Today was the day. Today, she presented the finished redesign of the DFSC web site to both Daniel Weber and John Sinclair.  Jenna dressed nervously for work, picking out her black skirt and a smooth knit dark blue sweater. This presentation was important: if Weber lost the DFSC account now, she'd lose her job for sure.
    During the drive, she kept telling herself, "It'll be fine. It'll be fine. Dan's liked the preliminaries, he's liked the unfinished finals, we've got everything together, I've double-checked every link and graphic, it's going to be fine."
    By the time she pulled into her spot in the parking lot, her nerves were a little less frazzled. By the time she reached her office, she could reasonably call herself calm. After an hour of copyediting the interns' work, she could call herself bored. "What I wouldn't give for Kristy to come barging in now," she muttered as she started another section of editing. "Yeesh! Did any of these people pass their freshman comp classes?"
    Distraction came in the form of a phone call. "Internet, Bauer speaking," she answered the call.
    "Jenna, it's Doug Gleason from photography. We have the final prints of the Cameron account, if you'd like to take a look at them."
    "I'll be right down, Doug." As she hung up the phone, she muttered a silent "Thanks."
    The trip to the photography department and the examination of the proofs took half an hour, successfully clearing Jenna's mind of trepidation about the presentation that afternoon. When she returned to her office, the presentation was the last thing on her mind.
    The day passed quietly. Only one intern had a "crisis", accidentally deleting his project. Once again, Jenna gave thanks for auto-recovery files and for interns who had more sense than that one did. By the time three p.m. rolled around, Jenna was more than ready to give the presentation and get the hell out of the building.
    Entering Weber's small conference room, she quietly set up her presentation while waiting for the men to arrive. Dan's secretary came in, placed the water set on the table and left, with only a slight nod in Jenna's direction. A few minutes later, Dan and Sinclair came into the room. "Let's see what you've got," Dan said, sitting at the table. Jenna dimmed the lights and started up the projector, projecting the main screen of the DFSC web site.
    "The main screen is a showcase," Jenna started, using her laser pointer to pick out specific details of the site. "A horizontal navigation frame at the bottom of the screen allows the user to choose specific areas of the site to visit." Jenna continued, highlighting the main features of the site, the skater profiles, the club history, the board of directors, and club membership. As she finished up, she saw looks of approval on both men's faces. She turned the lights back up and turned off the projector.
    "It looks good," Sinclair told Dan. "When can you have it up?"
    "This afternoon," Dan said, looking at Jenna, who nodded.
    "That's great." Sinclair stood up, shook Dan's hand, then Jenna's. "I've got to be running. I'll tell the board about this at the next meeting."
    As Sinclair left, Dan turned to Jenna. "You did good," he said.
    "Thanks," she replied, a sense of relief filling her.
    "Weber's sponsoring a show opening at the harbor front art gallery tonight. You'll find the information in your mailbox. We'll expect you to be there." Dan left the conference room without waiting for Jenna's reply.
    "Great," Jenna murmured. "It's not like I have a life or anything."
 

---

    That night, Jenna entered the art gallery not knowing what to expect. The "information" Dan had sent her wasn't that informative, just giving the artist's name, the dress code, and directions to the gallery, a former harbor front shipping warehouse. The dress code had been given as "almost formal," utterly confusing Jenna. She'd finally decided to wear a simple black long-sleeved knit dress and pulled her hair up into a french twist.
    Seeing the others milling about, she was glad to see she had chosen right. Kristy hijacked her as soon as she entered the main gallery. "Jenna, just a warning: some of this stuff is really weird," Kristy told Jenna, pushing a glass of white wine into her hand.
    "I knew some art majors in college. It can't be that weird." Jenna caught a glimpse of one of the sculptures. "On the other hand, I could be wrong. What is that?"
    "I'm not sure, but it's untitled. I guess we can be thankful for that."
    "Weber actually sponsored this?" Jenna shook her head. "I think I'm going to need this." She took a sip of the wine Kristy had given her. "How long are we supposed to stay?"
    "How should I know? This is the first time Weber's sponsored something like this." Kristy shrugged. "We can probably leave half an hour after they introduce the artist."
    "Thank everything that's holy." Jenna took another sip of wine. "Seen anyone interesting around?"
    "Well, Greg's been skulking around asking everyone if they'd seen you yet."
    Jenna sighed. "Great. Kristy, if you see him heading for me, intercept him. Please."
    "Speaking of, here he comes. You go hide in the cloakroom, I'll fend him off." Kristy smiled a wolfish grin, obviously none too displeased with the prospect of getting to play intercept.
    Jenna slipped around behind another of the odd statues and almost ran smack into the person standing on the other side. "Oh! I'm sorry!" she exclaimed.
