by Hayleigh Sol
“Brad, this is a big deal. This delay impacts the timeline for the entire project.”
“Come on, Maya, you know construction delays happen all the time. And so does Guy. Pushing out the delivery is going to save money in the end; he should be happy we’re helping his bottom line and making him look good to the developer.”
I couldn’t fathom telling Guy he should be happy about this; the tone of his email was antithetical to his normally jovial and joking manner. “Wait a minute. Did you say ‘pushing out’? Did you know about this?”
Big sigh. “Yes, I authorized it.”
“You what? Why did you—when did you do this?”
“My contact at the steel supplier asked if we’d be willing to postpone delivery until another drop shipment was due in this area three weeks from now. He offered a discount and I took it. It was a sound business decision, Maya.”
God, I hated it when he called something he’d done a “sound business decision” like I was a child who didn’t know anything about running a company.
“You should have talked to me about this, asked before you made the deal.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I still think the savings is going to more than make up for the delay. Want me to call Guy, smooth things over?”
Did I? I was upset Brad had done this but maybe he could spin it so Guy would see the positive. Much as I hated to admit it, men often responded better to another man. It was like taking your car into the shop; as a woman, you were treated like an imbecile who didn’t know a sparkplug from an oil filter before you’d even opened your mouth.
“Hey, it’s about lunch time. Want to come get something with me? My treat.” Brad was wearing the smile and puppy–dog eyes I’d fallen in love with, clearly remorseful for his transgression.
I still didn’t know how to handle explaining to Guy what’d happened; maybe taking a lunch break and talking it over with Brad would help. We went to a nearby burrito place with outdoor seating we’d been to a hundred times before. It almost felt like we were still a couple.
“How was your weekend? You had your grandma’s birthday thing, right?”
The fact that he’d remembered surprised me. When we’d been an us, I used to have to remind him multiple times about family gatherings, not that we went to many. Brad and I were both always so busy.
“It was good. Gram seemed to have a good time. Mom was in her element and I got to see some cousins I haven’t seen in twenty years or something. How was your weekend? Do anything fun?”
Brad pulled an uncomfortable expression. But not like he really was uncomfortable, more like he’d been waiting for me to ask so he could work his facial muscles into the proper semblance of discomfort. I’d known him for so many years, I saw behind the façade.
“Well, I don’t want to…hurt your feelings or anything…”
“Okaaay…”
“I had a date.”
Huh, interesting.
I think I was more shocked than upset. He’d been telling me just last week that he hoped we’d work things out and be together again, that he still loved me. Not only that but, technically, I was the one who’d suggested we take a break. Like most dumpees—or, breakees, I guess in this case—Brad had been quick to call the decision mutual. That was fine, I understood saving face. I still wouldn’t have thought he’d start seeing other women so soon.
“That’s great that you had a date”—maybe ‘great’ wasn’t totally true—“you don’t have to feel weird about telling me that.”
There was a strong argument for the fact that he should feel odd about telling me what he had five days ago and then going on a date with someone new. But I bit my tongue and didn’t say it.
“I’m glad you see it that way, Maya. I don’t want to add to your stress level; I still care about you.”
Hmm, last week it was ‘love’, now I’d been downgraded to ‘care’.
For a millisecond, I was tempted to tell him I was dating, too. I’d never been that person, though. There was no need to make up a lie to, what, make myself look or feel better, make him jealous? No, if Brad was moving on already, maybe he really wasn’t the one for me.
I steered the conversation to what was most important today, breaking the bad news to my customer. By the time we finished lunch, I felt ready to tackle my explanations and apologies to Guy.
He answered on the first ring. “Maya, what’d you find out?”
“Hey, Guy. I’m so sorry the recycled steel isn’t there but, I think there might be a silver lining here.” No response. “It sounds like the supplier delayed your shipment in order to bundle it with another customer’s. The good news is, they’re taking fifteen percent off the total bill.” I’d rushed to get to the positive, ending on a peppy note. If he’d been in the room, I’d probably have thrown in some flashy jazz hands. It didn’t help my nervousness that Brad was watching me in the closed–door conference room.
Guy sighed loudly over the phone. “When will the materials be here, Maya?”
I tried not to gulp. “Three weeks.”
“Three weeks? Dammit, this is gonna fuck up my entire schedule.”
“I’m sorry, Guy. Is there any other part of the project you can work on in the meantime?” I knew there wasn’t. The foundation of ferrock—a carbon–neutral alternative to concrete I’d discovered and recommended—had already been poured. Nothing else could be done before the steel framing went up.
“Not really. Damn, Maya, I can’t believe this. We’ve worked together on so many projects and you’ve always over–delivered. Is it possible Green for Green’s bitten off more than it can chew?”
Oh, God. He meant me. Was it possible I’d bitten off more than I could chew. Guy was going to fire me and he would be right in doing so. I wasn’t going to get the chance to show what Green for Green could do on larger scale, brand new commercial construction.
“Maya?”
