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Their Forever Home
Syndi Powell


A house isn’t a home …without someone to love Construction expert Cassie Lowman has been paired with the last designer she wanted for Detroit’s new home-reno contest. John Robison finds Cassie intriguing, yet intimidating. When tough family issues arise, John and Cassie are forced to see each other’s strengths and work together on all fronts, and yes, maybe fall for each other along the way…







A house isn’t a home

...without someone to love

Construction expert Cassie Lowman has been paired with the last designer she wanted for Detroit’s new home reno contest. John Robison finds Cassie intriguing yet intimidating. When tough family issues arise, John and Cassie are forced to see each other’s strengths and work together on all fronts, and yes, maybe fall for each other along the way...


SYNDI POWELL started writing stories when she was young and has made it a lifelong pursuit. She’s been reading Mills & Boon romance novels since she was in her teens and is thrilled to be on the Harlequin team. She loves to connect with readers on Twitter, @syndipowell (https://twitter.com/syndipowell), or on her Facebook author page, Facebook.com/syndipowellauthor (http://Facebook.com/syndipowellauthor).


Also By Syndi Powell (#u33adde75-63a0-5381-a3a5-d5eec39f393a)

Finding Her Family

Healing Hearts

Afraid to Lose Her

The Sweetheart Deal

Two-Part Harmony

Risk of Falling

The Reluctant Bachelor

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Their Forever Home

Syndi Powell






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-09749-9

THEIR FOREVER HOME

В© 2019 Cynthia Powell

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

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Note to Readers (#u33adde75-63a0-5381-a3a5-d5eec39f393a)


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Cassie turned to him, worried. “What if we don’t win? This contest means everything to me.”

John nodded. “I get that. It means a lot to me, too. But I can’t think that way about losing and neither should you. I have to focus on being the best at what I do and proving to them all that I’m just as good as they are.”

She rested her hand on his. “You are good. Better than good. You blow me away with some of your ideas. It’s been my privilege to work with you.”

He reached out and touched her cheek. “The privilege is all mine, Cass.”

She dropped her gaze from his, aware of how vulnerable she’d made herself to him. Wondering if he would accept her words, accept her. And why did it matter so much if he did?


Dear Reader (#u33adde75-63a0-5381-a3a5-d5eec39f393a),

Did something ever happen to you that changed the path you’d been following? Maybe it was a job loss or the death of a parent. Maybe it was the breakup of a relationship that you thought would never end. Whatever it was, it changed your life from one you expected to something you didn’t recognize.

If you’ve read my books before, you know that divorce and cancer were two things that changed the path I’d been traveling. They made me stop in my tracks and start asking the big questions. What followed were times of amazing personal growth and change, but it wasn’t easy to start imagining a different future.

I don’t know about you, but I love reading stories about people getting a second chance. About those who take their losses and turn their lives into something beautiful. In this story, Cassie had planned to take over her father’s construction company, and John thought he’d keep designing award-winning cars. But they are about to find out that sometimes the best plan is to embrace the unknown.

If you’re going through one of those times of losses and searching for a new path, don’t give up. Just hold on because a better day is coming.

Syndi


This book is dedicated to all the dogs I’ve loved before: Midnight, Kohlby, Furio, Phoebe, Gracie Lou, Shiloh, Cody, Rocky, Ladybird, Reno, Evie, Pinot, Bella, Katie and Ceasar. And in memory of my beloved kitty, Diva. You’ve all made my life better.

And thank you to my parents, Russ and Pattie D’Hondt, who helped inspire this new book series by helping me brainstorm ideas for the plot. Thank you also for watching home renovation shows with me for research. I love you both.


Contents

Cover (#u7efacc89-5962-52a1-b775-5ce54d47b571)

Back Cover Text (#u887d50c4-565f-52bd-b82c-5316c89acbe7)

About the Author (#u2af80d2e-31c2-5935-a6ae-6074ef9ec01e)

Booklist (#ufd86eecf-2ff2-510a-83d2-9da6b00864af)

Title Page (#u574426fd-d1e3-55eb-9c0e-f67cfda789ed)

Copyright (#ufe7d9c10-119f-5169-9b79-4be359f01083)

Note to Readers

Introduction (#ubab11b5a-abce-5fc9-bccb-d555d9b7ddec)

Dear Reader (#u3e5dbeaa-ab9e-5bad-8ec9-1eb82aa259fd)

Dedication (#u20392267-688b-5dd9-ae18-7e18f708e640)

CHAPTER ONE (#u91f177ca-e7f8-5ec2-9e5b-d0edf17b7e4f)

CHAPTER TWO (#u301537ae-0bba-5e19-8cd6-292ff098681f)

CHAPTER THREE (#uca4bc5de-7ae5-50f6-8427-0c65108c2119)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u1dcea9b1-b9c1-5dd5-9c7c-bc9a80449263)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

A Sneak Peek At Syndi Powell’s Next Novel (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE (#u33adde75-63a0-5381-a3a5-d5eec39f393a)


THE BALLROOM AT the Whittier Hotel in downtown Detroit glittered under the dozen chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling. Cassie Lowman felt a crick in her neck start to form as she stared at the opulent murals decorating the ceiling above her head. While it wasn’t her favorite aesthetic, she could appreciate the artistry. Too ornate and fussy for her—she would rather have something be beautiful in its simplicity.

A tuxedoed waiter passed by with a tray of half-filled champagne flutes. She snagged one before returning her gaze to the ceiling. She lifted her glass for a brief salute and then started to scan the room for familiar faces.

In truth, most of the faces were known to her as well as their names. These were her father’s former competitors—building contractors who had rejoiced when he’d failed and patted themselves on their backs while they swooped in and stole his clientele. She tasted the bitterness and anger at the back of her throat, so she tipped the champagne flute and drank the bubbly liquid before leaving the empty glass on a nearby table. Maybe it was better for her to look for new friends.

