Page 96 of Crossing Lines

“Well, they’re all amazing, but sometimes the classic chocolate-chip-and-walnut combination just hits right, you know?”

Nina and Mom walk arm in arm to the driveway and Zeki looks from them to me and back.

“I thought you needed help?” Zeki asks, confused.

“I thought I did too.Annewas rude, unwelcoming. But now I wonder if it was a test, to see if I really care…”

Zeki claps me on the shoulder. “Well, let’s not leave them together for too long. You wouldn’t wantanneto tell Nina all your embarrassing stories.”

Zeki laughs at whatever expression is on my face before grabbing a slice ofbörekand striding after the two most important women in my life.

Chapter 25

Nina

The sun is blinding just outside of Izmir as Evren opens the car door for me. He helps me out of the car and slides his hand into mine. The textile factory his friend Ozan owns sits before us and it looks like a small city, it’s that big.

“Ozan is someone I went to university with,” Evren says. “We’ve kept in touch over the years, and from what I know, he’s one of the best in the business. But if you don’t like him or his production facility, you just give me a sign and we’ll leave, no questions asked.”

“No questions at all?” I raise an eyebrow, and he grins before stealing a quick kiss.

“Okay, maybe a few, but I promise to only ask them after we leave.”

I chuckle and he guides us into the building. Yesterday, we spent all day with his mom, who is so clearly in love with her sons it’s adorable. Every time Evrenlaughed or smiled, she’d look at him with a mixture of surprise and pride. Like she couldn’t quite believe he’d do any of that, which makes me hurt imagining the kind of place Evren was in if laughing wasn’t considered normal.

The air is thick with the scent of machinery and raw materials as we meet a tall and thin man wearing well-worn jeans and a crisp linen shirt.

He says something in Turkish to Evren before hugging him. Evren turns to me and says, “Nina, this is my friend Ozan.”

I stick my hand out and say, “Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice.”

“Anything for Evren.” He shakes my hand and says, “I hear you’re looking for a supplier for the Sentinels’ apparel line?”

“Yes,” I say. “The previous supplier was inconsistent with their batch quality.”

“Understandable that you’d want to change suppliers.” Ozan guides us into the building and down a hallway. “We have a dedicated quality control team that inspects every roll of fabric before it leaves the factory.We use state-of-the-art equipment to test for things like colorfastness,tensile strength,and fiber content. I’d be happy to show you that toward the end of the tour if you’re interested?”

“Yes, please,” Evren says.

“We specialize in cotton, polyester, and rayon here.” Ozan gives us each a pair of earplugs and an orange vest to put over our clothes. Once that’s done, he opensanother door, and we step into the factory. Even with the earplugs, the noise is shocking. Looms clunk and hum, their rhythmic movements hypnotic. Rows of workers, their faces etched with concentration, tend to the machines. Vibrant colors fill the factory, and stacks of fabric in every hue imaginable line the walls.

“We receive bales of cotton,” Ozan says,“and then process the fibers through a series of machines that clean,spin,and weave them into the fabric you see on the shelves.”

After Ozan shows us the production process, he leads us to another building and says, “Here is where we produce polyester and rayon. For polyester, we mix chemicals together and heat them up until they become a liquid.For rayon, we start with wood pulp and treat it with special chemicals to break it down. Then, for both, we push the liquid through tiny holes, and once it cools down, we turn them into thin threads.”

After walking through endless machines and seeing the quality control lab, Ozan leads us to a conference room with samples of each of their fabrics. The quality is impressive, and I can see now how Ozan has the reputation to be the best in the business. I’m not sure if it’s possible, but sourcing from him is exactly what is needed.

“Thank you for the informative tour,” Evren says. “May we have a few minutes of privacy to discuss some topics?”

“Of course. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

Once Ozan leaves, Evren asks, “Whatdo you think?”

“I’m impressed. He clearly knows what he’s doing.”

“Why do I hear a ‘but’ in there?”

“No,” I say, “nothing like that. I’m more wondering if we should keep the same garment factory to actually cut and sew the designs, or should we switch to someone local to avoid transporting the fabric to another country.”

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