I lock my phone and start walking again. Let him try.
Chapter nine
Tom
Ifigure I'll be the first one here.
It is exactly two minutes before seven, but when I open the glass door to the conference room labelled Morgan + Bennett, Sam is already entrenched.
Her laptop is open, a slide deck fully built and glowing on the screen. A massive site plan is spread flat across the long conference table, its edges pinned down by her ceramic coffee mug and a highlighter. The margins are completely covered in her precise handwriting—blue, green, and red ink for anything she deems urgent.
She is a walking masterclass in preemptive defense.
The deck is finished. The notes are color-coded. The battlefield is fully prepared.
A second cup of coffee sits waiting on my side of the table.
I pick it up and take a sip as I set my bag down and pull out my tablet. I brace for the battle. I know how this goes. She’ll hand me the deck, assign my talking points, and tell me where to stand.
"Morning."
Sam glances up. Her expression is professional, but her jaw is tight. She looks at the laptop screen, then at a stack of printed notes.
"I drafted a structure for the presentation."
I hold back a sigh.
"Okay."
She presses her lips together, fingers drumming once against the table.
"But I think we should start with your image sequencing," she says. "We can adjust the narrative around your strongest shots. Does that work for you?"
I stop moving.
I look at the finished deck on her screen, then at her.
She built a cage.
Then left the door open.
"Yeah," I say, pulling out my chair. "That works."
We spread out in the quiet room.
I pull up the image folders, the tablet casting a bright reflection across the polished wood table, and angle the screen toward her. She leans closer, pen hovering over a fresh page in her notebook.
"Walk me through this sequence," she says, tapping the first image with the back of her pen. "Why start here?"
"Pedestrian flow." I tap the corner of the frame. "See how the sightline pulls toward the water? I wanted the approach first."
Sam writes something. I wait for her to redirect me.
She doesn’t.
"This one," I say, swiping to the next frame. "Morning light on the brick. Makes the plaza feel bigger."
She studies the screen, tilting her head slightly.