Speaking of friends, the Buttucci brothers, Tiny and Biggie, waved at her from the other side of the ballroom. She started to wobble in her shoes as she walked toward them. Blast her mother for insisting she wear high heels to this kickoff event. She wasn’t a heels kind of woman. Nor a fancy dress type, either, she thought, as she tugged at the neckline. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had something to flaunt, but she knew her limitations.

Biggie held a beer in his hands, and Cassie eyed it with envy. She approached the brothers, who were like family to her, especially now that she hoped to be helming the business, rather than her dad. “I’m glad you two could come. I don’t know if I could face this alone, chosen or not.”

Tiny looked behind her. “Your mother’s not here?”

“Mother decided that if she came with me that it would mean she approved of this venture.” Cassie shook her head. “And we all know where she stands on that.”

Tiny put his hand on her shoulder. “She’ll get over it in time.”

“Yesterday, her last words on the phone to me were, and I quote, �Forget the company already. It’s an anchor dragging you down.’ End quote.” Not that the company had many assets left after her father had taken most of them when he disappeared, and the rest had been sold to pay off debts. She’d had to tell employees who had been with her father for decades that they should seek employment elsewhere. Even her sister who had been the construction office’s receptionist had found a new job within weeks of his disappearance. The only two who had refused to leave her stood with her now. Cassie tugged again at the dress she’d borrowed from her older sister. “She doesn’t get it. I want to win the quarter of a million prize money so that I can start the business over and hire everyone back.”

Biggie grunted and sipped his beer while Tiny patted her shoulder again. “It will all work out. It always does.”

She wished she had his confidence. Her father’s building company seemed to be just another thing that stood between her and her mother. Growing up, Cassie had heard about how ladies didn’t come home covered in sawdust or with calloused hands. Ladies wore dresses, not plaid shirts and jeans. Her older sister, Andromeda, had filled the bill according to her mother’s requirements. Couldn’t her mother be happy that she had one perfect daughter?

But Lowman Construction meant something to Cassie, even if her mother had turned her back on it. Not only had it been her means of income, it was her lifeblood. She’d put years of her life into it at her father’s side, and she hoped to continue without him. She wanted to bring it back to what it had once been. She had to.

Cassie glanced again at Biggie’s beer. “Where can I get one of those?”

He pointed to a long wood-and-brass bar where several people milled, and she walked toward it. People murmured as she passed them, but she chose to hold her head high and ignore the comments. She paused a moment when she tottered again and the heel on one shoe threatened to bend and snap, but she slowed her gait and joined the line of those waiting for a drink.

She heard a scratchy voice talking ahead of her and recognized the gravelly tones of Bill Swenson, one of her father’s chief rivals. “I don’t understand why some people can’t let go of failure and get on with their lives. Did you see her name on the list? Does she have to waste her time and ours by entering this contest?”

A man next to him sneered. “Bill, you know why she entered. To redeem her father’s name.”

Cassie swallowed again at the bitter taste in her mouth. They could only be talking about her. She thought about leaving the line without getting her beer, but the temptation to eavesdrop was too great.

Bill laughed. “Redeem? She’d have to do a lot more than win some contest to do that. How about paying back the people he stole from? You ask me, she’s cut from the same cloth as her old man.” He spotted her. Giving her a sardonic grin, he winked. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

Tears threatened to choke her, but she wasn’t going to let anyone, especially Bill, see how the words affected her. They didn’t know anything about her. Didn’t know that she had been just as shocked by the allegations of embezzlement against her father. As heads turned to look at her, she stood straighter, refusing to ignore their stares. “You can watch me all you want as I win this thing, Bill. The Belvedere Foundation won’t accept substandard materials and shoddy work. Isn’t that why you lost the Stamper contract?”

Bill bristled and took a step toward her, but someone pulled him back and ordered him a drink. Most of the others who had listened to the conversation turned away from her and joined him. Cassie put a hand on her chest and felt her heart beating with speed. She wouldn’t run now. She had to prove to them all that she was as good as them, if not better. She could rebuild beautiful houses as well as her own life.






WITH A GLASS of whiskey in his hand, John Robison leaned on the bar and looked at the woman whose cheeks had colored at the blustering contractor’s words. He could admire someone who wouldn’t back down from a confrontation with a bully. Took a lot of guts to keep your head high when others were trying to tear you down. The woman made her way up to the front of the bar and ordered a beer. Her dark brown eyes reminded him of the color of bourbon. “You have something to say, too?”

He shook his head and looked her over. She was petite, but he sensed that there was a lot of power in that compact frame. “No, ma’am.”

“Ma’am.” She rolled her eyes. “So polite.”

“The way my mama raised me.”

She eyed him with a gleam of speculation. “I know most of the people here, but I don’t think we’ve met before.” She held out her hand. “Cassie Lowman.”

“John Robison.” He took her hand into his and felt the calluses on them. “You’re a contractor?”

She gave a short nod and accepted the tall glass of beer the bartender handed her. “Rough hands tend to give away my profession. Your smooth hands tell me you’re a designer.”

“Guilty. I usually hold pencils instead of hammers and saws. This will be my first time designing a house, though.”

“First time? And you entered a contest like this without any experience?”

“I have plenty of design experience, and I’ve won contests like this in the past. They just happened to be designs for cars.” Five awards to be exact, but who was counting? He didn’t need to have experience with houses to win this thing. His art training could be translated into many different avenues, but seeing the contest announced in the newspaper had seemed to be a sign of which one to follow.

“Designing a house that has both function and beauty is a completely different animal than a vehicle designed for speed. I’m afraid you’re in over your head here, Mr. Robison.”

“Well, the contest committee disagrees with you, or I wouldn’t have made it this far.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No offense, Mr. Robison, but I hope that we’re not paired together. I need an experienced designer. That is, if you make it into the top five.”

