Invoices stacked in the office.
Messages waited.
Three jobs were in progress.
Caleb and Owen were tired.
Noah’s health had to come first.
The business could not remain structured around my ability to be everywhere.
“I’m hiring an operations coordinator,” I said.
Owen blinked.
“Today?”
“Tomorrow. As soon as possible.”
“For what?”
“Phones, scheduling, supplier orders, payroll preparation, visitors, paperwork.”
Caleb understood first.
“You want a gatekeeper.”
“I want someone who knows who enters the yard and why. Someone who can take pressure off the floor when I am at appointments.”
“You should have done it years ago,” Owen said.
“I know.”
Caleb looked toward the office.
“You’re not replacing Noah.”
“No.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“His station remains his.”
“Good.”
“I’m also changing visitor policy. No one enters private areas without approval. Family included.”
Owen’s mouth hardened.
“She won’t get through the gate again.”
“No.”
We ate.
I managed half a sandwich.
Then I worked hard enough to make thinking difficult.
