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    Breaking New Ground
    Breaking New Ground
    Breaking New Ground
    Ebook63 pages45 minutes

    Breaking New Ground

    By J.F. Lambert

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    About this ebook

    Sara’s whole life has revolved around her family’s Italian restaurant. It’s always been expected that she will eventually go into the family business. But that’s not what Sara wants; she’s desperate to set out on her own and make something of herself outside of the shadow of her parents. Now that she’s been put in charge of overseeing the renovation of the restaurant, Sara finally has a chance to try something new and break away from her family. She meets Peter, an aspiring architect who is also working on the restaurant remodel, and they immediately hit it off. But a one-night stand only leads to confusion, and Sara’s whole plan seems to be falling apart. Peter is desperate to win Sara back, and Sara is desperate to keep her plan of striking out on her away from her family from unraveling.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBryant Street Shorts
    Release dateAug 18, 2020
    ISBN9781094413082

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      Book preview

      Breaking New Ground - J.F. Lambert

      The building wasn’t at all what Sara Campisano was expecting from an architecture office.

      She found herself in a drab, echoing lobby. When she imagined an architecture office in Manhattan, she’d thought of marble, floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek, silver elevators.

      Instead she stepped into a dirty lobby that was mostly grey. There was a leak in the wall — How does water come out of a wall? — and hanging over it was a painting of a boat that looked burned.

      Sara smiled at the security guard slouching in the corner. Not used to being acknowledged, the guard froze with a spoonful of soup stuck in his mouth.

      "Aryulosd?"

      What’s that? asked Sara.

      The man swallowed.

      Lost. Are you lost?

      Oh no, just headed up to five. Stanton & Franco.

      The guard went back to the noodles. He swirled the cup, and the aroma of roasted shrimp flavoring powder suddenly hit Sara’s nose hard as she stepped into the elevator. She crinkled her nose as politely as she could. The elevator door closed.

      Sara straightened up. She had always been told that she had great posture, and it led to a self-fulfilling feedback loop: People told her she had great posture, she straightened up, rinse and repeat. Not that she was complaining; good posture seemed to imply that she was responsible, in good shape, maybe good at yoga. People even assumed she was taller than she actually was.

      But today she was slouching. Just nerves, she told herself.

      Sara considered herself in the concave mirror stuck precariously in the elevator’s top corner. She brushed her shoulder-length brown hair off aside to get a better look. She was in an outfit that she liked, but she wasn’t sure it said woman in charge of a high-end Italian restaurant.

      You’re not in charge, she thought. Who cares if you’re looking more night out than meeting a client for the first time? Her father and uncle, co-owners of an Italian restaurant called Campisano’s, had deputized her to oversee their renovations. They were desperate for her to stay in the family business and hoped this job would give her a way to be involved that might be more appealing to her.

      It’ll be fine. The architects won’t care how you’re dressed. Architecture offices were cool, laid back, right? She imagined tattoos, weird paintings, lots of models of small buildings, of course. Everyone would be young, even the people in charge, and if they were older, they would still be dressed sharply and have European magazines on their desks. Like Mad Men but with more physical labor.

      But based on the lobby, this was probably wishful thinking. Who could blame her for hoping? As a twenty-five-year-old living at home and working for her father and uncle, any chance to get out into the world and meet people who weren’t Campisano’s customers or her family was exciting. That’s what she had dressed for.

      But Stanton & Franco Architects looked like it was in the same sketchy building that their utensil supplier was in. She’d gotten dressed up to shuffle about in the dust of another run-down building on the west side of Midtown.

      The elevator clattered open and she stepped out, unsure of herself. No one was there to meet her, but a bunch of people — architects? architect’s assistants? pencil sharpeners? What kind of jobs did people do here? — turned to face her. She froze, suddenly feeling very exposed. She was slouching worse than ever.

      You must be Sara, said someone confidently from the corner.

      Section Break

      This was Peter Turner, and though he approached Sara with the confidence of someone in charge, he was just an intern.

      It was only his first week and he was as confused as Sara was about how things worked at the office. He’d yet to

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