If? He had every intention to not only make it into the top five teams, but to win the entire contest. And he’d be more than happy to make her eat her words. “With that attitude, Ms. Lowman, the feeling is mutual. I need a contractor who has an open mind rather than one who has already decided what is right.”

She took her beer and turned away, her legs teetering on heels that added a couple of inches to her height, but she had only met him at chest level. If he wasn’t so concerned about this contest, he might follow her and strike up another conversation. See if he could find more to admire about her. But he wasn’t here to make friends. He needed to prove that he had the ideas and skills to win this thing.

A gentleman in a bow tie and suit tapped on a microphone situated on a platform at one end of the ballroom. Finally. Let’s get this party going.

“Ladies and gentlemen, members of the press, my name is Christopher Belvedere, and I’m pleased to announce the kickoff for the Belvedere Foundation’s premier Take Back the Neighborhood contest.”

The din of conversation dropped to a lull as people started to gather closer to the platform. John joined them and looked around at his competitors.

“Since 1923 when the first Thomas Belvedere opened a construction company in Detroit, the family has been devoted to improving the city that built us. We built neighborhoods–homes, schools and the St. Anne hospital. When the third Thomas Belvedere created special software, not only did it revolutionize the design of architecture, its multi-million dollar success provided the funds to create the Belvedere Foundation. Since 1971 through additional fundraising, the foundation has financed several thousand low-interest mortgages to families who might not have otherwise had the opportunity to purchase their own home.

“As you know, the foundation recently bought five abandoned houses from the city of Detroit that were set for demolition. Our goal has always been to bring back the city of Detroit, one house at a time. It is our hope that the selected contractors and designers will bring their expertise into turning these spaces into incredible homes. The winning team will win a quarter of a million dollars, a national and regional magazine spread for their winning design, and be featured in a television special on the Home Design Network. The other teams will win a smaller monetary prize and regional recognition in magazine and newspaper articles.” The gentleman stopped and glanced around the ballroom. “We had more than a hundred applicants for the ten slots. Through interviews and portfolio presentations, we winnowed the pool to the top ten contractors and top ten designers, all of whom are present this evening. After much deliberation to finalize the five teams, it is my pleasure to announce who will be competing over the next three months. Remember all work is to be completed twelve weeks from today!”

The knot in John’s belly tightened. He knew that his portfolio had been strong enough to get him into the top ten designers. He hadn’t graduated at the top of his class in art school for nothing. Unfortunately, he didn’t interview very well, and he feared that would keep him from being chosen. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. He’d put everything he had into this contest. He needed this affirmation of his abilities. Being laid off due to budget cuts and downsizing had shaken his confidence.

Shaking off his doubts, he listened as the first two teams were announced. The blustery bully made snide comments after each name, and John walked away from his group to distance himself. He didn’t need that kind of negativity to feed into his own fears. He glanced around the room and saw Cassie standing between two beefy men who looked like they could be her bodyguards. She bit her lip as the third team was announced.

He sipped his whiskey and almost choked when he heard his name. Someone boomed out, “Who in the world is that?”

John set his glass down and started to walk toward the platform, where the other teams waited. Mr. Belvedere continued, “And paired with Mr. Robison is Cassandra Lowman of Lowman Construction.”

He caught Cassie’s wide-eyed stare. So they were going to be thrown together after all. Well, it could be worse. He might have been paired with the bully.






STILL IN SHOCK at hearing her name, Cassie felt Biggie pat her on the shoulder and Tiny nudge her toward the platform. She’d done it. She’d made it into the top five contractors. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how uncertain she’d been of succeeding in this.

She closed her mouth and took careful steps toward the stage. The applause that followed after her name had been read out was softer than that for her competitors, and she knew it was because of her father, but it had stung all the same. Would there be a day when it wouldn’t hurt?

John stood on the stage and watched her as she approached the three steps. She took the first step, teetered because of the heels and then felt his hands on her elbow and waist as he helped her. She whispered her thanks and joined the other teams as the last two names were announced.

“Let’s hear it for our top five teams!” Mr. Belvedere turned with a flourish of his hands, and she heard the applause.

She tried to smile as photographers took their pictures and reporters yelled out questions. She hoped that she at least appeared composed and confident, because she felt anything but those things on the inside. What had she done? Did she really think she could pull this off? Maybe her mother was right? Maybe she should have agreed to let go, sell the company and start over in a different career. But something deep down had told her that she could do this. She clung to that hopeful ember and straightened her spine.

“Ms. Lowman, have you heard from your father? Does he know you entered the contest?”

“Do you know where your father is hiding?”

“Have you given any evidence to the police?”

The smile on her face threatened to fade, but she hung on to it. She wouldn’t let their questions take away from her moment. Because this was about her, not her father. This was about her talents and abilities. Her time to shine, not to hide in shame.

John leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Just keep smiling.”

She gave a short nod and hoped that this would be over soon. She could see the brothers clapping, Tiny beaming while Biggie wiped at his tears with a faded red bandanna.

Finally, the announcer gathered the five teams in a lopsided circle and handed them all manila envelopes. “Inside the packet, you’ll find the address of the house you’ll be working on along with the keys. Your budget is included along with a list of preapproved subcontractors.” He turned to Cassie. “I’ve already approved the Buttucci brothers’ application to work on your team.”

“Thank you. I’m pleased to know that,” she replied.

“We will have an in-depth meeting Monday morning at nine at the foundation’s office to go over everything that is required of you. In the meantime, go out and mingle. Talk to the press. Congratulations to all of you.”

Cassie glanced around, unsure of what to do now. She wasn’t interested in talking to the press since they wanted to focus on her father instead of her. She spotted Beckett looking as shocked as she felt. She took a step toward the contractor and he flinched. She’d heard the vet had returned from Afghanistan with PTSD, but she hadn’t seen evidence of it until now. He waved to her, so she approached him. “Congratulations, Beckett, on making the top five.”

He stared at her for a moment and said, “Thanks. You, too.”

