Laughter drifted from the small kitchen alcove behind the partition wall, high and sharp, followed by a deeper rumble from Julian.

I walked across the worn commercial carpet, keeping my steps quiet past the wall of framed project photos.

Clara Sterling was sitting on the edge of the laminate counter with a red stoneware mug held near her chin.

She wore a fitted beige blazer, and her right hand rested comfortably on the shoulder of Julian’s navy wool jacket.

Julian adjusted his navy blue silk necktie with his free thumb before setting his coffee cup down next to a roll of commercial blueprints.

“You left the cream carton sitting out on the counter again, Julian,” Clara said, her voice light as she touched his sleeve.