Shit, I needed to say something, assure Guy we could do this. Brad took the phone from my limp hand. He raised his eyebrows in silent request and all I could do was nod.
“Guy, this is Brad Martinson. I’m helping Maya manage things over here at Green for Green and I’ve been apprised of the situation with your delayed materials. I hope it’s okay that I jump on this call?”
He’d been ‘apprised’? More like he was responsible.
“Good. Listen, I know not having that structural steel is gonna hold your guys up and I promise to do everything in my power to make this sting a little less. The supplier is one Green for Green hasn’t used before”—uh, yeah, because you talked me into trying someone new—“but I know Maya and the team here did their due diligence in researching them. You and I know delays in construction are just par for the course; if it hadn’t happened with this supplier, I’m sure someone else would’ve dropped the ball somewhere along the line.”
Brad paused but I couldn’t hear Guy’s side of the conversation. The slight upward tilt of Brad’s mouth looked like a good sign.
“I think Maya mentioned they’re knocking fifteen percent off the bill, but how about if Green for Green does the same?”
Holy shit, no! We couldn’t afford to reduce our fees by that amount. Already, I’d cut my own commission since this was our first venture into a project of this scope. I shook my head, eyes rounded and hands waving to signal Brad that Green for Green couldn’t take this kind of hit.
He frowned and turned away from me, making pleasantries—Guy was probably in a much better mood now—before ending the call.
“Okay, I know you didn’t want me to do that but I managed to keep his business. That’s the most important thing here.”
“I think you’re forgetting to mention that you who nearly cost us his business in the first place, Brad. How the hell are we gonna swing a fifteen percent reduction in his invoice?”
“Relax, kiddo. I’ve got this. Just let me crunch some numbers, do my thing, and everything will be fine.”
It felt like I’d just been patted on the head and told to run along. The fear of nearly losing this account was still strong and the pounding headache behind my eyes wasn’t helping. Maybe I’d just let Brad look over the financials while I worked on some easier accounts. He certainly didn’t seem as worried as I was. It was situations like this that made me wonder if making him temporary manager or even partner was the right path after all.
Chapter 4
For a Monday that had gotten off to a rocky start, I was feeling pretty good about the work I’d accomplished. Five hours had passed since lunch and my stomach was starting to protest. With the time inching toward seven, I’d have to be careful about what I ate now, hoping to trick my digestive system into playing nice. As I packed up my laptop, I spotted Brad doing the same in the conference room. Not exactly relishing the awkward walk out to the parking lot—a minor shift in our dynamic I’d noticed since we’d put our relationship on the back burner—I detoured into the kitchenette to wash out the mug I favored for the green tea I drank throughout the day.
Taking my time, I was relieved to see my strategy worked, Brad scarcely pausing to call out a goodnight as he sailed out the front door. I procrastinated a bit more by cleaning out the fridge, an annoying task that seemed to always fall to Evan or me, when the man himself scared the hell out of me by appearing in the hallway just as I turned away from my chore.
“For the love of God, Ev, make a noise or something.”
He apologized for startling me but was unsuccessful at suppressing his smile. “You headed home soon?” His backpack was over one shoulder and keys were in hand.
“Yeah, let’s blow this pop stand.”
“It’s popsicle.”
“You’re a popsicle.” Our schtick made Evan huff out a laugh, as usual. It was a small one but, after the catastrophe with our biggest account, I was glad to hear it. In an effort to give him a bigger chuckle, I told him about the last email of the day for me.
Donna was a sixty–three–year–old live wire who spent half her time gardening and the other half on social media, posting about her gardening. Several months back, we’d helped swap out some of her older outdoor lighting for its solar LED counterpart. She’d also followed Evan’s tips on creating a compost pile, which her husband had protested—futilely.
“So the poor guy’s being forced to not only separate his food scraps now”—one of Harry’s biggest complaints against the plan—“but also haul ‘em to the bin and give the compost a good turn?”
I smiled and nodded. “Sounds like it. Donna says he grumbles about the smell and the work in equal measure but she just reminds him how much they’re saving on store–bought compost every year and he goes along. Still says it’s like living on a ‘damn hippie commune’, though.”
We both had a good laugh over the couple’s playful antagonism as we reached our cars.
“How’s Josh? You two have an anniversary coming up, don’t you?”
The beaming smile that spread across Evan’s face was beautiful. “It was yesterday, actually. We went up to Santa Barbara for the weekend.” I didn’t think it possible but the corners of his mouth tipped up even farther. “I proposed…and he said yes.”
“Oh my goodness, Evan! I had no idea; I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Well, you’ve been pretty busy lately—we all have. And, I don’t know, maybe I didn’t want to jinx it.”
That was sweet, but his hasty amendment made me wonder if I really hadn’t been available for him to share his big news. “As if Josh was ever going to say anything but yes. Congrats, bud. I’m so happy for you both.” We hugged, I told him to give my congratulations to his sweetheart, and we parted ways.
