Chapter 18
Dad was useless on this Monday morning, and Meredith thought that in the most loving way possible.
He’d floated into the Lakeside office around ten, still glowing from whatever magic had happened at Wakulla Springs this past weekend. He answered a few emails with uncharacteristic brevity and left by two, claiming he could work from home this afternoon while he and Kate watched Atlas for Jonah.
“Sure, work from home,” she murmured to herself after saying goodbye to him. “If by home, you mean ‘love bubble,’ Dad. Knock yourself out, big guy.” She chuckled quietly, definitely happy for him.
“You know I can hear you,” Connor said from his desk behind her. “I say let the man live.”
“I’m letting him live. I’m just noting that his productivity has dropped approximately forty percent since Kate Wylie entered the picture.”
“Some things are worth a productivity dip.”
She didn’t respond to that because responding would require acknowledging the subtext, and the subtext was a minefield she’d been tiptoeing around since the lake walk. Every day that passed, it seemed each charged silence in this small office lasted one beat too long.
“Has he ever had a serious girlfriend before?”
Connor’s question surprised Meredith and reminded her that maybe he wasn’t thinking about how electrified this office felt when they were alone. Maybe that was all happening in her imagination.
She swiveled around to face him.
“No,” she said simply. “If he ever dated since my mom died, he kept private about it. I assume he has, and God knows every single woman over forty that walked into Acacia Architecture has shown interest, but…he was a one-woman man.”
“Maybe now he’s a two-woman man.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Are you cool with that?” he asked.
“Of course! Since my mom died fifteen years ago, he’s thrown himself into raising us and building the firm and his faith and volunteer work for his church.
” She leaned back, really thinking about what Eli Lawson must have gone through all those years alone.
“No one deserves love more,” she added on a sigh. “He’s a gem of a guy.”
“And Kate’s great.”
“She is,” Meredith agreed. “I don’t know about the whole religion thing, since I think she might look sideways at it, but we don’t talk about it.”
“Do you share that faith?” he asked.
She considered the question, one she’d asked herself many times.
“I don’t dismiss it,” she finally said. “I know it’s made him who he is, and he is amazing.
I haven’t felt the urge to go beyond some church trips with my dad, but my brother has been reading the Bible.
Maybe when I…” She almost said “have kids” but she had no way of knowing if that could ever happen.
Not after the ectopic. Yes, she allegedly could have a baby, but they didn’t know what caused the loss and she didn’t know if it would happen again.
“Maybe,” she finished, knowing it sounded lame.
Then she turned a little too quickly back to her monitors. “These plans aren’t going to revise themselves,” she murmured.
“Yeah, and I need to ask for a few hours off.”
At that, she turned once again, catching his apologetic look as he lifted his arm.
“My PT got moved to afternoon, just for this week. I’ll be back at four and can work a little longer to make up.”
“You don’t have to ask, and you don’t have to come back today,” she assured him. “Take whatever time you need.”
“No, I want to come back and I’m kind of…” He glanced at his computer. “Kind of in the middle of something. I’ll see you around four, okay?”
She gave him what she hoped was a noncommittal smile, the easy smile of a co-worker—boss, even—who hadn’t spent one single night obsessing over that walk around the lake and how he’d pushed her hair off her face and made her want to…
No, not that.
“See ya,” she called, slathering casual and I don’t care at all that you’re gone over the two syllables. “Have fun at PT.”
He threw a look over his shoulder as he walked out the door, turning his head so his hair brushed his forehead and kissed his eyebrow.
Kissed his eyebrow? Like she wanted to? Come on, Mer. Get your head in the game.
She focused on work, losing track of time, occasionally glancing out the window across the construction site to where ten Phase One foundations sat curing in the August heat.
Behind them, the first Lakeside model home—her Alastair, the design that had won Acacia this project—stood framed and roughed out, its roofline cutting that perfect eight-twelve pitch against the sky.
The development was taking shape. The sales numbers were strong. Phase Two planning was on track. Life was good. Maybe a little empty. Maybe there was a temptation in this office, but overall, she’d come a long way since—
“Meredith.”
She startled at the voice, turning to find Vance Brennan in the doorway with his clipboard and his Pippin Lake polo and a look that said he couldn’t care less that he’d interrupted her. In fact, he relished the power.
