“Look, Greg, this is some kind of a witch hunt because she doesn’t?—”
“Mr. Brennan,” Greg ground out the name. “Outside.”
Seething, Vance stood. He didn’t look at Meredith. He didn’t look at anyone. He gathered his notebook—the paltry prop he’d brought to a meeting he thought he’d win—and walked out of the conference room.
“You, too,” Greg said to Andrew and William, who practically tripped over themselves to obey the order.
As they left, Greg turned to Doug, the only member of the Pippin Lake group left in the room. “Is this news to you?”
The other man lifted a shoulder. “The money discrepancies are, but my complaints about those subs have fallen on deaf ears.”
“Well, now we know why.” Greg turned his attention to Meredith. “I owe you an apology. And I owe Acacia an apology. This should have been caught on our end, and I am not pleased with the way you’ve been treated.”
She waved that off. “I’m just sorry this couldn’t have been handled in a private setting,” she said. “But we were called out.”
“You handled it perfectly,” Greg said, turning to Eli. “Guess the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Her father smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It’s meant as one,” Greg assured him as he stood, taking the packet Connor had prepared. “I’ll do a little of my own homework, but suffice it to say Mr. Brennan won’t be employed here next week.”
He came around the table and walked toward Meredith, extending his hand to her. “You’re an asset to this project, ma’am, and I thank you for what I assume were many hours of tireless work to research this. Without that kind of dedication, we would have continued being robbed and would have had to pay more for a firm he could control. Well done.”
“Thank you, sir.” She shook his hand, and the grip was firm and genuine and carried the weight of trust.
He put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Take care of that arm, son. Doug, come with me to talk to Vance.”
Doug gave an apologetic look to Meredith and Connor as he stood to leave. “Good job, you two. I knew something smelled but I couldn’t figure out what—or who—it was. And I did notice his treatment of you, and I should have said something. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, Doug,” Meredith said. “That means a lot.”
When they were gone, Eli stood slowly, arms out to hug her as she got up. “I’m proud of you, Mer,” he said into her hair.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He pulled back, glanced at Connor—who was up and quietly packing up his laptop.
“I guess you just got a well-deserved promotion,” he said with a laugh. “Congrats to our new project coordinator.”
He just smiled and looked at Meredith with a warm gaze that practically curled her toes. They held eye contact for a few seconds longer than what might be totally professional. Definitely long enough for Eli to cock a brow and step away.
“I’ll leave you two to pack up and…celebrate.”
He slipped out and they were completely alone.
Connor let a slow smile pull. “Does that promotion come with a pay raise?”
“Maybe. Depends on what you’re demanding.”
He took a step closer and looked down at her. “No demands, just a humble request for your company at dinner tonight with the one-armed dental student.”
She looked up at him and took his face in her hands—both hands, no hesitation, no doubt, no holding back. Just one slow, sweet kiss right on his lips.
“Yes,” she whispered. “One hundred percent yes.”
August 12, 1994
Dear Diary,
