Chapter 2 - THE LETTER IN THE WORKMAN'S POCKET
I reached for the letter.
Cal didn't stop me.
The first line made my stomach tighten.
NOTICE OF UNRESOLVED SAFETY DEFICIENCIES — MILLER'S CORNER DINER RENOVATION
Below it were photographs.
A cracked support bracket.
Water damage around a rear service entrance.
A temporary support beam.
And a handwritten notation.
DO NOT REMOVE UNTIL REPLACEMENT SUPPORT IS INSTALLED.
I looked at Cal.
“What is this?”
He glanced toward Dennis.
“Something your father's company needs to know.”
Dennis snatched at the paper.
Cal moved it out of reach.
“That's confidential.”
Dennis's voice rose.
“You had no right bringing that here.”
Cal looked at him calmly.
“I tried calling you.”
“You should have gone through the contractor.”
“I did.”
Dennis glanced around.
Several customers were watching.
His face reddened.
“Not here.”
I stared at him.
“Why not here?”
He looked at me.
“Hannah, this is a misunderstanding.”
Cal shook his head.
“No. It's a problem.”
He turned toward me.
“I'm a structural ironworker. I was hired through a subcontractor working on the diner expansion.”
I looked at his worn jacket.
The muddy boots.
The scar beneath his ear.
“Okay.”
“Two weeks ago, I found a temporary support assembly that wasn't installed according to the approved plan.”
Dennis interrupted.
“That's an exaggeration.”
Cal continued.
“I reported it to my supervisor.”
“And?” I asked.
“He told me to finish the job.”
My stomach tightened.
Cal looked toward the kitchen.
“The rear service corridor has been partially closed for renovations. The owner wants it reopened before the holiday rush.”
Dennis's expression hardened.
“We've passed inspections.”
“Not the final structural inspection,” Cal answered.
Silence.
I stared at Dennis.
“Is that true?”
He looked away.
“There's paperwork.”
Cal nodded.
“Yes. There is.”
He handed me another page.
A work order.
At the bottom was a signature.
My father's company logo appeared above it.
But the signature belonged to someone I recognized.
Grant Mercer.
My younger brother.
I felt cold.
Grant was the vice president of operations.
He handled contracts.
Scheduling.
Subcontractors.
And the construction division my father had spent forty years building.
I looked at Cal.
“Why do you have this?”
He hesitated.
“Because I was told to sign off on the work.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Dennis laughed bitterly.
“Of course not. You'd rather cause trouble.”
Cal looked at him.
“I'd rather nobody get hurt.”
Noah stared at his father.
Lucy reached across the table and took his hand.
I watched the two children.
Then looked back at the document.
Something was wrong.
May you like
And suddenly, the man in the faded jacket didn't look poor or powerless.
He looked like the only adult in the room willing to tell the truth.
