. "Come on, let me take you to lunch and you can lecture me some more."

"Be prepared for a long meal." Yael let him help her to her feet. "You two are beyond stressful and I don't need that."

Before they crossed the threshold to leave the office, Peter stopped her.

"Since we're here, I wanted to do something. I asked to be the one to give you this. I'm proud of you, Yael."

He handed her a plain white envelope with her name in the display window.

"What's this?" she asked, ripping it open. She stared slack-jawed at the paper. "Peter, you don't have to pay me. I didn't expect it."

"Nonsense. You're putting in the hours. Only fair you are compensated, and since I knew you were going to object, I gave you a decent starting wage."

She shook her head at him, mouth still open in shock. "Thank you, then. It's a nice surprise."

The check trembled in her hands as she stared at it. It was such a monumental moment. Working here before, as an intern, she'd never been paid for her work, none of the interns were. This was her first official paycheck from Malkah Enterprises Enterprises and she didn't know how to process it. She wanted to share the landmark with her mom and dad. Knowing them, they'd take her to her favorite restaurant, turn it into a special affair. Choking down tears, Yael folded the check and tucked it in her pocket.

Even with the strange contentment it gave her, it made her return to the company much more real. A lifetime of offices, tailored suits, and board meetings stretched in front of her, and she had to press a hand to her stomach to stifle the nausea welling. She didn't want that, not even a little. The resolution hit her with shocking force. She enjoyed being here, carrying on her father's work, but her passion was elsewhere, in her bakery. This wasn't what she wanted for her life, not in the slightest, and she couldn't base her life on what she thought others wanted for her. The realization took the weight from her shoulders and loosened the noose of guilt around her neck.

All Yael had to do was convince Miriam to let her go.

Sorry it's been a couple weeks since my last update. I am trying to get more into the swing of things, and things have been hard this year as the longer the virus goes on, the less I feel like doing much of anything. I'll try and be better!