Natural Selection by Amanda Lance

have had to avoid him at all.
    “I—” She tapped her pen against the desk and made a rhythm with its clicks. What kind of music was Kasper listening to lately? Did he hear about the new Gidon Kremer album? No Emilia—stop it! She scolded herself and tried to refocus. “I don’t have time for dress shopping.”
    “Well , you had better make time for it.”
    “I ’ll just run to a consignment shop.”
    “No.”
    Emilia rolled her eyes at the childish protest. “Yes.”
    “Come on! The rejected prom dress shop? Shame on you, Em—you can do better than that.”
    “It isn’t that big of a deal , Claudette. I’ll probably just buy something online.”
    “Yeah , well, you better do it soon. Shipping on fine clothing items can take extra long, my dress won’t even be here for another week.”
    “Un-huh…”
    “Anyway, I got this little pink number…” Claudette continued to talk about her dress and the subsequent mask she had purchased from a costume shop, how she was going to do her hair, and so forth. It was only somewhere between shoes and an evening bag when Emilia interrupted—her ability to multitask ruined by her own anger.
    “What is this?”
    Claudette stumbled out of her own trance and glanced over. “Huh?”
    “ This pre-conformation e-mail from a print shop…” She pointed out the large number on the bottom of the screen and huffed. “Thank-you cards? That’s what we’re spending on thank-you cards?”
    Claudette’s eyes narrowed in on the screen, but she shrugged. “Is that a lot?”
    “Is that—” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Did Elaine approve this? Did Paula?”
    “I guess?”
    Emilia brought up the spreadsheets and looked over the budget again. Spending money on frivolous things would not only put them way out of budget, but decrease the potential of profit. Was that what Kasper had spent the week trying to call her about? Admittedly she thought the constant phone calls and attempted e-mails were just his way of getting her attention, but it was obvious now that it was probably relevant to the gala. She was flushed with shame for being so narcissistic.
    She picked up the phone and called hi m straight away, tapping her pen even louder as her nervousness grew. There was no way she could avoid him forever and she felt foolish for even trying. But maybe, if she kept their conversation narrowed to professional topics it would be easier to interact with him, to avoid saying all the things she really wanted to. 
    “What do you think you’re doing?” She told herself to stay focused on her frustration, to restrict herself to that emotion and none of the others that he invoked in her.
    “Cu rrently?” He rotated his wrist and stared back at the computer screen. If he had the words to describe what her voice did to him he would have been a writer. “Thinking about you, naturally.”
    Emilia closed her eyes and repeated his overspending to herself again and again. How much more difficult was he going to make this for her?
    “Hilarious.” She made herself roll her eyes only to scold herself for imagining he could see her expressions. You know what else is funny?”
    “Do tell.”
    “These thank-you cards you’ve gotten the estimate for.”
    “Your favorite colors are pink and purple , yes? What is so funny about that?”
    Emilia sighed. The dogs were barking at the roofers and between the sound of them and hammering nails, Emilia admittedly had some trouble tuning them out.
    “Why would you want to push the budget when we coul d just as easily make them ourselves?”
    “That isn’t exactly the personal touch.” She could hear his smile over the phone. “People intend to see the results of their donation.”
    Emilia rolled her eye s. “What indicates a more personal touch than us making them ourselves? What more do you want than that?”
    He sighed, his voice cooing into the phone. “We both know the only touch I want is yours.”
    “We need to talk about