She said something—calm, even—and handed the invoice back. The driver didn't take it. He crossed his arms over his chestand said something that made Collins glance back toward the house, looking for me.
I started climbing down, but before I could reach the ground, Olivia had her phone out. She tapped the screen a few times, then held it up to her ear, her other hand still holding the clipboard like she was presenting evidence in court.
The driver watched her, his arms still crossed, his expression shifting from annoyed to uncertain.
She spoke into the phone for maybe thirty seconds. Then she lowered it and held it out to the driver. He stared at it. Then, slowly, he took the phone and held it to his ear.
I hit the ground and started walking toward them.
By the time I got there, the driver was handing the phone back to Olivia with a look that said he'd just lost an argument he didn't know he was having.
"Yeah, all right," he muttered. "I'll take it back. But you're gonna wait 'til Monday for the redelivery."
"Tuesday's fine," Olivia said in a professional tone, like she negotiated with pissed-off truck drivers every day. "As long as it's the right order this time."
The driver grunted, climbed back into the cab, and started re-strapping the load. Collins looked at me, eyebrows raised. I just shook my head.
Olivia turned and saw me standing there. She held up the clipboard.
"They sent seven-sixteenths," she said. "Not five-eighths. Wrong thickness, it won't pass inspection."
I stared at her. Then at the truck.
"How did you?—"
"Purchase order." She tapped the clipboard. "I cross-referenced it with the delivery invoice. The order numbers didn't match." She smiled. "I called the supplier. They admitted the mistake. Tuesday delivery, no charge for the reorder."
The wind pushed a strand of hair across her face. She tucked it behind her ear, waiting for me to say something. Thing is, I didn't know what to say. She'd been here less than three hours, and she'd just saved us from a failed roof inspection and having to tear off and replace hundreds of panels.
"Good catch," I said finally.
She nodded once, then walked back toward the garage, the clipboard tucked under her arm. Collins watched her go. Then he looked at me with a grin that I didn't like at all.
"Don't," I warned.
"Didn't say anything, boss."
"You were thinking it."
"Yeah," he admitted. "I was."
Chapter 21
Olivia
By five o'clock, the sun was gone and the temperature had dropped hard.
I watched from the garage as the crew packed up, their voices carrying across the clearing in the cold air. Collins said something that made Frank and Walt laugh. They climbed into their trucks, headlights cutting across the timber frame as they pulled out one by one.
Then it was quiet.
Ben was still out there. I could see him near the material pile, crouched over his toolbox, moving slower than he had all day.
I turned back to my laptop, trying to focus on the spreadsheet I'd been updating—material costs, labor hours, and all the bleeding red numbers that told me we were already behind budget. But I kept glancing up at the opening where a garage door would eventually hang.
He was still crouched there, not moving.
I frowned.