Thrilled for Evan and Josh, I believed they’d be one of the couples that stood the test of time. They’d already been there for each other through the loss of Evan’s brother to a tragic overdose and through Josh’s shocking sarcoma diagnosis and chemotherapy. On the drive home, I couldn’t help but compare their relationship to mine with Brad. We’d started dating about six months before they had; I’d had the same excitement about Brad as Evan had about Josh. When Brad’s father passed, I grieved with him. Every relationship and the people in them were different, I knew, but it seemed that where Evan and Josh had only grown more solid with time, Brad and I had fragmented.
Was that my fault? Had I been so focused on building and sustaining my company that I hadn’t made my relationship and my boyfriend a priority? Brad had accused me of just that on several occasions. But he’d also told me plenty of stories about how much time he’d devoted to his own company when he’d been starting out. Maybe it had been naive of me to think he understood the pressures and responsibilities I was dealing with. Even more foolish, I guess, was my belief that he was proud to be dating a woman who worked as hard as he did.
In bed with the cold company of my phone, I went over my to–do lists, adding notes to certain items and, as usual, crossing off very few. Reading through an article on new environmental legislation up for a vote in Congress, the phone thudding painfully on my nose—for the third time—was my signal to turn off the lights. Unfortunately, as had been the case too many nights over the past several months, the drowsiness I’d experienced while reading fled and my busy brain ramped up with its worries and reminders. It was going to be another restless night.
“Where exactly is that fifteen percent coming from?” Evan maintained his calm professionalism, but the crease between his brows betrayed his concern.
Brad had called an all–staff meeting this morning, which I’d only learned about via the email he’d sent to everyone. I was annoyed that he hadn’t discussed the agenda with me, but more with the bomb he’d dropped about the hospital project. Why employees who weren’t working on that account needed to know about the shipping issue and our resulting reduced fees was beyond me. There was no reason to have the people who were working from home today—one of our own office’s green measures was having staff work remotely on a rotating schedule—present for a conversation that should really only include Brad, Evan, and me.
“I’m glad you asked, Evan. It’s a complex project but, after crunching the numbers”—I resisted rolling my eyes at Brad’s patronizing tone—“I’ve found a few places we can make cuts.” He glanced at me then, possibly sensing my frustration over his not running the plan by me first. I was willing to let it go if his financial insights would save the company’s ass on this deal.
“For starters, the landscaping, particularly around the parking structure, can be halved; it’ll provide the same benefits, just take a little longer to fill in. I’ve also identified some less expensive HVAC systems and cheaper alternatives to the air sealing and insulation materials we had planned.”
“Guy’s never going to approve those changes.” I was surprised Brad had even made the suggestion. Our proposal had included specifics, down to the model number on the heating and air conditioning units. I knew how involved Guy was as a general contractor; changes to the plans wouldn’t escape his attention.
Brad looked irritated by my objection. That was fine, I was irritated with his high–handedness. “Do you have another idea then, Maya?”
All eyes turned to me. God, I hated being on the spot like this. I should’ve looked at the numbers last night myself instead of relying on Brad’s confident assurances he’d figure out a solution.
Not having an answer wasn’t an option. As captain of the ship, uncertainty and indecisiveness signaled weakness; Green for Green couldn’t handle a mutiny of the staff right now. Unfortunately, I was lacking in solutions every bit as much as I had been yesterday when Brad had offered the discount to Guy. For better or worse, Brad didn’t allow me time to cobble together an idea or even a
bluff.
“You should know, this will probably impact your commission as well, Evan. I know that’s not what you want to hear and Maya and I certainly don’t want it to be the case, but we all have to be team players here.” Evan was just as stunned as I was. “That’s why I called you all here this morning. We need some ideas for increasing revenue and decreasing costs. I’m sure I can count on the members of this excellent team to come up with those.”
Blank faces around the room did not surprise me. Though my staff of four did fine with performing home and business evaluations, preparing reports and presenting them to clients, only Evan had ever truly shown initiative when it came to thinking outside the box. I looked at him now, hoping to convey with my eyes that we’d talk about his bonus later, that I’d figure something out. He’d put in countless hours already on the account and he’d continue to do so for the next nine months or more.
And now he’s got a wedding to pay for. It would almost certainly be Evan taking on the majority of expenses for their nuptials; Josh was an elementary school teacher, not exactly rolling in riches.
Tiffany, a twenty–something Brad had hired when he’d handled the most recent round of interviews for me five or six months back, shifted in her seat. Leaning one elbow on the arm of her chair allowed her shirt—unbuttoned too far down for the workplace, in my opinion—to gape open, displaying her cleavage and the lace edges of her bra. Reflexively, I yanked my gaze away from the sight…in time to catch Brad’s more lingering perusal.
I’d always suspected he was hot for her. No first interview for my company lasted the two hours Tiffany’s had. The smirk on her glossy lips made me think she was aware he’d been looking down her shirt just now. Although, self–satisfied was a pretty typical expression for her.
“I mentioned this before, but what about switching our solar panel supplier to Sunner–G? Wholesale prices are way less than what we’re paying with our current supplier and it’s not like we’d have to tell our clients what our profit margin is.”
