Page 56 of Hate Notes

"The thing is," Davenport continued, "these factories aren't just buildings to me. They're living history. Hundreds of families built their lives around them. Generations of workers passed through those doors. I may not be long for this world, but those factories could stand long after I'm gone. That matters to me."

"Of course," I said smoothly. "Which is why our renovation plans?—"

"Let me finish, young man." Davenport's eyes hardened slightly. "The problem with youth is you become so fixated on the future you forget about the past—both yours and the past of those who came before you. You charge so fast ahead you lose sight of what matters."

I felt my jaw tighten. "With all due respect?—"

"Mr. Foster," Ember cut in softly. When I looked at her, she gave a tiny shake of her head.

Something in her expression made me pause.

She was right. I needed to shut my mouth and let Davenport speak before I sabotaged another meeting with the old man.

"Please, continue,” I said, bowing my head slightly in apology.

Davenport looked surprised, then pleased. "Well. Perhaps you can learn after all." He leaned forward. "I had an interesting conversation with Cole Northman last night."

I saw Ember go very still.

Why did she always react so strangely at the mention of that man?

"He had some... creative ideas about the properties,” Davenport continued. “I was also quite impressed with his dedication to the history of my factories. He showed me an entire set of documents he has been putting together detailing everything from families who worked in those buildings to facts about the lives that were impacted by the products there."

Now Ember's face had gone white as a ghost. I slid my eyes to her, temporarily more worried about her than the implication of what Davenport was saying—that he was actually considering working with Cole Northman instead of Foster Real Estate on this.

"He showed you that?" Ember asked. Her voice was uncharacteristically meek.

"Yes, Sweetheart," Mr. Davenport said. "I've appreciated the touches of personality you bring to the project, but I must admit I was quite impressed and moved by the sheer amount of work that must have gone into his research."

Ember looked like she was trying to swallow a giant, dry ball of cotton as she nodded and forced a smile.

What the hell is going on there?

"But," Mr. Davenport said, leaning in and giving Ember's knee a friendly tap with his knuckles. "I'm here because I also liked what you said about your vision. Tell me a little more about what you think should be done with my factories?"

All my instincts screamed to jump in at that moment and take control of the conversation. Instead, I took a slow, steady breath and waited for Ember to speak. I couldn’t say if my restraint spoke to my belief in Ember, the changes she had already sparked in me, or a little bit of both.

It took her several seconds to compose herself, but she finally lifted her eyes and cleared her throat. "I think...I think they should tell a story. Yes, they need updating. Yes, they need to be profitable. But they should honor the families who worked there. Maybe we convert part of the rubber factory into a museumabout the industry's impact on the city. Maybe we create a scholarship fund for the grandchildren of former workers..."

She trailed off, noticing us both staring at her.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "I am actually still working on the official proposal with these ideas to bring to Mr. Foster and make it legitimate. I shouldn't have voiced all of that without running it by you first," she said, looking my way.

"It's alright," I said, still watching Davenport.

"Mr. Foster," he said, eying me from beneath thick gray brows. "Your employees see the heart of these buildings. The question is: do you?"

I looked at Ember, really looked at her. She was biting her lip, color high in her cheeks, brilliant ideas practically spilling out of her. And suddenly I understood what Davenport meant.

She saw people where I saw profits. Heart where I saw hardware. It was part of the change I was seeing in myself these past few days and weeks. She was rubbing off on me, and while I had a ways to go, I could finally understand her perspective.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, then leaned forward, hands clasped. "Part of being a good leader is finding the right people, Mr. Davenport. Another part is recognizing when you've got the right person for a job. So, I can't promise you I have the heart or vision Ember does for your buildings. What I can promise you is that Ember Hartwell has my full trust and confidence. If you decide to work with Foster Real Estate on this project, I would be happy to let Ember take the lead."

Ember was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher. I gave her a small nod of encouragement all the same.

Davenport smiled. "Good answer." He stood. "Well, I think I've heard enough for today. Miss Hartwell, would you mind walking an old man out? I have a few more questions about that spreadsheet of yours."

The moment they left, I collapsed into my chair, loosening my tie. Through the glass, I watched Ember lead Davenport to the elevator, animated as she showed him something else on her phone.

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