Chương 10
“Are you calling Caroline?”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes again.
“Tell her I said good morning.”
“I absolutely will not.”
“Coward.”
I showered, dressed, and stood in the kitchen of Alexander’s apartment waiting for coffee while Manhattan turned gray beyond the windows.
His place was beautiful in the expensive, professionally designed way that had initially made me afraid to put anything down.
Eleven months later, there was a chipped mug I liked beside his Italian espresso machine, three of my books on his coffee table, and a grocery list on the refrigerator written in my handwriting.
That comforted me more than the skyline.
At six forty-three, I called Caroline.
She answered on the second ring.
“You’re up early.”
“So are you.”
“I have twins.”
“That’s fair.”
A child screamed something incomprehensible in the background.
Caroline said, “No, the blue cup is not legally yours,” then returned to me.
“Sorry.”
“I can call later.”
“No, you cannot, because you called before seven on the Friday after Thanksgiving, which means something is on fire.”
I stared into my coffee.
“Possibly my career.”
There was a pause.
Then Caroline’s voice changed.
“What happened?”
I told her.
Not everything.
I left out my mother’s chair, the apron, the crying on the sidewalk, and Logan’s investment.
I gave her the professional version.
My father’s company was bidding on a Horizon package.
Alexander and I had not known that when our relationship was disclosed.
Alexander’s counsel had raised the issue.
Caroline listened without interrupting.
That made me nervous.
When I finished, she exhaled slowly.
“All right.”
“That sounds bad.”
“It sounds complicated.”
“Complicated is architect for bad.”
“No, architect for bad is value engineering.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Caroline continued.
“You have zero role in contractor selection.”
“Correct.”
“You have no access to commercial bid data.”
“Correct.”
“And your father has never received confidential project information from you.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I know.”
I gripped the mug.
“But.”
“Yes.”
“There is still an appearance issue.”
My stomach dropped.
Caroline heard my silence.
“Emma, appearance is not guilt.”
“It can still get me removed.”
“It can.”
I closed my eyes.
She continued before I could respond.
“But nobody has made that decision.”
“Alexander thinks it’s likely.”
“Alexander is not your employer.”
“He owns the project.”
“He owns the development entity.”
“That sounds like a distinction lawyers use to justify billing by the hour.”
“It is a distinction lawyers use to keep people like you employed.”
I sat down.
“So what happens?”
“I talk to compliance.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And you stay off any discussions involving Whitmore Development until we sort it out.”
“I’ve never been in those discussions.”
“I know.”
“Caroline.”
“What?”
“Do you think I should come off Horizon?”
There was another pause.
Longer this time.
“I think you should be prepared for that possibility.”
I looked out at the river between buildings.
A ferry moved south, small and bright against the water.
“I’ve been on it since schematic design.”
“I know exactly how long you’ve been on it.”
“I built that coordination system.”
“Yes.”
“I fixed the elevator core conflict everyone said was impossible.”
“You did.”
“If I’m moved because my father submitted a bid I didn’t even know about—”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
The sharpness in my voice surprised both of us.
Caroline went quiet.
I immediately regretted it.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize yet.”
“I just snapped at you.”
“I have children.”
“That doesn’t make me less rude.”
“No, but it changes my threshold.”
A small silence passed.
Then she said, “You’re right.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I don’t know what it feels like to have your work threatened by your father’s financial decisions.”
I swallowed.
“Thank you.”
“But I do know what it looks like when talented people panic and make things worse because they’re trying to control the outcome.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You called me before seven.”
“Point taken.”
“I need you to do nothing today.”
I stared at the wall.
“That sounds terrible.”
“I know.”
“No emails?”
“No emails.”
“No documentation?”
“You may make private notes for yourself.”
“No call with compliance?”
I hated the relief that followed.
Caroline knew me too well.
“One more thing,” she said.
“What?”
“Did Richard know you were working on Horizon before he bid?”
My fingers tightened around the mug.
“I don’t know.”
“That matters.”
I sat straighter.
“He knew I was working on a hotel redevelopment in Manhattan.”
“Did you ever name the project?”
“No.”
“Did you ever mention Hayes?”
“Not in connection with work.”
“Could he have found out through public materials?”
“Possibly.”
The Grand Horizon redevelopment had been publicly announced months ago, but the full consultant team was not prominently listed.
My name appeared on Bellweather’s website.
Not on the Horizon project page.
At least, I did not think it did.
Caroline said, “Do not investigate him yourself.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You paused.”
“I was thinking.”
“That is how your investigations begin.”
“I am an architect.”
“You are nosy with spreadsheets.”
“That is an offensive reduction of my skill set.”
“It is also accurate.”
I heard one of her children demand cereal.
Caroline sighed.
“I’ll call you after I speak to legal.”
“Okay.”
“Emma.”
“Yes?”
“You did not create this conflict by getting engaged.”
The sentence sat between us.
I looked at my ring.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Good enough.”
After we hung up, I opened my laptop.
Then closed it.
Then opened it again.
Alexander walked into the kitchen in sweatpants and a T-shirt.
He looked at the laptop.
“No emails.”
I frowned.
“How do you know?”
“Caroline called me.”
“What?”
“She called my general counsel.”
“You are not your general counsel.”
“No, but he called me because apparently I employ traitors.”
“That was fast.”
“Money buys excellent betrayal.”
He poured coffee.
“What did Caroline say to you?”
“Nothing inappropriate.”
“Alexander.”
“She said Bellweather is reviewing the conflict and asked that my office communicate through legal until they finish.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
May you like
I studied him.
He raised one hand.
