The pause contained business.
I waited.
“We still need four vessels inspected by the twenty-eighth,” she said. “Two need full shore-power isolation tests, and Number Seven has an intermittent navigation fault.”
“We can take them.”
“All four?”
“Yes.”
“With Noah out?”
I hated the question because it was reasonable.
“I’ll lead the work. Caleb and Owen know the fleet.”
“You usually have five people during turnaround.”
“We’ll bring in temporary help for mechanical support.”
That was a promise I had no money to keep.
Marisol remained silent.
I pictured her at the ferry authority offices, reading the notes from our last three contracts. Late reports. Rescheduled inspections. My absence while Noah was in the hospital.
“We’ve never failed your safety deadline,” I said.
“No.”
“And we won’t start now.”
Another silence.
“All right. I’ll send the schedule.”
I felt relief, but no pleasure.
“Thank you.”
“Reid?”
“Yes?”
“I’m trusting you because your work has always been good. Don’t make me explain that trust to the board.”
“I won’t.”
The line disconnected.
I sat for several seconds with the phone still in my hand.
The contract would bring enough revenue to stabilize the yard.
If we completed it.
If nothing else broke.
