Chương 10
“Legally or morally?”
“Both.”
“Legally, say as little as possible while the review continues.”
“Morally?”
Maya sighed.
“That is outside the hourly rate.”
“Maya.”
“You correct false impressions when you can do so without violating privacy or compromising the investigation.”
“That sounds like lawyer morality.”
“It is.”
Daniel smiled.
Then Maya said, “There is another issue.”
He stopped.
“The competition.”
“What about it?”
“One of Vanessa’s attorneys requested judging records.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Of course.”
“They’re implying conflict of interest.”
“I did not own Northstar when Lily entered.”
“You were in acquisition negotiations.”
“I had nothing to do with the judges.”
“I know.”
“Claire didn’t buy them either, in case that becomes discoverable.”
Maya was quiet.
Daniel immediately regretted the joke.
“Sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry this is happening.”
The judges were independent volunteers from a local university, an engineering firm, and a nonprofit STEM program.
Their scoring sheets were preserved.
Lily had won by two points.
Two.
Daniel had never asked.
Now he wished the number were twenty.
Two looked vulnerable.
One judge ranked her third.
Another ranked her first.
The deciding factor was a practical field test in which Lily’s device dried a soaked glove faster than the competing designs while staying below a temperature limit.
There was no evidence of manipulation.
But innocence did not erase perception.
Daniel met with the competition organizer, a woman named Joan Keller.
She was furious.
Not at him.
At everyone.
“I have parents emailing me,” she said. “One wants the competition rerun.”
Daniel rubbed his jaw.
“Can it be?”
Joan stared at him.
“You’re asking me to rerun an event your daughter won because the internet is stupid?”
“I’m asking whether there’s a fair process.”
“The process was fair.”
“I know.”
“Then act like it.”
Daniel looked down.
Joan softened slightly.
“Lily earned her score.”
“I believe you.”
“No. You believe me because you want to believe me.”
He looked up.
She slid the scoring sheets across the desk.
“Read them.”
Daniel did.
Notes in three different handwritings.
Good concept, needs cleaner airflow seal.
Excellent presentation recovery after fan failure.
Strong practical design.
Lily’s first test had failed.
Daniel had forgotten that.
The fan cable disconnected during judging.
She had asked for thirty seconds, opened the housing, reattached it, and restarted the device.
One judge awarded extra points for troubleshooting.
Daniel swallowed.
Joan said, “Nobody bought anybody.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
He almost laughed.
“I say ‘I know’ too much.”
“Yes.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Joan leaned back.
“What are you going to do about the award?”
“What do you mean?”
“Lily hasn’t responded to our invitation.”
“What invitation?”
“The regional showcase.”
Daniel stared at her.
Joan’s face changed.
“She didn’t tell you.”
“No.”
The regional showcase was six weeks away in Denver.
Winners from several youth engineering programs could present their projects.
There was no prize money.
Just demonstrations, workshops, and a chance to meet engineers.
Daniel drove home thinking about the hidden invitation.
Lily was at the kitchen counter doing math homework.
The trophy was still in her closet.
He sat opposite her.
“Joan told me about Denver.”
Lily’s pencil stopped.
“She wasn’t supposed to.”
“Why?”
“I said no.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’d ask why.”
“I am currently doing that.”
She erased a number too hard and tore the paper.
Daniel waited.
Finally Lily said, “They’ll think you bought it.”
“Some people might.”
“So I’m not going.”
“Do you want to go?”
“No.”
“That was fast.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
She stared at the torn homework page.
Daniel got up.
At the sink, he rinsed his coffee mug.
Lily said, “I wanted to before.”
He turned.
She was crying now.
Quietly.
“I wanted to go before everybody saw.”
Daniel sat down again.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s stupid.”
“No.”
“They didn’t even show the glove dryer in the video.”
“I know.”
She looked at him angrily.
He almost smiled.
“Sorry.”
“You always say that.”
“I’m working on it.”
Lily wiped her face.
“Did I really win?”
“Yes.”
“By how much?”
Daniel hesitated.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Two points.”
She looked alarmed.
“Only two?”
“Two is still winning.”
“Who was second?”
“A boy named Caleb.”
“What if he should’ve won?”
“Do you think he should have?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I. I wasn’t a judge.”
She hated that answer.
He could see it.
But she also knew it was true.
Daniel slid the scoring sheets across the counter.
“I asked permission to show you these.”
Lily read slowly.
Her finger stopped at the note about the disconnected fan cable.
“I forgot that.”
“I did too.”
“She gave me extra points.”
“She thought fixing it mattered.”
Lily read the next sheet.
“She said my box was ugly.”
Daniel leaned over.
It said enclosure aesthetics need improvement.
“That is a sophisticated engineering way to say your box was ugly.”
Lily gave him an offended look.
“It was ugly.”
“It was a little ugly.”
“It worked.”
“Yes.”
She read all three sheets.
Then returned to the first.
“What if I go to Denver and everyone thinks I cheated?”
Daniel thought carefully.
“Then you decide whether their opinion matters more than what you want to do.”
“That sounds like something on a poster.”
“It does. Sorry.”
Lily put the papers down.
“What would you do?”
He almost said go.
Instead he thought about Vanessa’s text.
At least have the courage not to hide behind lawyers.
He thought about how badly he wanted to reply.
How much of courage, in his life, had secretly been an appetite for confrontation.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Lily rolled her eyes.
“I hate when grown-ups say that.”
“So do I.”
She considered the invitation for three days.
Meanwhile, Vanessa filed suit.
The complaint was narrower than the threat letter.
May you like
She alleged breach of her executive employment agreement and claimed Daniel had deliberately created the public impression that she was fired because of the fireplace incident when the termination had already occurred for unrelated corporate reasons.
She did not deny throwing the trophy.
