Chapter 21 #3
“Finally,” Meredith said, “during a routine inspection of the Alastair model last week, we discovered that the HVAC ductwork installed by Bayside Mechanical is twenty-four-gauge galvanized steel. The architectural specifications call for twenty gauge. The difference represents a significant cost reduction in materials—cheaper, thinner ductwork billed at the higher-spec rate.”
Connor pulled up the photograph—the gauge stamp on the ductwork, clear and undeniable, next to the specification page from the architectural plans.
“In addition, we found sub-quality materials in five other places.” She tipped her head and Connor snapped five slides of electrical wires, drywall, framing, and a truss that was clearly lower grade than specified and budgeted for.
Greg Hollister turned to Vance. “What do you make of this?”
Vance’s face was now the color of old concrete. His hands were flat on the table, and Meredith watched him cycle through options—denial, deflection, outrage—and arrive at the only destination available to a man whose scheme had just been laid out in high-definition on a conference room screen.
“I don’t trust a rookie and a dental student to do the math.”
Greg gave a soft choke. “Well, the math they’ve done is based on your bids and your contractors and it adds up. Or doesn’t, depending on your point of view.”
Vance’s eyes shuttered and he gave a death stare to Meredith.
“With all due respect,” he dragged out the words so that they held not one molecule of respect, “I believe you’re in a little over your head.
All this does is confirm that we need a back-up architectural firm and I have one that would work nicely. ”
Once again, Greg scoffed. “Oh, I bet you do,” he said under his breath, then exhaled with palpable frustration.
In that moment, Meredith could taste the win.
“I’d like to review the full documentation from Acacia,” Greg added, his voice controlled but with an edge that hadn’t been there five minutes ago. “Will it take long to compile this for me?”
“It’s done.” Connor pulled a printed and bound copy from his bag—a product he had to have produced sometime between two a.m. and seven forty-five.
And in that moment, Meredith might have fallen in love.
“Right here, sir,” he said, standing to carry the professionally Velo-bound booklet to the head of the table. “All receipts, bids, payments, and whatever we could find about the vendors in question is right here.”
Greg looked up at him. “Who are you again? Her assistant?”
“My project coordinator,” Meredith replied, glancing at Connor as he returned to his seat. “A valued member of the team who first noticed the discrepancies while filing paperwork.”
Vance let out a half groan, half sigh. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
The room went dead silent as Greg opened the report, scanned the first three pages, and closed it. He looked at Vance with an expression that could have frozen the Gulf.
“I’m going to ask you to step out while we discuss this.”
It wasn’t a request.
“Look, Greg, this is some kind of a witch hunt because she doesn’t—”
“Mr. Brennan,” Greg ground out the name. “Outside.”
Seething, Vance stood. He didn’t look at Meredith. He didn’t look at anyone. He gathered his notebook—the paltry prop he’d brought to a meeting he thought he’d win—and walked out of the conference room.
“You, too,” Greg said to Andrew and William, who practically tripped over themselves to obey the order.
As they left, Greg turned to Doug, the only member of the Pippin Lake group left in the room. “Is this news to you?”
The other man lifted a shoulder. “The money discrepancies are, but my complaints about those subs have fallen on deaf ears.”
“Well, now we know why.” Greg turned his attention to Meredith. “I owe you an apology. And I owe Acacia an apology. This should have been caught on our end, and I am not pleased with the way you’ve been treated.”
She waved that off. “I’m just sorry this couldn’t have been handled in a private setting,” she said. “But we were called out.”
“You handled it perfectly,” Greg said, turning to Eli. “Guess the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Her father smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It’s meant as one,” Greg assured him as he stood, taking the packet Connor had prepared. “I’ll do a little of my own homework, but suffice it to say Mr. Brennan won’t be employed here next week.”
He came around the table and walked toward Meredith, extending his hand to her.
“You’re an asset to this project, ma’am, and I thank you for what I assume were many hours of tireless work to research this.
Without that kind of dedication, we would have continued being robbed and would have had to pay more for a firm he could control. Well done.”
“Thank you, sir.” She shook his hand, and the grip was firm and genuine and carried the weight of trust.
He put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Take care of that arm, son. Doug, come with me to talk to Vance.”
Doug gave an apologetic look to Meredith and Connor as he stood to leave. “Good job, you two. I knew something smelled but I couldn’t figure out what—or who—it was. And I did notice his treatment of you, and I should have said something. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, Doug,” Meredith said. “That means a lot.”
When they were gone, Eli stood slowly, arms out to hug her as she got up. “I’m proud of you, Mer,” he said into her hair.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He pulled back, glanced at Connor—who was up and quietly packing up his laptop.
“I guess you just got a well-deserved promotion,” he said with a laugh. “Congrats to our new project coordinator.”
He just smiled and looked at Meredith with a warm gaze that practically curled her toes. They held eye contact for a few seconds longer than what might be totally professional. Definitely long enough for Eli to cock a brow and step away.
“I’ll leave you two to pack up and…celebrate.”
He slipped out and they were completely alone.
Connor let a slow smile pull. “Does that promotion come with a pay raise?”
“Maybe. Depends on what you’re demanding.”
He took a step closer and looked down at her. “No demands, just a humble request for your company at dinner tonight with the one-armed dental student.”
She looked up at him and took his face in her hands—both hands, no hesitation, no doubt, no holding back. Just one slow, sweet kiss right on his lips.
“Yes,” she whispered. “One hundred percent yes.”