34. Chapter 34
Julian
The boardroom is where I hold my power. And right now I’m in my element, meeting Robert Thompson to discuss sustainable luxury housing.
I only wish Leo were here. Not to prime him for business, but as a learning opportunity.
I actually think my nine-year-old would have quite an input on our discussion.
Right now, Thompson is describing projects we can collaborate on, but my mind is elsewhere, because my silenced phone on the table buzzes again.
Glancing at the caller I.D, I see it’s Beatrix.
If it were my wife, I’d answer. But it being Beatrix, I doubt it’s an emergency.
She likely forgot I’m at work and is asking if I can pick up odor-free cat litter.
That’s what happened last week, at least. I’ll return her call after my meeting.
“The work my company did for the Aspen project is groundbreaking, Julian,” Robert says, tapping a gold fountain pen against the meeting room’s table. “But now I’m interested in the solar aesthetic for the Malibu estates. If Plaza Investments backs the infrastructure, we can change the market.”
My phone vibrates again. I slide it closer, the screen illuminating with a text from Beatrix.
INSPECTOR ON SITE NOW.
I swallow hard. The final health inspection isn’t supposed to be until next Tuesday.
Still, I press on, trying to keep my voice from reflecting the sudden spike in my pulse.
Because Elowen’s got this, I know she does.
And again, if it were Elowen calling and texting, needing my help, I’d go in a second.
Robert continues, oblivious, “We’re looking at a three hundred percent increase”
Another buzz. Then another.
BALTHAZAR ESCAPED! INSPECTOR THREATENING TO FAIL US.
WHERE ARE YOU??
At first I think, The inspector is going to fail the sanctuary over an escaped cat.
Are they for real? But then, when the image of that skittish tomcat bolting past a clipboard-carrying inspector flashes through my mind, I imagine said skittish cat scratching someone.
And that scratch could possibly cause an infection, causing someone to go to the emergency department.
The inspector may consider Balthazar feral rather than a stray needing a second chance, which would make the certificate of occupancy dead. Elowen’s dream would be dead.
“Julian? Are you with me?” Robert asks, his brow furrowing. “I’m talking about saving you ten percent if we sign the exclusivity clause today.”
I look at Robert. This deal represents roughly thirty million in projected revenue. It is the kind of project I used to live for. But then I look at the phone, seeing a third call coming in from Beatrix.
Pro: an obscene amount of money.
Con: disappointing my wife.
Easy decision.
I stand abruptly. Obviously, it’s no comparison.
“I’m sorry, Robert. I have to go.”
He blinks, his expression shifting from professional intensity to cold irritation. “Excuse me? We are in the middle of closing the most significant partnership in sustainable luxury architecture this decade. I have the contracts.”
“It’s an emergency,” I say, already grabbing my suit jacket from the back of the chair.
Robert stands as well, his face reddening. “If you walk out of this room, the offer goes with you. I don’t reschedule, Julian. I have three other firms waiting for this call.”
I pause at the door, the weight of the professional loss hitting me, but it doesn’t compare to the thought of Elowen facing that inspector alone while her dream hangs by a thread.
“Then I lose it,” I say firmly. “My wife needs me at her cat sanctuary. She is more important than this or any other contract.”
Robert lets out a sharp, derisive scoff, shaking his head as he begins to pack his laptop. “Throwing away a career-defining collaboration for a hobby and a woman? Good luck with that, Plaza. Don’t bother calling my office.”
Asshole. I’m already out the door, moving toward the elevator with a focus that has everything to do with a button-nosed woman and a skittish cat named Balthazar.
The dashboard clock reads three-forty by the time I pull into the gravel lot.
When I burst through the sanctuary doors, chaos hits me immediately.
Volunteers scurry, carrying towels and empty carriers, their voices overlapping in urgent whispers.
The floors we installed last week are now marred by muddy footprints.
And in the center of it all stands a small man tapping his pen on his chin.
The health inspector. His expression suggests he’s already decided this place is another failed project.
“Julian!” Beatrix’s voice cuts through the commotion. She strides toward me, gray hair escaping her bun. I’ve never seen her look this frazzled. “Thank God. We’ve got a situation.”
“I gathered that from your calls and texts,” I say, already scanning the room for orange fur or angry yellow eyes. “Where’s Balthazar?”