“They paired you with Lauren Sterling, so you’re in good hands.”

He took a step away. “I guess.” He glanced around at the group of people waiting to talk to them. “I gotta go.” And he disappeared into the crowd.

The stage started to clear as Cassie turned to John. It probably wouldn’t hurt to address one of the elephants in the room that stood between them. “What I said earlier about not wanting to work with you...”

He held up his hand. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“But I did. Still do.” She winced and tried to use better words. This wasn’t the way to start a working relationship. “I hope that we can find a way to work with each other, because it’s going to be a long, fruitless endeavor if we can’t.”

“I don’t doubt that we can work together, Ms. Lowman. But I believe we both need to make a commitment to each other and this contest right now.” He held out his hand. “I’m going to give my very best, and I hope you will, as well.”

She shook his hand. “I never give anything less than all that I have.”

With their hands clasped, she had the feeling that this was the beginning of something...different.






JOHN HELPED CASSIE off the platform, and the members of the press surrounded them, yelling questions and pushing in from all sides. When John had met Cassie earlier, he hadn’t put her name together with the contractor who had been accused of embezzling from his own company though never proven. However, he couldn’t hold her father’s alleged crimes against her. If anything, it would bring more attention to them during the contest. Maybe they could come up with a strategy to use that to their advantage.

“Miss Lowman has no comment about her father at this time,” John said into the microphone closest to him. “But we’d be happy to discuss making the top five teams tonight.”

After a few moments of Cassie fielding inquiries about her experiences in rehabbing houses and him explaining his design credentials, the members of the press started to recede into the crowd. Clearly they weren’t going to get the story they’d hoped for. Cassie turned to him. “Thank you for that. I still don’t know what to say about my father.”

He gave a shrug, as if it didn’t matter. “This is about us, not him. And the sooner we established that with the press, the better.”

But she still looked up at him as if he was a hero. Her two big friends approached them, and the slightly smaller one picked her up by the waist and swung her around. “I knew you could do this, kid.”

She squealed and demanded that he put her down. Once on her feet, she waved her hand at them. “John, these are the Buttucci brothers Luigi and Mario. Better known as Biggie and Tiny. They are the best in the construction business I’ve ever known, and we’re lucky that they’re going to be working with us. They do everything: demolition, electrical, plumbing. But where they really shine is in painting. They don’t need tape or edges. Steady hands, that’s what they have.”

John shook their hands in turn, wincing slightly at the pressure of each clasp. They seemed to be sending him a warning about not only themselves, but Cassie, too. He could see the protective stances they had with her, sandwiching her safely between them. He gave each of them a nod, hoping they could understand that he wanted only the best for their team. “It’s great to meet you both.”

They grunted, then looked back at Cassie. Tiny wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Someone said you got the keys to the house. Wanna go see it now?”

It would be nice to get a sneak peek at the house that was going to consume all their attention for the next few months. John nodded. “I’m in.”

They each drove their respective cars to the run-down neighborhood and parked on the curb under a tall oak tree that mirrored others that lined each side of the street. John stared up at the house, which seemed to have a small porch that listed to one side. Cassie took a few moments to change out of her heels and into work boots that she had apparently kept in her truck.

John was the first to walk up the cracked pathway to the small, rickety porch. He put a hand on a wrought iron column and winced as it shifted with very little pressure. He didn’t need to have construction experience to realize what that probably meant. He turned to the trio behind him. “The porch’s foundation is possibly an issue.”

Cassie walked up the few steps and put the key in the lock, taking a deep breath before opening the door. She brought out her phone and turned on the flashlight feature. John mirrored her actions and shone his cell phone’s light on the roof above the porch. Abandoned birds’ nests, as well as cobwebs that spread their silky strands between joists, decorated the corners of the porch.

John hoped that the rest of the house would prove to be a diamond in the rough. They continued their tour. The carpet squished beneath their feet. Cassie bent down and touched the dampness. “Looks like we’ll have plumbing issues, too. A burst pipe, maybe. Or looters stole the copper pipes.” They walked into the kitchen. “And they stole the kitchen cabinets.”

He stared at the exposed pipes and noted the sink was missing, too. What had he gotten himself into? He gave a shrug. “Well, on the bright side, that’s less demolition we have to do.”

“And the more we have to replace with an already limited budget.” She brushed past him.

John stared out the window at the moonlit backyard full of weeds and overgrown grass. Another thing on their to-do list.

Cassie returned. “Four bedrooms that are in decent condition, but we’re going to have to gut the bathroom.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.”

“You’re not giving up already, are you?”

She lifted her eyes to meet his, and her spine straightened. “Something you need to know about me. I don’t ever give up. Got it?”

“Me, either.”

At a loud noise from the living room, they rushed there to find Biggie standing knee-deep in a hole, having apparently crashed through the floor. John walked over and held out his hand to help him out.

Cassie squatted and peered at the floor, where a large gaping crater now yawned. “Definitely have to replace these floors.”

John suddenly felt as if he was in way over his head.




CHAPTER TWO (#u33adde75-63a0-5381-a3a5-d5eec39f393a)


THE OFFICES FOR the Belvedere Foundation were located in a skyscraper in downtown Detroit. Cassie had to pay ten dollars to park her truck in a multistory concrete lot. She hated to hand over the money but had given up trying to find a free, open spot on a side street.

She slammed the truck door shut, then looked down at her outfit. She didn’t have to be as dressed up as she had the night before at the launch event, but she couldn’t show up in her usual T-shirt and jeans, either. After consulting with her sister, she’d chosen a plain white cotton shirt and a pair of beige pants that her mother had probably stuffed in her closet at some point. It wasn’t fancy, but she wanted to look as if she belonged.

Because despite everything that had been printed about her in the morning paper, she deserved to be there. Didn’t she?

Two security guards met her in the lobby of the glass-and-chrome skyscraper and directed her toward the Belvedere Foundation’s boardroom, where the meeting was to be held. She felt tempted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming all this. She’d really made it this far in the contest, and all that was left was to win the entire thing.