“Vance. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Door was open.” He glanced around the office, clocking Connor’s empty desk. “Where’s your boy?”
She almost cringed at the term but forced her voice to be pleasant. “Connor’s out for a bit. What can I do for you?”
“And Eli?”
What was he, their human time clock? “Vance, what do you need?”
He dropped a work order on her desk. “Got a change for the Lot 58 build. Homeowner wants to upgrade the HVAC system in the master suite—separate zone, dedicated return. I need Acacia to revise the mechanical drawing page on the blueprints.”
She picked up the work order and scanned it, landing on the contractor line.
“Bayside Mechanical again,” she said, keeping her tone neutral.
“They’re already on site. I keep things consistent.”
Connor’s warning about this subcontractor whispered in the back of her mind.
“Did we get competing bids on this?”
Something flickered behind Vance’s gray eyes—brief, controlled, gone. “We don’t need competing bids for a change order.”
Actually, they did. Especially when Bayside was behind schedule, which she intended to bring up in the next status meeting.
“Doug requires three bids on any subcontract work exceeding fifteen thousand dollars,” she said steadily. “A zoned HVAC upgrade with dedicated returns could clear that threshold.”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t.” He punctuated that with his insufferable smirk. “Why don’t you stay in your lane and stick to drawing house pictures?” he said, leaning in just a little bit. “I manage the subs. Let’s not create a paperwork headache over a routine upgrade.”
Stick to drawing house pictures? He could not be serious with that.
She set the work order down, fighting for calm she certainly didn’t feel. “I’ll revise the mechanical drawings, but I’m flagging the bid requirement for Doug. He should be looping in alternatives.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
Well, she’d rather he didn’t hover over her like a vulture.
She looked up at him, weighing all her responses, including the most obvious…why not? What was wrong with requiring a bid?
Because he didn’t want oversight or alternatives or anyone looking too closely at why Bayside Mechanical kept winning work without competition?
“I’ll handle the drawings,” she said evenly.
Vance held her gaze for a moment, then took a step backwards. “And don’t bother with bids.”
“No promises,” she said, maybe a little too flippantly based on how his eyes instantly narrowed in…well, yes, that was a warning look.
“Suit yourself,” he ground out. “But when Doug asks why we’re delaying a simple upgrade with unnecessary procurement steps, I’ll let him know whose idea it was.”
He walked out without waiting for a response.
Meredith sat very still at her desk, staring at the work order, cortisol shooting through her body so fast and furious she could practically taste it.
What was up with this guy?
She dropped her head into her hands and stared at the change order, the words blurring as a very dark and sinister thought curled through her. Could he—
“You okay?”
She shot up and looked right at Connor who was…exactly what she needed. And not for the same reasons she’d been swooning about a few hours ago.
“We need to talk,” she said. “Close the door.”
As he did, she pulled up the Phase One subcontractor log on her screen and scrolled through the HVAC entries. Bayside Mechanical. Bayside Mechanical. Bayside Mechanical. Every single Phase One house. No competing bids on record for any of them.
Connor swung his chair around the desk to sit next to her. “What’s up?”
“Look at this.” She pointed at the numbers, silently thanking God her “broken-armed dental student” could read a spreadsheet with the best of them.
He just tipped his head. “Don’t make me say ‘I told you so,’ Mer.”
“I should have listened,” she admitted. “Because either Doug has been waiving the bid requirement, or someone has been filing paperwork that makes it look like the process was followed when it wasn’t.”
He reached to his desk and grabbed a file folder from the top of an inbox. “Phase Two contractor bids,” he said. “These came in Friday. Look at the bid from Gulf Breeze Electric.”
She scanned the numbers. “Okay. What am I looking at?”
“The pricing. It’s oddly specific. They bid $347,200 for the Phase Two wiring package. That number is almost exactly the budget allocation that Pippin Lake set internally.” He flipped to another page. “Here’s the budget memo that went to Vance last month. Wiring allocation: $350,000.”
“That’s within three percent. Could be coincidence.”
“Could be. Except look at Phase One. Can you get that one on your screen?”
She turned and tapped a few keys, finding the file, a spreadsheet flashing on the screen. Together, they eyed the numbers and found the pattern—just under the allocation, close enough to look competitive but not so close it was obvious.
Meredith felt something cold settle in her stomach. “They knew the budget before they bid.”