Chapter 6
ARRO
The Scottish government, working in conjunction with us, Forestry and Land Scotland, had a goal of planting twenty-five million new trees every year.
As a forest engineer, that goal kept me extremely busy.
After all, this was the twenty-first century. Timber harvesting and planting all had to be planned with renewable energy and biodiversity at the forefront of our minds.
Currently, I was working on two projects with Marcello, project manager and my partner in crime. We worked on nearly all the same projects. I was lucky to be working close to home again—harvesting trees in a forest near Lairg and replanting outside Caelmore, where Lachlan and Thane lived.
It was a big day for me at our Lairg project. As the engineer, it was my responsibility to plan the logistics of safely maneuvering timber lorries and harvesters in and out of the area. Today we’d find out if all my planning was a success.
For the last four years, my record had been solid. The only issues we’d ever come across were ones caused by weather.
I was good at my job.
Pulling up behind Marcello’s SUV, I jumped out of my Defender in my usual uniform of hiking trousers, hiking boots, T-shirt, and lightweight waterproof jacket.
My helmet and safety gear were on my passenger seat.
Thankfully, the forecast was for dry weather for the next two days.
Enough time to get started before we had to worry about working around wet, soft ground.
“There she is.” Marcello looked up from his tablet as I approached the entrance to the site. He stood with a young man I didn’t recognize.
Marcello Pernice had lived in Scotland since university. We’d worked together for years, and I considered him and his wife friends.
“Morning.” I beamed at him. “Vehicles on their way?”
“They are indeed,” he said in his wonderful jumbled Italian and Scottish accent. He indicated his companion. “Arro, this is my new project assistant, Duncan Menzie. Duncan, this is Arrochar Adair. She is our forest engineer. If I’m not around, Arro is in charge, yes.”
Duncan frowned as he gave me a rather thorough and irritating once-over. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a tone that suggested the opposite.
Warning bells rang in my head, but I took a calming breath and tried not to get ahead of myself. “You too.”
As Marcello and I, however, discussed today’s schedule, I noted Duncan aimed all his questions at Marcello.
“That is a question for Arro,” Marcello replied when Duncan asked about the construction of the road into the site and why the log storage loading area was where it was. All things I planned and decided.
Again, when he asked about the temporary bridge we’d constructed over the River Shin in order to use a nonpublic route for access and transport, he asked Marcello.
“Look,” Marcello said with a hint of impatience, “you understand everyone’s role here, so you know these are questions for Arro, okay?
” There was a warning in his tone; I was not to be undermined.
His solid, no-nonsense presence made life on site for a woman in a male-oriented industry a smoother ride.
That it took the presence of a fair-minded male to make a female’s job easier was evidence of just how far we still had to go as a society.
Duncan sullenly nodded at the slight reprimand, but his attitude tried to pierce through my nervous excitement.
After months of planning, this was the day I’d been looking forward to.
To see if all our hard work would pay off so we could harvest smoothly and safely.
It was satisfying to see the plans unfold in real time.
The thought of having to deal with a misogynistic employee barely out of college was irritating at best.
I shrugged off Duncan’s attitude and attempted not to let it get to me.
With everything going on (or not going on) in my personal life, work was my escape.
People’s lives depended on my accuracy and attention to detail.
It allowed me to funnel my entire focus into it, and everything else disappeared. Mac disappeared. For a little while.
Marcello’s phone rang. “Driver,” he said before answering. They had a brief conversation, and I garnered from Marcello’s side of it that the timber lorry driver was unsure which road to take.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Marcello said hurriedly, hanging up. “I thought we had signposted this well enough, no?” he threw over his shoulder as he marched to his SUV.
“Do you want me to go?”
“No, you stay here to direct him further. If we have more issues, we’ll need to reconsider the signage!”
I nodded and watched as he drove off.
“Hmm,” Duncan muttered under his breath, looking at the tablet Marcello had handed to him.
“What is it?” I asked, a little sharper than usual.
“Nothing. I’ll ask Marcello when he gets back.”
My hackles rose. “Is it an engineering question?”
Duncan looked me straight in the eyes. “Yes.”
A four-year Bachelor’s degree in environmental engineering.
