Page 48 of Glass Spinner

The sidewalk was warm under the streetlights, the buzz of the city fainter here. The others said goodnight with casual waves, piling into a shared car. Ted walked her to the corner, hands in his pockets.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“I am too,” Marise replied, and the words carried more truth than she’d intended.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, do you want a drink? There’s a pub down the block.”

“Sure. One drink.”

They walked in companionable silence. The sidewalk was cracked in places, the streetlamps buzzing faintly overhead. The pub sat on the corner, its windows glowing amber from inside. The sign readThe Copper Tap,and a line of empty stools stretched along the bar when they entered.

They found a booth near the back. Marise ordered a cider and Ted a dark ale. The drinks arrived quickly, condensation beading on the glasses.

“This place has a nice vibe,” she said, glancing around.

“It’s where we hide when the lab tries to eat our souls,” Ted said with a grin.

She chuckled, then leaned back and let her expression soften. “You really love what you do, don’t you?”

Ted nodded, hands wrapped around his glass. “Yeah. I mean, it’s exhausting and half the time we’re flying blind. But when somethingclicks—when the data shifts and suddenly it all makes sense, there’s nothing like it.”

“I get it,” she said. “I used to help with data audits for a team doing aquatic phytoremediation. Watching a breakthrough land after months of stagnant readings—it’s addictive.”

He looked impressed. “That’s not a casual name-drop. You’ve got real background.”

Marise shrugged modestly. “Let’s say I know enough to recognize when someone’s being cagey.” She smiled over the rim of her glass. “You still haven’t told me exactly what you're working on.”

Ted hesitated, then gave a half-laugh. “Not because I don’t trust you. I mean, you’ve probably guessed it’s in the green-tech realm, but Kathleen’s strict about what we share. I signed an NDA.”

“I respect that,” she said lightly, though she could feel her curiosity prickling. “Still, you must be close to something. The way you talk about it—it sounds like you’re at the finish line.”

He nodded slowly. “We are, or rather Kathleen is. It’s her brain child, I’m only the help. The testing phase is basically over. It’s fine-tuning calibration models now.”

Marise raised an eyebrow. “So, it works.”

Ted looked down at his beer and ran a thumb along the rim of the glass. “It’s going to revolutionize things bigtime.”

She leaned in slightly, her voice gentle. “You must be proud to be part of it.”

“I am,” he said, quieter now. “Kathleen’s poured her whole life into this. Most people only see the awkwardness, but theydon’t realize how brilliant she is. She sees connections no one else does.”

Marise let a beat of silence pass. “She’s lucky to have someone like you backing her up.”

Ted smiled, a touch shyly. “I try to keep up.”

They sipped in silence for a while. Marise didn’t press. She knew better. Too much pressure now would snap the line.

Instead, she asked about his undergrad years, his thesis, the time he blew up a sink trying to measure thermal output using kitchen foil. He told the story with animation and enough self-deprecating humour to be charming.

They ordered another, and by the time they finished, the pub was thinning out. Ted glanced at his phone and winced. “It’s late. I should head off.”

“Same,” she said, standing. “Thanks for the company.”

He laughed. “Any time, Cass.”

They walked together to the subway entrance. At the top of the stairs, he paused. “I’ll see you at dinner. I’ll meet you at six-thirty at Greg’s Steakhouse.”

She smiled warmly “I’m looking forward to it.”