Not the Diana from Saturday, organized and purposeful with a manila folder. This Diana was different, less assembled, coat still on, like she'd driven straight here. Something urgent in her posture that he hadn't seen from her in years. "I know I keep showing up," she said. "I know that. " "Diana. " "Grant Hollis is in Savannah," she said.
Marcus went still. "I know him," Diana said, "from the firm. He's been asking around about you, Marcus, about your work history, about your reliability, whether you finish what you start. " Her voice tightened. "He came to the hotel project as an investor. He's on the committee that approved the restoration budget. " Marcus heard every word.
He understood what it meant. The man in the dark sedan. Elena's ex. On the funding committee of the project that Elena had brought Marcus into. "That's it might be a coincidence," Marcus said, but the word felt thin as he said it.
"Is it? " Diana looked at him hard. "Because he asked me, Marcus, at that function last month. He asked me specifically whether you had a habit of walking away from things, whether you were dependable when it mattered. " She held his gaze. "I told him you were the most dependable man I'd ever known. I told him your only problem was that you were too dependable to things that didn't deserve it. " A pause.
"But I want you to know he's asking. " Marcus stood in his doorway. The evening behind Diana was dark. Hank pressed against his leg. The street was quiet. "Why is he asking about me? " Marcus said.
And even as the words came out, he heard the shape of the answer forming beneath them. The shape of a man who had seen something at a hotel site that afternoon. Two people crouched beside a cabinet, shoulders nearly touching. A woman who hadn't answered his call at dinner. "I think you know why," Diana said.
She left. Marcus closed the door. He stood in the hallway for a long moment. Then he walked to the kitchen, picked up his phone, and called Elena. She answered on the second ring.
Marcus? Grant Hollis, he said. Is he on the Alderman Project Committee? Two seconds of silence. Two seconds was enough.
Yes, she said. Her voice had gone careful. I found out 3 weeks ago, after I'd already recommended you. I was going to Elena. I was going to tell you.
When? When I understood what it meant. Whether it actually mattered. A pause. Marcus.
He has no authority over the restoration work. Patricia controls the creative contracts. Grant is an investor, not a director. He's been asking questions about me, Marcus said. About whether I finish things.
Silence. Elena. His voice was level. Controlled, but not closed. She would hear the difference.
I need to know if this project is clean. I need to know if I'm walking into something with strings attached that I can't see. You are not. She said. Her voice was steady and certain.
I promise you that. How can you promise that if he's because I will handle Grant. Her voice sharpened. He does not get to do this. Not the project.
Not you. A breath. Marcus, I know I owe you a full conversation. In person. Tomorrow.
Can you give me until tomorrow? He held the phone. He thought about the toolbox, about the gallery, about a woman who had watched his hands from across a room and made a decision. He thought about what Diana had said that morning. Don't retreat.
Don't call the walls protection when they're actually just absence. "Tomorrow morning," he said, "my porch. " "I'll be there," she said. He hung up. He sat at his kitchen table. The walnut surface under his hands was solid and old and had been through things.
He could feel it in the wood the way you always could. It had held other people's problems before his. It would hold them after. He put both hands flat on it. He breathed.
He did not retreat. He stayed exactly where he was in the house he'd made his on the street where someone had bought the house next door in 11 days and he waited for morning. She was on his porch at 7:15, not 7:30, not 8. 7:15, which told Marcus everything about how seriously she'd taken the phone call because Elena Carter was precise about time, the way she was precise about everything, and arriving 45 minutes earlier than their agreement meant she had not slept well and had decided that waiting was worse than arriving. He opened the door before she knocked.
She looked at him. He looked at her. Neither of them said anything for a moment and in that silence was the full weight of the previous night, the phone call, Diana at the door, the name Grant Hollis hanging over everything like weather that hadn't broken yet. "Come in," Marcus said. "I'd rather say this out here," she said.
"If that's okay. " He stepped out. They sat in their chairs, his chair, her chair. The arrangement that had become so natural neither of them registered it anymore. The morning was early enough to be cool. Hank came out and settled between them on the porch boards.
Elena held her coffee in both hands and looked at the street. "I found out Grant was on the committee 3 weeks ago," she said. "Patricia mentioned his name in an investor briefing. I almost pulled out of the project. " Marcus was still. "Why didn't you Because the project is real and it deserves the right people and you are the right person.
And because I decided I was not going to let Grant's presence in a room determine what I do or don't do with my professional life. That happened in our relationship. I won't let it happen after. She turned to look at him. I should have told you immediately.