“If we knew that I wouldn’t have called you.” I used to fire people who spoke to me in that tone, but the edge in her voice isn’t personal. Now I just nod. I mean, it was a stupid question.
“The inspection wasn’t scheduled until next week,” I say, shrugging off my suit jacket and draping it over the reception counter.
“They rescheduled this morning. Said it was today or six weeks from now. We weren’t ready, but—”
“But six weeks would mean missing our open house,” I finish for her, knowing it is not as simple as delaying the opening.
It would push operating costs into the next fiscal quarter, requiring additional bridge funding.
Elowen’s budget would collapse. She’s already poured funding into the building and would continue to make payments despite not being open.
The inspector clears his throat. “Mr…?”
“Plaza,” I supply, not offering my hand. He doesn’t strike me as someone who appreciates interruptions to his schedule. I know the type. I was the type.
“Mr. Plaza. I have another facility to inspect in thirty minutes. If all animals aren’t properly contained by then, I’m afraid this will be an automatic failure. For all I know, this feral cat is urinating and defecating all over the place.”
“Not feral,” I explain. “Balthazar is afraid and needs additional socialization, but he’s appropriate for our—I mean, my wife’s—program.
And I can assure you, all will be perfectly sanitized.
” Then, because he appears bored, I finish with, “We appreciate your patience. Everything will be in order shortly.”
I spot Leo across the room, standing near the cat habitat entrance. His small face is tense with worry, hands clutching a bag of treats. My son, worried about a shelter cat and his mother’s dream.
“Dad!” He rushes over, voice low but urgent. “Mom picked us up from day camp, and then Balthazar got scared when the inspector came in. He was out for socialization practice, and he bolted. Sarah tried to get him, but he scratched her and ran.”
I scan the room again, noting potential hiding spots. “Where have you looked?”
“E-everywhere,” Leo says, his voice catching. “He’s not in any of his usual places.”
Sarah approaches, a fresh scratch visible on her forearm. “Julian, thank God. We found him. He’s behind the storage cabinet in the supply room, hissing like crazy when anyone gets close.”
“How long has he been there?”
“About five minutes. We’ve tried luring him with treats and toys.” She lowers her voice. “The inspector’s getting impatient. If we can’t contain all animals during an inspection, he said he’ll fail us.”
“I’m aware. Does Elowen know?” I ask, rolling up my sleeves.
“Yes, she and Meredith left to get Meredith’s stuffed animal,” Sarah says.
“Meredith was sure Balthazar would come if she saw his long-lost stuffed brother, Bartholomew. Thinking we had it under control, we told Elowen to let Meredith grab him. But then Elowen messaged that traffic is terrible on their side of town, and we still haven’t gotten Balthazar to come out. ”
“Show me,” I tell Sarah, who leads me to the supply room.
As we walk, I pass volunteers I recognize from weekend shifts. They’re all hardworking people who believed in Elowen’s vision. They nod at me with a respect I haven’t earned through wealth or position, but through consistent waste scooping and assembling cat furniture.
The supply room is dark and cluttered with donation boxes and cleaning supplies. In the far corner, I spot the heavy metal storage cabinet, set slightly away from the wall. From behind it comes a low, continuous growl.
“Everyone out,” I instruct quietly. The three volunteers hovering anxiously back away. “And close the door behind you.”
Sarah hesitates. “Julian, he’s really worked up.”
“It’s fine,” I assure her. “There’s way too much going on for him. I need it quiet and calm.”
When the door closes, I’m alone with the growling, misunderstood cat. Wishing I had thought to grab my jacket to sit on, I lower myself to my haunches to avoid sitting on the floor.
“Hey, Balthazar,” I say softly. “Quite the chaos you’re making today.”
The growling continues, but I detect a slight change in pitch. A cat’s version of questioning.
“I know how you feel,” I continue, keeping my voice low and steady. “Too many strangers. Too much change all at once. You need more time to get comfortable.”
I inch forward slightly, still talking. “I left a very important meeting to come see you. Someone with a very serious face and no time for kindness. You’d have hated them; Elowen would, too.”
Another inch. The growling intensifies, then subsides slightly.
“Leo’s worried about you. You remember Leo. He’s the careful one who always brings the good treats. His mom’s dream depends on you behaving for just thirty more minutes.”
I hear the scratch of claws on concrete as Balthazar shifts position. I’m close enough now to see the reflection of his amber eyes watching my every move.