A master’s degree in environmental and forest management.
Throughout it all, I worked as a part-time apprentice with Forestry and Land Scotland, which enabled me to secure a job as an engineer with them straight out of university.
I’d experienced zero misogynism during my apprenticeship and walked into my job a little naive.
My first job as a woman in charge of a site roaming with men was eye-opening.
They constantly deferred to the project manager, and unlike Marcello, this guy quite enjoyed undermining the hell out of me.
One day, I was depressed and at a breaking point, and Mac had taken me for a long walk along the beach.
After confessing what bothered me, he gave me a stern pep talk about standing up for myself, no matter how scared or outnumbered I felt.
He said many men weren’t (frustratingly) even aware they were being sexist and were just mimicking the behavior of those in charge.
But the manager, he said, knew exactly what he was doing.
He was a bully, and the only way to beat him was to show him I couldn’t be bullied.
Mac said, “They’ll try to label you as the angry woman when you stand up for yourself.
He’ll try to make it seem as if you’re blowing things out of proportion, but don’t let him.
Take charge, because if anything under your purview goes wrong, you’re responsible, no matter if he made the decisions.
And he’ll let you swing for his mistakes. ”
So I took Mac’s advice to heart, returned to the office, and made it clear no plans would be made unless I’d signed off on them.
The project manager pushed back, but I warned him I wouldn’t stand for it, that my arse was on the line, and if he didn’t stop undermining my decisions, I would take the issue all the way to the top—and I’d be loud about it.
He didn’t listen.
So I took it to the top.
As a company that prided themselves on diversity, they reprimanded the project manager. He was furious. But we finished the project with me in charge of my own decisions. We never worked together again.
I’d been lucky over the years to gather a solid team. Few new people came and went, and those who did were amazing. It was a great industry to work in. And I didn’t want anyone upsetting the status quo.
“Duncan.” I faced him. “Let me make this clear so there’s no confusion: I am the project engineer.
You are an assistant. I am your boss as much as Marcello is.
If you have engineering questions regarding the project, I’ll have the answer, since I implemented the plans.
So, if you have a question, ask me. If I give you a task, you do it. Simple as that. We clear?”
The little shit had the audacity to sneer, but he nodded slowly.
“I have influence over who stays on this team, so be careful,” I warned gently, and his eyes widened ever so slightly, as if he hadn’t expected me to call him on his bullshit.
It was midafternoon. We’d taken a break for lunch after Jim and his timber harvester had made swift progress.
The tricky part of the day arrived right on schedule.
We’d reached the river banks, thankfully far away from the tourist attraction that was the Wee Hoose (a tiny house on a tiny island in the middle of Loch Shin), which made felling more dangerous.
Anytime we had a sticky spot on our site or were near houses or power lines, we brought in highly skilled fellers who used chainsaws.
My feller was Kelly Wright. I’d made it my mission to make sure women who wanted to work in this industry were given that chance.
Marcello was nowhere in sight as I finished the last of my sandwich while reading an email on my phone regarding my Caelmore project.
“Hey, boss.”
I looked up to find Kelly standing in front of me. She wore a T-shirt, hiking trousers, boots, and a safety helmet. “Hey, you, how are you?”
“Good.” She grinned. “Danny proposed on Saturday.”
“Congratulations.” I hugged her.
She laughed. “Thanks, thanks. Aye, it was a surprise, but obviously, a good one.”
I studied her face. “You’re practically glowing.”
“Aye, that’s called sweat.” She nodded to the supply shed. “Got my gear ready?”
“Always.”
She jerked a chin over her shoulder. “Will we go over which trees first?”
“Yeah, yeah, just let me finish replying to this email, and I’ll be right over.”
I was typing on my phone, head down a moment later, when I heard a man shout, “Hey, hey!” I glanced up from where I stood near the loading area to see Duncan intercepting Kelly. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked loudly, belligerently. “This is a live site.”
Kelly crossed her arms over her chest, and I couldn’t hear her response as I marched toward the pair. She looked over at my approach, anger glittering in her dark eyes. “Who is this guy?”
“Who am I? Who are you, more like it?” Duncan huffed.