Page 14 of I Am Salvation

“Yeah. In the millions.” I sigh. “So they’re not looking to fix it.”

“Is there a chance the issue won’t end up being problematic?”

“Well, sure. There’s always a chance. And things can go wrong with buildings all the time. Even things that aren’t foreseen. But the point is that this can be fixed. Yeah, it’ll cost money. And of course one of my coworkers gave me the big spiel about how money doesn’t mean anything to me because I have a lot of it.”

Dad sighs into my ear.

I rub at my forehead. “The mountaintop project is the reason I took this job. I’d be thrilled to work on it. But I honestly never thought that these architects—some of the best in the country—would resort to such tactics.”

“You’d be surprised what people do when money is involved,” Dad says, his tone dark.

Don’t I know it. My father was put through the most horrible abuse, the greatest possible trauma someone can inflict on a child, all for money.

And I thought it was the right move to call him and whine about corporate America cutting corners after what he’s been through. There’s no comparison. He probably thinks I’m being pathetic.

I take a deep breath.

No. Of course he doesn’t think that. My father loves me. He loves all of us. And he’s proud as hell of what I’ve accomplished.

Problems don’t have to be as monumentally horrific as what he’s been through to still qualify as problems.

“But Daddy, you don’t let money get in the way of doing the right thing,” I say.

He chuckles again. “I’m guessing I probably have way more money than any of these architects. Or than the business itself. But that’s not even the point. Your uncles and I don’t cut corners for one specific reason.”

“What’s that?”

“The biggest reason is, like you said, because we do what’s right. It’s what we were taught. But number two is that when we found out our father wasn’t the esteemed pillar of society we always thought he was, and that he did questionable things in the name of money, your mother, aunts, uncles, and I decided not to run the business that way. That’s easy for us to say, of course. Our holdings are worth a small fortune.”

“I know you don’t do business like that, Dad. It’s one of the reasons I respect you so much. And the reason I wanted to call you.”

“You’re wondering what to do.”

“Yeah, I am. I feel like the right thing here would be to let the client know about the issue. But if I do that, I’ll almost surely lose my job.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Maybe not for me. I might be blacklisted among architecture firms in Denver, but I might not be. That’s not really the issue. The issue is my coworkers. One of them, Marcus, has a baby on the way. He needs his job. If I alert the client to this potential issue, they might fire the firm.”

“And you’re afraid that may cost your friend his job.”

“I don’t know if it would or not. I have no idea. I haven’t seen the financials for the company. I do know this is their biggest project, and I’m sure they’re relying on the payoff.”

“There’s really only one question you need to answer, Diana,” Dad says.

“What’s that?”

“Can you live with yourself if you don’t bring the issue up to the client?”

I don’t reply. Instead I ponder Dad’s words.

I was so excited about this job. About this project, but even if I don’t work on the mountaintop project, the vertical farming project is really cool too.

Dad speaks again.

“Diana, I don’t think you’ll be blacklisted at architecture firms in Denver if you do this.”

“You don’t?”

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