office tonight. I hope the storm didn’t take out the cell tower. Is your phone working?”
Bree went to her purse and pulled out her phone. “No bars,” she confirmed, looking at the grainy black and gray screen.
“What about data?”
She shook her head. “I have a dumb phone. Top of the line circa 2003. No games, no apps, no internet. I’m lucky it has a camera, although I wouldn’t dare take a picture with it. The quality is terrible.”
Ian looked at her as though she had sprouted a second head. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I only have this one, really, because Natalie insisted she be able to get in touch with me for work. It’s her old Motorola RAZR. I like it. It’s pink.”
“You have a flip phone with no internet. Hell, that thing doesn’t even have a keypad, does it?”
“No. But that’s okay because I don’t text.”
Ian ran his fingers through his hair. “What planet are you from? Seriously, I think you’re the only person I know under the age of
seventy
that doesn’t at least have a phone with the
ability
to get on the internet.”
Bree frowned at him, defensively slipping her maligned phone back into her purse. “It might be able to get on, but I really don’t care. I like the peace and quiet of unplugging. I like that people can’t get ahold of me every second of every day. Sometimes, I actually turn my phone off and forget to turn it back on for days!”
She watched Ian’s eyes widen in horror. “Listen,” she explained, “when I go out into the woods to take pictures, I want to hear birds chirping and water rushing over the rocks, not some cheesy symphonic ringtone of an old eighties tune.”
“If you had a cell phone from this decade, you could have ringtones made of real songs.”
She shook her head. This wasn’t the first time she’d fought this battle. As it was, Natalie made everyone in the office use laptops that detached from the keyboard as a tablet. Natalie was very plugged in, as were Gretchen and Amelia. Like most people were anymore. Bree was just resistant to the constant barrage of technology and information.
“No way. I’ve seen people and their phones these days. It’s like an addiction. They’ve constantly got to check it, even if they’re on a date or have all their friends with them. Who ignores their real friends to post stupid messages to people who are only their friends in cyberspace?
Everyone
, that’s who. I work on computers because I have to, but I prefer to unplug and get away from all that when I can.”
Ian crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in bewilderment. “Well, congratulations. You’ve stumbled into the perfect storm. I, however, feel like my right arm has been amputated. How am I supposed to get anything done without phone or internet service?”
Bree set her camera down on the coffee table and walked over to him. He was tense and twitchy; the type A personality he’d evolved into over the years paced inside of him like a caged tiger. She put her hands on his shoulders to hold him still, ignoring the heat of his body radiating through his shirt. “Relax. Turn off your laptop. It’s after nine on a weeknight. You don’t need to be working, anyway.”
She felt his muscles loosen under her fingertips. He looked around the house, seemingly at a loss. “What will I do, then?”
Bree shrugged. “Do whatever you like. Watch your big-screen television. Listen to music. Read a book. Talk to me. Play billiards downstairs. Enjoy this incredible home that you’ve obviously paid a fortune to own.” He didn’t seem convinced.
“Personally,” she said, “I was thinking about taking a luxurious bubble bath in my garden tub and reading a paperback I picked up last week.”
Ian chuckled. “Don’t tell me, you don’t have an e-reader, either!”
“No!” she said with a laugh, pulling her hands away from him. Touching him for too long was more comfortable than it should have been. When he smiled down at
Bree went to her purse and pulled out her phone. “No bars,” she confirmed, looking at the grainy black and gray screen.
“What about data?”
She shook her head. “I have a dumb phone. Top of the line circa 2003. No games, no apps, no internet. I’m lucky it has a camera, although I wouldn’t dare take a picture with it. The quality is terrible.”
Ian looked at her as though she had sprouted a second head. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I only have this one, really, because Natalie insisted she be able to get in touch with me for work. It’s her old Motorola RAZR. I like it. It’s pink.”
“You have a flip phone with no internet. Hell, that thing doesn’t even have a keypad, does it?”
“No. But that’s okay because I don’t text.”
Ian ran his fingers through his hair. “What planet are you from? Seriously, I think you’re the only person I know under the age of
seventy
that doesn’t at least have a phone with the
ability
to get on the internet.”
Bree frowned at him, defensively slipping her maligned phone back into her purse. “It might be able to get on, but I really don’t care. I like the peace and quiet of unplugging. I like that people can’t get ahold of me every second of every day. Sometimes, I actually turn my phone off and forget to turn it back on for days!”
She watched Ian’s eyes widen in horror. “Listen,” she explained, “when I go out into the woods to take pictures, I want to hear birds chirping and water rushing over the rocks, not some cheesy symphonic ringtone of an old eighties tune.”
“If you had a cell phone from this decade, you could have ringtones made of real songs.”
She shook her head. This wasn’t the first time she’d fought this battle. As it was, Natalie made everyone in the office use laptops that detached from the keyboard as a tablet. Natalie was very plugged in, as were Gretchen and Amelia. Like most people were anymore. Bree was just resistant to the constant barrage of technology and information.
“No way. I’ve seen people and their phones these days. It’s like an addiction. They’ve constantly got to check it, even if they’re on a date or have all their friends with them. Who ignores their real friends to post stupid messages to people who are only their friends in cyberspace?
Everyone
, that’s who. I work on computers because I have to, but I prefer to unplug and get away from all that when I can.”
Ian crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in bewilderment. “Well, congratulations. You’ve stumbled into the perfect storm. I, however, feel like my right arm has been amputated. How am I supposed to get anything done without phone or internet service?”
Bree set her camera down on the coffee table and walked over to him. He was tense and twitchy; the type A personality he’d evolved into over the years paced inside of him like a caged tiger. She put her hands on his shoulders to hold him still, ignoring the heat of his body radiating through his shirt. “Relax. Turn off your laptop. It’s after nine on a weeknight. You don’t need to be working, anyway.”
She felt his muscles loosen under her fingertips. He looked around the house, seemingly at a loss. “What will I do, then?”
Bree shrugged. “Do whatever you like. Watch your big-screen television. Listen to music. Read a book. Talk to me. Play billiards downstairs. Enjoy this incredible home that you’ve obviously paid a fortune to own.” He didn’t seem convinced.
“Personally,” she said, “I was thinking about taking a luxurious bubble bath in my garden tub and reading a paperback I picked up last week.”
Ian chuckled. “Don’t tell me, you don’t have an e-reader, either!”
“No!” she said with a laugh, pulling her hands away from him. Touching him for too long was more comfortable than it should have been. When he smiled down at
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