    "It's no problem," he said, turning around. "Jenna?"
    "Thom?" Jenna smiled in recognition. "What are you doing here?"
    Thom shrugged. "My coach has been talking about this show for about a month. I guess he knew the artist at one time. He didn't give any details, but I figured I might as well stop in and check it out." He looked around at the gallery. "Now I wish I hadn't." He smiled at Jenna and took her free hand in his. "So why are you here?"
    "My company's sponsoring the show. I was pretty much ordered here."
    "Oh. So there's no chance you can escape and go for a walk with me?"
    "I wish." Thom pulled her closer, putting his arm around her waist. Jenna leaned against him slightly. "I have to stick around at least until they introduce the artist."
    "How long is that?"
    "Haven't a clue." Jenna checked her watch. "Maybe half an hour away?"
    Thom groaned. "Are you sure you can't slip away?"
    "Maybe. I guess if I find Dan and let him know I showed up, maybe I can get away." She sighed, setting her glass on a side table. "I'll go check in. Wait here." Jenna slipped out from behind the statue and disappeared into the growing throng of people.
    Kristy caught up to her soon after. "Jenna, Greg's still looking for you. I tried to distract him, but he got away."
    "I can avoid him. Have you seen Dan?"
    "The elusive one? No, I haven't. Why?"
    "I just want him to know I was here so I can leave."
    "What's the big hurry? The stuff isn't that bad." Kristy noticed the guilty look on Jenna's face. "You met someone here, didn't you!"
    "I already knew him," Jenna said, trying to avoid the question.
    "It's the mystery guy from last weekend, isn't it? It is! I can tell!"
    "Kristy...."
    "I know, I know, I won't butt in." Kristy grinned at Jenna. "Good luck finding Dan, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
    "That doesn't rule out much," Jenna joked. "But thanks for the sentiment." She gave Kristy a quick hug before continuing her search for her boss.
    After a good fifteen minutes of searching, Jenna finally found Dan. It didn't take long to get his okay to leave; he was less than impressed with the art show himself. Jenna slipped back through the crowd to where Thom was standing. "I can leave," she told him with relief.
    "Then let's go." He slid his arm around her waist and they left the art gallery.
    In the night air, Jenna shivered. "October's on its way," she commented.
    "Yeah, I guess so." Thom looked a little distant as they walked. "Word at the club is the new web site's up and running."
    "Yeah. We uploaded everything this afternoon."
    "So I guess I won't be seeing you around the club much anymore."
    "Probably not."
    They walked in silence for a while. Jenna remembered the last time they had been silent around each other and felt a little smile creep onto her face. "What is it?" Thom asked.
    "I was just remembering last Saturday at the coffee shop when we both quieted down," she told him.
    He stopped and pulled her to him. "I'm not going to kick you," he said, lowering his head. "I'd much rather kiss you," he whispered just as his lips touched hers.
    They stood there in what Jenna could only think of as a movie moment, the streetlight above illuminating them in a circle of light, the small waves of the lake lapping against the harbor front, a light breeze picking up. Unconsciously she shivered, the breeze unhampered by the thin knit of her dress.
    "Cold?" Thom asked, pulling her closer.
    "A bit. I wasn't planning on walking any further than from the truck to the gallery, so I didn't bring a jacket." She shivered again and slid her arms around him, under his leather jacket. "Why is it guys are always warm?" she asked wryly.
    "So we can keep our women warm?" he suggested, smiling. She shivered again, and Thom rubbed her arms. "We could go back to the gallery," he suggested.
    "No, I'd rather stay out here and freeze. If I go back in there, Kristy will swoop down like a hawk, and if she doesn't, Greg will." At Thom's look, she explained. "Kristy is my best friend at Weber, and Greg's a guy I work with."
    "Okay, so no gallery." Thom slipped off his jacket and placed it over Jenna's shoulders. "Better?"
    "Much." The jacket was still warm from him wearing it. She slid her arms inside the sleeves and he took her hand in his. They continued walking along the harbor front, chatting quietly. Jenna told him a little about her family and her job at Weber, mentioning that the DFSC account had saved her position.
    "If something had happened, if Sinclair hadn't liked the final product, I wouldn't be here now. I'd probably be packing, preparing to move back home."
    "Where's home?"
    "A small farm town in southwestern New York state. I'd have to put up with at least a month of my mother berating me for losing the job. She'd point out my brother's success and ask why I can't be more like him." Jenna sighed. "But, since Sinclair liked the design, I have a reprieve, at least until the next big project."
    "That's good. Detroit gets to keep you for a while." Thom squeezed her hand.
    "For a while."