Chapter 9: A Name in Print

Nathan called the project manager as soon as he finished reading the program.

“The millwork credit isn’t there,” he said.

She opened the document while they spoke. “I see the main restoration contractor.”

“Harlow & Finch is listed. Our shop isn’t.”

“I’ll ask the events team to add it.”

“Please include Mae Porter as the preservation specialist and the shop name exactly as it appears in the contract.”

“I’ll send you a revised proof.”

Nathan thanked her. He had no reason to think the omission was deliberate. Programs were assembled from several lists, and someone had used an incomplete one. Still, the first version had reached him because a person on the project thought to check. Without that, hundreds of guests would see the finished woodwork beside a list that did not name its makers.

Luis was fitting the final molding when Nathan returned to the ballroom.

“Did they fix the program?” he asked.

“They’re making a correction.”

“Good. Mae deserves to see her name there.”

“So do you,” Nathan said.

Luis adjusted the molding and stepped back. It followed the curve of the doorway cleanly. Nathan marked one spot for a final pass, then let Luis finish it.

That evening, he met Victoria at a restaurant near the river. Neither wore formal clothes. She had come directly from work; he had washed the sawdust from his hands and changed his shirt at home.

Before their food arrived, he told her about the program.

“Do you want me to speak to the events team?” she asked.

“I already did. They’re sending a proof.”

Victoria nodded. “I’m glad you caught it.”

“Two months ago, I might have thought someone left us off because of the photograph.”

“And now?”

“Someone made a mistake. I asked them to correct it. If they don’t, I’ll ask again.”

She smiled faintly. “You sound more rested than you did the last time we sat across a table.”

“I’m not. We’re close to the deadline.”

“Then what changed?”

Nathan folded his napkin once. “I stopped treating every conversation about the project as a test of whether I deserved it.”

“The committee gave you their reasons.”

“They did. I had to let that count.”

Victoria’s hand rested on the table near his. He wanted to take it. He waited until he had said the harder thing.

“I owe you an apology for making you feel that wanting to help was a flaw.”

“You were afraid I could change the outcome of your work.”

“Yes. And I was angry that you could.”

“I didn’t always handle that well either. I kept offering the thing I knew how to give.”

“You stopped when I asked.”

“Eventually.”

They ate. They spoke about Emma’s interview, Victoria’s mother, and the reopening dinner. Nathan told her his team planned to bring their families to see the ballroom.

“Will you be there?” he asked.

“I have to welcome the guests. After that, yes.”

“I’d like to see you.”

“I’d like that too.”

He reached across the table. She turned her hand beneath his.

The revised program arrived the next morning. It named Cole Woodcraft and Mae Porter, but Luis and the other craftspeople were grouped under the shop credit. Nathan sent it to the team and asked how they wanted to be acknowledged. Luis said the shop name was enough for him; Mae was pleased her role appeared accurately.

The following week brought a larger problem. During the final inspection, Denise Warren noticed that the stain on a newly installed panel beside the east doorway looked darker than its matching piece.

Nathan checked the finish against the approved sample. Luis found the cause: the new wood had absorbed more stain along one edge. With the dinner six days away, a quick coat over the surface would only make the difference more visible.

“We can remove it and refinish it at the shop,” Luis said.

“We’ll lose two days.”

“We promised a match.”

Nathan called the project manager, explained the defect, and gave her the revised installation date. She was unhappy about the schedule. Nathan showed her exactly which work remained and offered to install the other finished pieces while Luis corrected the panel.

“Will it be ready before the final walkthrough?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ll be here when you inspect it.”

They carried the panel back to the shop. Nathan and Luis stripped the finish, prepared the uneven edge, and tested a lighter coat on an offcut from the same board. Mae checked it in daylight at the ballroom before they applied it to the panel.

The match was better. They reinstalled the piece the day before the walkthrough, and Denise approved it.

On the morning of the reopening dinner, Nathan found Emma at the kitchen table polishing the shoes she planned to wear. She had placed the finished walnut box beside them.

“Are you giving it to Victoria?” he asked.

“No. It’s my school project.” Emma closed the lid. “I’m showing her I finished it.”

Nathan picked up the program from the counter. Cole Woodcraft appeared beneath the restoration credits, printed clearly enough for Emma to find it at once.

“You’re in a book,” she said.

“A very short one.”

“Still counts.”

His phone buzzed. Victoria had sent him a photograph from the ballroom: the newly finished walnut panels caught the morning light around the windows.

It looks beautiful,

she wrote.

Nathan looked at the picture, then at Emma waiting with the box in her hands. Tonight she would see what his team had built. Victoria would be there too. For the first time since the photograph had appeared, he was looking forward to entering that ballroom.