Opening the heavy door to the boardroom, she quickly scanned the crowd before she strode in with a confidence that she didn’t quite feel. Better to fake it from the beginning. Some heads turned toward her, but then the people returned to their conversations. Ignoring the dismissal, she tried to focus on the advice Andie had given her over the phone that morning. “You earned your place, Cass. Don’t let them take it from you. Instead, you show them what we Lowmans are made of. Grit and determination.”

“Grit and determination,” Cassie mumbled under her breath as she squared her shoulders and headed for a long, narrow table to the side, set with a continental breakfast. She loaded her plate with fresh fruit and a cinnamon roll rivaling the size of her head, before she moved down the table to the large carafes that held coffee and hot water for tea. She poured a mug and held it up to her face, inhaling the heady scent of coffee beans. Ah, ambrosia for her soul.

“Hey, partner.”

John was pouring his own cup of coffee. “Good morning to you. How did you sleep?”

He gave her a wry grin and shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. I had so many ideas bubbling in my brain that I stayed up late drawing different sketches of the house.”

“Sketches are good.”

He took a long sip of coffee, then sighed. “We’re going to need a coffee maker at the house since I subsist on caffeine and pizza. And that’s on a good day.”

She laughed and nodded. “Me, too.” She had an old percolator that she was in the habit of hauling to each work site because she couldn’t get through her day without regular infusions of caffeine.

“Well, we have one thing in common at least.” He glanced at the others in the room. “Is it just me or do you feel like we’re the underdogs in this contest? That the contestants have dismissed us already as competitors?”

It was what had kept her up the night before, tossing and turning as she mulled over her doubts. True, she had made it this far, but now what? She felt as if she and John had lost already before the contest had even started. “You’re not imagining that. I feel it, too.”

She noticed his brown eyes held a golden gleam in them. “We could use that to our advantage, you know. Let them underestimate us. And in the meantime, we’ll swoop in and take the top prize.”

She wished she had such confidence. “Do you really think we could win?”

Before he could answer, Christopher Belvedere swept through the door, flanked by a pair of assistants presumably, and called for everyone’s attention. The rest of the contestants took seats around the main table that dominated the room. John found them two available seats and used his free hand to pull her chair out for her before sitting down himself. Mr. Belvedere stood at a lectern at one end of the table. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. If we could all listen up, we can begin this first meeting.” He nodded at his assistants. “We’re passing around information sheets with the rules and regulations for the contest. Much of this is a repeat of what we discussed during your interviews, but I’d like to go over each item and address any questions.”

A thick sheaf of papers was dropped down on the table, next to Cassie’s plate. She skimmed the first page as she bit into a fresh strawberry. Most of the text was standard rules and regulations for renovating a house. Permits would be pulled, inspections made regularly. She didn’t have a chance to read it all before Mr. Belvedere started talking.

“First, let me congratulate you all on being chosen. You are all part of an elite group of builders and designers, the cream of the crop in Detroit.”

The affirmation made Cassie’s heart want to sing out. See that? She was special.

“Second, since this is the premier contest there may be unexpected challenges for you and us as we navigate these unchartered waters. The mayor has assured us that he will assist us in the necessary bureaucracy of the city’s agencies. That being said, I am also here to help you in getting permits arranged, inspections cleared, and so on. Do not hesitate to reach out to me or my office.”

Seated across the table from Cassie, Beckett raised his hand. “I have a question about the security of these houses. Is there anything in place to protect our work?”

Mr. Belvedere cleared his throat and spoke again. “All of you were chosen not only for your talent and skills but also for your integrity. We have confidence that no one will be stealing ideas or anything else.”

Several people turned to look at Cassie, and she bristled under the attention. She wasn’t here to take something that didn’t belong to her, but to prove that she had what it took to keep her father’s business going until he returned and was exonerated. She shook her head and muttered, “Why do I feel like there’s a target on my back?”

John inclined his head toward hers and whispered, “Like I said, we should use that to our advantage.”

The meeting continued as they reviewed the packet of information, including a list of vendors who were helping to sponsor the contest and would provide deep discounts. She perused the names and gave a nod. She knew many of them from previous jobs, so she could vouch for the quality of their materials.

The doors to the boardroom opened, and several assistants walked in with large cardboard boxes. Mr. Belvedere smirked. “And here is our first challenge in the contest. As you know, homes are getting smarter as more technology is used to enhance the lives of those who live there. We want these homes to use cutting-edge digital devices to make them safer as well as more practical. In each box, you will find a suite of technology to be incorporated into your projects. Home connectivity and security systems that will bring these residences into the twenty-first century. This is a step up from current systems sold, the next generation of symbiotic connectivity. With this technology, the families that move into your homes will be able to make their lives easier with a simple spoken command.”

A box was placed in front of Cassie and John. She rose to her feet and opened the lid, groaning at the sight of a bunch of computerized circuitry. She’d never been good at this part of the job. Give her a piece of pipe to replace or a socket to install, any day. But electronics and cable? She shuddered at the thought.

John stood next to her and perused the items in the box, as well, and shrugged. “I installed my own home sound system, so maybe I can help the experts. Won’t we have to plan where we want the walls before the cables can be placed correctly?”

“Yes. And, how will all this fit in with your ideas?”

He stared at her, and she swallowed her irritation. His eyes didn’t waver or show any doubt as he answered, “We’ll make it work.”

She nodded and sat back down.

Mr. Belvedere tapped a pen on the lectern. “We’ll have more challenges as we go along, and I look forward to seeing how you incorporate them into your designs. In the near future, you will also be assigned a family who will be gifted the home at the end of the contest, so keep that in mind as you design.”

He wished them good luck, reminded them of the three-month deadline and left the room.

John packed everything back into the box and placed the lid on top. He checked his watch before his gaze landed on her. “Do you have plans now? I thought we should go over some of the sketches and get a jump on where to start.”

