The Quinn Alternative
The Boston Conference Center bustled with architects, preservationists, and sustainability experts from across the country. Julia adjusted her name badge and looked around, trying to focus on the conference program. In a few hours, she would be presenting her warehouse adaptive reuse project to a room full of peers.
“Ready for the big reveal?” Eliza appeared beside her, balancing two coffees. She handed one to Julia.
“Thanks,” Julia said, gratefully accepting the cup. “I keep revising mental notes for the presentation.”
“You know the project inside out. You’re going to blow them away,” Eliza assured her. “I’m more worried about the headhunters.”
Eliza leaned closer to Julia amidst the conference chatter, her expression earnest. “Honestly, Julia, you’re that rare hot commodity—the smart cookie with a sustainable heart. I’ve already seen a couple of headhunter types sniffing around.”
Julia laughed, a light, confident sound. “Not a chance, Eliza. I’m perfectly happy where I am.”
Eliza grinned. “That’s what everyone says before they see the number on the signing bonus.”
Julia smiled. This was vintage Eliza. Changing the game for your benefit. Sometimes, (but only sometimes), Julia wished she could be more like Eliza, breezing into a room like a geothermal vent just sprang open – all radiant energy and a hint of something volatile simmering beneath the surface.
Just then, Eliza squeezed Julia’s arm. “Rock your presentation first, then we worry about Dylan.”
Quinn approached, tablet in hand. “In case your anxious heart is curious, the projector in your room is actually working.”
“The original mentalist,” Julia said. “Thanks, Quinn.”
“Just reading the signs, Jewels.”
If Julia had a lifetime subscription to Murphy’s law, Quinn was her exact opposite. He subscribed to Sunny’s Law. If a person so much as walked in the direction of a beach, Quinn believed, the sun would be shining, beach towel in hand. Of course the projector was working.
“Think of everyone in this room as a nail,” Quinn went on. “And you’re the hammer.”
“If I’m a hammer, you’re the loose screw!” Julia joked. She had to admit that even amidst a crowd of well-dressed professionals, Quinn commanded attention. His sharply tailored charcoal suit accentuated his broad shoulders. A pristine white shirt peeked from beneath the jacket. And there was that distinctive crooked smile that grew slowly as it spread across his face, creating subtle lines around his eyes.
“We’ll be in the front row sending supportive telepathic messages,” he said, before walking away with Eliza. “I need to focus on the presentation,” Julia said. “See you in a couple of hours.”
After they had left, Julia checked the time on her phone. She had time to walk back to her hotel and freshen up. Just then, her phone chimed. It was a message from Dylan. She willed herself not to look at it. She should not do this to herself. She put her phone in her briefcase and made her way toward the entrance.
========
The time finally came.
As she was being introduced, Julia stood at the bottom of the stairs. Quinn, Eliza and Martin were seated in the front row. Eliza did a little friendly wave, Quinn winked at her, and Martin gave her two thumbs up. Julia smiled toward them, grateful for their presence in her life. These were her people. They were part of her often reflections on seeking and finding. They were together every day, working toward something they found meaningful. These were the ones who asked, “How are you, really?” Sometimes Julia wondered what would happen to her life if they were not in it.
Right before her presentation, she thought about Dylan’s message. But she was here now. She had to focus.
“...which allowed us to preserve 78% of the original structural elements while achieving modern energy efficiency standards.” Julia advanced to her final slide, a rendering of the completed warehouse project. “The result will be a building that honors its industrial heritage while serving contemporary needs—proving that preservation and progress can coexist. I’ll take your questions now.”
Applause filled the room. During the Q&A session, she fielded questions with confidence, drawing on her intimate knowledge of the building’s history and the restoration challenges.
Afterwards, a few attendees came up to her to compliment her presentation. A small queue formed. One man stood out – sharp suit and graying temples hinting at experience. He had the air of someone not used to standing in line, unless he had a good reason to do so. Across the room, Eliza caught Julia’s eye and mouthed a dramatic, silent, “Poacher!” Julia fought to keep a professional smile on her face as the man extended his hand.
Quinn approached last, waiting until the crowd had thinned and gave her a fist bump. “You had everyone under your spell.”
“Thanks! Looks like it went well.”
“Well? You crushed it,” he insisted. “The way you connected historical significance with contemporary function—that’s the kind of thinking we need now, seriously.”
His flattery was grounding. Here was someone who understood her work, appreciated her perspective, and shared her professional values.
“By the by, are you free for dinner tonight?” Quinn asked. “A few of us were planning to try that new place in the hotel—Harvest, I think it’s called.”
