"It means Cascadia will not pursue that access path as viable based on the current packet. It also means Fletcher McCrae does not have authority to present your parcel as an anticipated easement or acquisition route for us."
"That's the first smart thing I've heard all week."
Daphne's eyes flicked to mine.
Monica gave a short breath that might have been a laugh if she'd let it out. "I'll accept that as gratitude."
"It's as close as I'm getting before lunch."
"Understood." Papers shifted on Monica's end. "Daphne, you were correct to disclose the conflict and correct not to remove materials from the office. We'll discuss internal handling when you return."
"Yes," Daphne said. "Thank you."
"Mr. McCrae, I may need a written confirmation from you later today that no authorization exists."
"You can have it."
"I'll send the request through Daphne's work email and copy our project administrator so there's a formal record."
"Fine."
"Good. One more thing. If Fletcher contacts either of you about Cascadia documents, don't argue details with him. Send him to me."
I looked toward the open shed door, where sunlight cut across the dirt floor. "He won't like that."
"I don't require him to like it."
Daphne's smile came back, slow and relieved.
I looked at her. "I'm starting to understand why you work for her."
Monica said, "I'm still on the phone, Mr. McCrae."
"I know."
Daphne covered her mouth with one hand.
Monica's voice stayed dry. "Daphne, finish your community service. Then take the afternoon if you need it. I expect you tomorrow morning."
"I'll be there."
The call ended, and Daphne lowered the phone. For a second, the shed was quiet except for water ticking outside and Tyler saying something faintly about compost democracy. "That went better than I thought."
"Yes."
She looked up at me. "Are you okay?"
"No."
Her smile faded, and her attention sharpened on my face.
I stepped closer and took the phone from her before she could drop it, then set it on the workbench. "I'm not angry at you."
"I know."
"Good."
Her hands moved toward me, then stopped. We were in the shed during her hours, with the clipboard ten feet away and Birdie pretending not to watch through the pepper plants.