“I’m all yours.” She frowned at how that sounded. “I mean, I’m free. Do you want to go to the house to do that? We need to start determining what stays and what goes before demolition tomorrow.”

He finished his coffee, then placed the empty cup on the table. “No, I want to get some real food. Do you know Lolly’s on Grand Boulevard? We could meet there and have lunch.”

“Great,” she replied, following him as he carried the tech box out of the building.






JOHN HELD THE door to the diner open for Cassie, and they took a booth near the back. He waved to a waitress, who brought over a full carafe of coffee and placed it on a ceramic stone in the center of the table. “Ah, Marie, you know me so well. Leave your no-good husband and marry me instead.”

She laughed as she poured the first mug and handed it to him. “You couldn’t afford me.”

He took a quick sip of the black brew. “You spoil me, so I’d have to find a way to treat you well. Even if it meant robbing a bank.”

She hit him on the shoulder with a plastic menu before placing it in front of him. He chuckled as Marie handed a menu to Cassie, who was staring at him, eyebrows raised. “I take it they know you here.”

“I’m a bachelor who lives around the corner and eats most of my meals at Lolly’s.” Relaxed, he put his arms across the back of the booth. “I couldn’t ask for a better kitchen.”

Cassie shook her head and opened the menu.

Once they ordered, John took his time stirring cream into his coffee, focusing on each turn of the spoon. The clink it made as it hit the side of the mug. The milk-scented steam rising. The dark brown swirling into an ecru. It was almost like a ritual before he brought the cup to his lips and sipped from it. He sighed in appreciation.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you like coffee.”

“Nope.” He took another sip and closed his eyes. “And I’ll need lots of it to do my best work.”

Cassie laid her hands on the table. “Before we get into the nuts and bolts of what we’re about to do, I have a question for you. Why did you enter the contest?”

“I needed a new challenge and a new career. This contest seemed to provide both.” He eyed her over the coffee mug. “What about you? Why did you enter the contest?”

“When we win, I’m going to use the money and the publicity to bring back Lowman Construction to what it once was.”

John gave a whistle. “When we win, huh? I like the sound of that. Which reminds me...” He brought out his sketchbook, flipped through a few pages and laid it open on the table. “This is a rough idea of the current floor plan. It will help me to stay focused on the space available.” He pointed to a page and slid the book closer to Cassie. “This is what I’m thinking for the kitchen.”

Cassie looked up from the book. “The kitchen? The living room’s not the priority?”

“Kitchens are where everyone spends most of their time, right?”

He turned to another page. “Without cabinets and a sink already in place, we can design the kitchen however we wish, from top to bottom. I saw this farmhouse sink at a salvage yard that would be perfect, and I thought that—”

She held up a hand. “Who said anything about a salvage yard?”

“Me. Just now.”

“I’m not putting junk in our house.”

“I didn’t say anything about junk.” He pointed to the sketch of the sink he’d drawn from memory. “This is a good-quality piece that just needs a good home. And it’ll cost a lot less than any we’d find at those pricey vendors on the list.”

“I’m not putting anything used in our house. We need new, quality materials that will put us over the top. Don’t you want to win?”

“Let’s face it. I didn’t enter the contest to lose, and neither did you. ” He glanced up as Marie placed their meals in front of them and he thanked her. “Cassie, I think that this could give us an edge over our competitors. Repurposing what we can and finding salvaged pieces where we can’t. Everyone else can be slightly different versions of each other, but we’ll be unique.”

Cassie shook her head. “No, we’ll look as if we bought our supplies at a garage sale. My dad would never have done that.”

“Do you always do what your dad would have wanted? You can’t honestly be that naive.” He grabbed up his soupspoon, but then paused. “Haven’t you done any research? Salvaging is a big trend, and it’s one I want to incorporate into my ideas.”

“Don’t forget that they may be your ideas, but it’s our house. I have a say in this, too.” She picked at her sandwich. “I’ve never worked with salvaged materials,” she mumbled.

“Is that why you’re afraid to try them?”

She raised her head to glare at him. “I’m not afraid.”

She might have said the words, but the quaver in her voice told him that she probably wrestled with the same fears that had kept him up the night before. “Aren’t you? You have a lot riding on this contest.”

“As do you.”

He nodded and leaned forward. “Exactly. This is why I want to step out of the cookie-cutter mold everyone else will use and do something different.”

She plucked a piece of bacon from the BLT and stuffed it in her mouth. He could almost see the gears in her brain working as she chewed. Finally she swallowed and turned to another page of his sketchbook. “I’m willing to consider it. Now what’s this?”

He ran a finger along the edge of the picture. He’d thought of this when he remembered his grandmother’s house and drawing pictures at the kitchen table when he was about six years old. “That’s the window in the breakfast nook. I’d like to turn it into a window seat, which will save space and provide storage beneath it.”

“Now, that I like.”

They flipped through more sketches, and she commented on several. Reaching the last of them, she gave a nod. “You do have some good ideas.”

“But you’re not sold on them yet.”

“No.” She fidgeted with her napkin. “John, this contest means I can turn my father’s company into my own. We need to be number one. Second place still makes us losers.”

He reached over and put his hand on top of hers, stilling it for a moment. “This is my second chance at finding my life’s work. It used to be cars, but getting laid off made me realize that I was ready for a change. Something that will bring back that love of design. I want this as much as you do.”

She removed her hand from his. “I understand. More than you know.”






AFTER LUNCH, BACK at the house, Cassie stared up at the next three months of her life, dilapidated as it was. In the light of day, the home looked worse than she had remembered it. Could she and John and the Buttuccis do as the Belvedere Foundation wanted and find the jewel underneath the rubble?

John walked up behind her. “I don’t remember it looking so abandoned and sad last night.”

“Dusk can hide a lot of flaws.” She held up the key to the front door. “Let’s take our time and do another walk-through.”

