Page 39 of The Fixer

One corner of his mouth hitched. “No shit?”

“No shit. I decided it was better to stay here where there’s running water.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot to be said for having water at the turn of a tap. Is it still brown?”

“No, it’s clear.”

He nodded as if this were no surprise, and the thought struck he might have had something to do with the water’s clarity.

“Before we review the bids, I want to clear the air and address Carl Weatherly’s accusation about inferior materials. I will admit—and this is for the first time ever—that we had an issue with the wrong stuff showingup on two jobs here in Fall River. One I caught in time, but the other I didn’t.”

“So this is the first time ever that you’re admitting this problem?”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant. I meant it’s the first time it’s happened.”

“What happened with the one you didn’t catch in time?” she mumbled around the flaky pastry.So good!

“Had to rip it out and put in the right stuff.” His tone implied, “Of course, duh.”

“That sounds expensive.”

“It was. For me.”

“Couldn’t you have simply offered the client a discount once you discovered the error?”

“No way. Either you do the job right or you don’t do it at all.” She detected a distinct eye-roll in his voice. “Now, if you want to see how the projects turned out, I’ll give you the addresses so you can judge for yourself. I’ve also noted those clients on my list of references.” He opened the folder and slid out a piece of paper with at least a dozen contacts on it. Wow. That was more than she’d expected. In fact, she hadn’t expected any references since she’d already hired him. The man was thorough, she had to give him that, and she liked precision.

“So tell me about Carl Weatherly. What’s his beef with you?”

“I prefer not to badmouth the guy.”

“Well, he sure badmouthedyou. Here’s your chance to even the playing field.”

He shook his head. “Not behind his back. That’s not my style. I’d rather focus on my work and let it speak for me.”

“That’s big of you. Be careful he doesn’t take you out while you’re being so magnanimous.”

“Is that how you do it in the big city? ‘Take people out’?” A spark in his eyes hinted at contempt. Apparently, she was dealing with Dudley Do-Right … crossed with a golden retriever.

She plucked a second pastry from the bag and pointed it at him. “It’s not so much a big-city thing as it is the kind of business I’m in. If playing cutthroat serves my clients’ best interests, I’m all in. And I’m very good at what I do.”

Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave her an appraising sweep. “I don’t doubt it.”

Why his comment unsettled her, she couldn’t say. His expression and tone were neutral, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was judging her behavior and finding it wanting. And though her comment about being good was more fact than brag, she wasn’t sure she disagreed with the opinion she read in his orbs. Even to her own ears, she came across as arrogant and obnoxious. Her confident, take-no-prisoners persona served her well in M&A, but here and now, it wasn’t casting her in a very positive light.

She had other skills in her arsenal, though, like softening up corporate CEOs. One approach she employed to put them at ease was to ask them questions about how they got to where they were. People who ran companies typically had healthy egos andlovedtalking about themselves. Maybe the same tactic would work on small-town contractors.

“Tell me about Past Perfect Restorations. How did you get started?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You didn’t read my bio? It’s all there.”

Busted. “I did, but I’d like to hear it from the man himself.”

He shrugged those square shoulders. “As a kid, I was always fascinated by how things fit together. My grandpa had this vision about preserving the town, so he bought and fixed up what buildings he could as a sort of hobby, though it ended up being a decent side hustle for him. Preservation became his mission, his passion, and the town benefited.” He gave her a pointed look, which she ignored. “He’d bring me along when he went to work on the places, and I helped out where I could, mostly playing gopher.” He cast his eyes to the side, and a distant mistiness shone in them. He let out a warm chuckle, as though recalling a special moment. “As I got bigger and stronger, I contributed a lot more, and I learned a ton in the process. I always believed I got the better end of that arrangement.

“There are so many nuances when it comes to the older places. Not only do you have to know what they need, but you have to travel back in time and understand how and why they were put together the way they were. That journey can be frustrating, but it’s also fascinating and gratifying when the puzzles pieces lock into place. Grandpa knew his stuff, and he was a perfectionist, a real taskmaster, so I was taught by the best.”

“Like a family apprentice program.”

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