“Let me grab my sketchbook.” He left her and retrieved it from the front seat of his car along with a tin that held his charcoal pencils. “I want to do a quick sketch of the exterior before we go in.”

She pointed at the blank page and then at him. “You draw. I’m going in.”

But he was already absorbed in getting the lines of the house drawn on paper. She noticed the weeds growing from between the cement slabs. How much of their budget could they allocate to landscaping? Much of the neglect only needed some muscle to fix, which wouldn’t cost anything but several hours. She put a hand on the overgrown browning shrubs that flanked the front porch. Some pruning might bring them back to life.

She glanced behind her. John was frowning as he continued to sketch. Was he seeing the same neglect that she saw? Or did his artistic eye see possibilities that she couldn’t get to yet? Shaking off the thoughts, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

The hole where Biggie had fallen through the floor to the ground gaped at her as if it, too, was surprised to find itself there. She knelt and stared down at the crawl space revealed below. If the house had sat on a basement, he would have fallen through the rotting floor at least ten feet instead of only the few that he had. The damp wood along the jagged edges seemed to indicate it was more a cause of rotting wood rather than the foundation. Thankfully, it might mean the problem was limited to the living room and did not pervade the entire house.

The front door swung open and John breezed in with his sketchbook. He groaned at the hole. “I’d almost forgotten about that.”

Cassie put her hands on her knees and pushed herself to a standing position. “I wish I had. We’ll have to walk carefully in this room until we know for sure how much of the floorboards have rotted. I don’t know if it’s extended to the bedrooms or not.”

He nodded and took careful steps toward the hall that led to the bedrooms and bathroom. “The layout looks smaller than I remember.”

“It was probably made in the years immediately after World War II, when houses were built quickly and with only the basic needs in mind. My guess is that we have about fifteen hundred square feet. Eighteen hundred, if we’re lucky.” She knelt and touched the green shag carpet in the hallway. “It’s not damp here, so we might be okay with the floors through the rest of the house.”

John drew more lines and curves on the page before moving into one of the bedrooms. “I wonder if we could get a hold of the original blueprints for this place.”

“Maybe.” She opened the folding closet door. “We could probably check the attic.” She pointed to a covered access point. “I can grab my ladder from the truck if we want to go up now.”

“With all the spiders and creepy crawlies, not to mention dust and cobwebs?” He shuddered and gave a grimace. “I’ll wait until we’re dressed more appropriately.”

“Chicken.”

He waggled his eyebrows and walked across the hall to the bathroom, which sported avocado green and harvest gold tiles. Based on the colors, style and condition, she figured it had been renovated in the 1970s. John frowned. “You don’t see a green toilet very often.”

“Don’t forget the matching avocado bathtub.” She put a hand on the shower rod and gave it a tug. It didn’t budge, and she figured that meant the tiles and fixtures would be harder to remove. “We’ll need to replace all of this. I’m thinking a fiberglass shower enclosure and bathtub. Maybe a low-flush toilet. Pedestal sink.”

“Maybe.”

She raised her eyebrows at this. “You want to keep green and gold?”

He shuddered much as he had at the mention of spiders. “I like the green. Maybe combine it with a color like ecru to make it more earthy. More Zen. And a pedestal sink won’t give much storage in an already cramped space.”

“Yes, but it will open up the look of the room more than a cabinet with a sink would.”

“Maybe.”

She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Do you plan on disagreeing with everything I say?”

“I’m leaving us open to options right now.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Back in the kitchen, they peered at the walls. She said, “The age of the house could be to our advantage because the structure was built to last. If we gut it to the studs, we can open things up and make it look bigger.”

“What about removing the wall between here and the living room? So that it’s more like one large room rather than two? Maybe like this.” He sketched a quick floor plan to demonstrate what he meant.

Cassie put her hand on the doorjamb and looked up at the ceiling. “That could be a load-bearing wall, so we’ll have to take that into consideration. But I can see what you mean. I like it.”

He grinned and walked toward the kitchen window, tucking the sketchpad under his arm. “So when do we start?”

“We’ll start demolition tomorrow, especially on the bathroom. Tear up the floor in the living room. Take the walls down to the studs to see what we’re working with underneath. And then what comes after that depends on you and your designs.”

The cell phone in her front pants pocket started to vibrate. She pulled it out and stared at the number on the display. It wasn’t one that she recognized. Tempted to let the call go to voice mail, she changed her mind suddenly and swiped to the right to answer it. “Lowman Construction.”

“Cass.”

Her father.

She held her breath, not knowing what to say. She hadn’t heard from him in almost a year, since the day before he disappeared. They’d been working on a job site, and he’d said good-night to her as he always did while she stayed behind to secure it before going home herself. There’d been no indication he was about to flee. No hint that he was even under investigation. She noticed John, so she stepped into the living room for privacy.

“Cass, you don’t really think a contest is going to help, do you? I wouldn’t have done it.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice. It will help me get the company back.” She blinked quickly to keep the tears from falling. “Daddy, where are you?”

Silence. She held the phone away from her to see that he’d already hung up. She checked her call history and pressed her finger to the last number received. But it only rang until she gave up.




CHAPTER THREE (#u33adde75-63a0-5381-a3a5-d5eec39f393a)


CASSIE NOTED THE time on her truck’s dashboard and swallowed a curse. She’d promised her mother she’d be on time for dinner for once, but she was late by ten minutes already. She could blame the traffic for the delay, but the new house had eaten up her day.

After the phone call from her father, she’d allowed herself only five minutes to ruminate before switching her attention back to the project. If John noticed she was distracted even for a short while, he refrained from mentioning it.

She pulled into her mother’s driveway and stopped behind her sister’s sleek sports car. A quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed that her hair looked as if she’d brushed it that morning and had done nothing to it since then. It was her usual MO. She wasn’t one to waste minutes on her appearance beyond what was necessary. She took in her white shirt and frowned at the smear of something that she had brushed against while she and John discussed plans for their house.

Their house. It almost sounded as if they were a couple. Not that she’d mind if those golden brown eyes of his turned in her direction with something akin to admiration. Or that generous mouth of his did something besides make impossible suggestions or logically reject her ideas.

The front door opened, and her mother stood in the doorway peering at her. Best get inside and take her lumps. She got out of the truck, walked up to her mother and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Your sister arrived ten minutes early.”

Of course, she had. Andie was never late for anything. “I was at the house with my partner, John.”

Her sister gave her a swift hug. “I saw his picture next to yours in the paper. Quite a dish. Think you’ll introduce me?”

Cassie gave her sister a once-over. Andie wore a cream lace top over moss green linen pants that refused to wrinkle. Her long dark hair was swept up in a ponytail with not a strand out of place. How did she make gorgeous look so easy? If John saw her, Cassie would never get a chance.

Not that she was looking for one. They had to work together. Anything else would just complicate matters.

She shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll meet eventually. You could drop by the house once we begin the demo.”

Andie wrinkled her nose. “And get sawdust all over my clothes?” She shuddered, then laughed. “But for a good-looking man, I might take that risk.”

Right. Her sister couldn’t get dirty, which is why she’d been the receptionist at her father’s office instead of being on-site. Cassie sniffed the air and grinned. “You made shepherd’s pie?” It was her favorite as well as her father’s.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve had it,” her mother said.

Since her father had disappeared last summer. Had her mom received a call from him, too?

Her mother led them into the dining room, which was already set with china and crystal. Her mother believed that every day was a cause to celebrate, so they used the good stuff on a regular basis. She motioned for her and Andie to take their usual places on either side of the table, seating herself at the end. Conversation waited while they filled their plates with the casserole, salad and rolls.

It seemed like lunch with John had been a decade ago rather than six hours. She couldn’t seem to get the food in fast enough, and she stopped momentarily to see her mother watching her with a wrinkle in her brow. Cassie put her fork down. “Sorry. I guess I was hungry.”

Her mother sighed and took a sip of wine from her glass. “I saw the write-up for the contest in the paper this morning.”

The hidden message being Cassie hadn’t called her with the news first. “I didn’t get home until late, then I had an early meeting at the Belvedere Foundation this morning.”

“So what’s the house like?” Andie asked as she buttered her roll.

How to describe the disaster? “Old and out-of-date. Run down from neglect and abandonment. But there’s potential there. I think we could really make something of this place.”

“You sound like your father when he started a job.”

Cassie glanced at her mother. “That’s good, right?”

Her mother made a face as if to dismiss the words. A look of pain entered her mother’s features before she took another sip of wine. If Cassie missed her father, how much more had her mother missed him? She never talked about it, but it had to have taken a toll. Especially while being under the scrutiny of the police. None of them had any answers at the time of his disappearance, much less after almost a year.

Cassie looked down at her plate, wondering if she should bring up her father’s call. It had been short, almost nothing. Less than sixty seconds. But it had stirred something in her. Something she needed to say aloud to her family, if no one else. She took a deep breath and turned to her mother. “He called me.”

Andie gasped and put a hand to her mouth while her mother set her wine glass on the table and leaned forward. “When?”

“This afternoon.” Cassie pulled the cell phone from her pants pocket and put it on the table. “He criticized me for entering the contest. That was it, then he was gone.”

Her mother’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “You need to tell the police.”

“I know, but—”

Her mother’s expression was one of total fury. “Cassandra Jane, you need to tell them. We can’t keep something like this from them.”

“There’s not much to tell, Mom. I tried calling the number back, but it keeps ringing.” She unlocked the phone and showed the call history. Seven times she’d called. And seven times he hadn’t answered.

Her mother rose to her feet and left the dining room. Andromeda took the phone from Cassie. She ran her finger over the display, pressed the number and placed the phone to her ear.

Cassie reached out for the cell, but her sister held it away from her. “I told you, he didn’t answer any of my calls.”

After a moment, Andie nodded and handed her the phone. “He knew about the contest. That must mean he’s in the area still.”

“Or he’s keeping track of us online. It’s not like you have to be in Detroit to know what’s going on.”

“He’s watching over you at least. He’s never called me.”

The bitterness in her sister’s words mirrored the sour look on her face. She placed her napkin beside her plate, then left.

Cassie glanced around the empty room. Despite the beautiful place settings and the delicious food, ugliness had found its way to mar the family dinner. She soon found her mother and sister in the backyard, her sister leaning against the deck railing while her mother walked along the perimeter of the yard pulling at weeds. Andie put a hand on Cassie’s arm when she started down the steps to join her mother. “Let her grieve.”

“He’s not dead.”

“He’s not coming back, so he might as well be.”

Cassie shook off her sister’s hand and met her mother by the lilac bush that had been planted there when she was born. She’d always thought of it as hers because of that. Now she snapped off a fragrant bloom and held it out to her mother. “I’m sorry.”

Closing her eyes, her mother held up the flower to her nose and took a deep breath. She reached out and patted Cassie’s shoulder. “It’s your father’s fault, not yours. He’s the one who got into this mess.”

“I’ll contact the detective to let him know Daddy called me.”

“It’s the right thing to do, Cassandra.” She looked up at the house. “The lawyer thinks we may have to sell the place to pay back the missing money that your father took.”

Andie joined them. “We didn’t take the money, so why should we pay it back?”

Cassie knew that even if they got top dollar, the sale of the house wouldn’t be enough to pay back everyone in full. More than half a million dollars was missing from the company’s accounts. “When were you going to tell us this?”

Their mother shook her head. “When I knew something more definite. Why get you upset over something that might not happen? I’ve been thinking about calling a Realtor to put it on the market.”

“If you do sell the house, where will you go?” Cassie asked.

Andie glanced at her, but Cassie shook her head. “My house is still under construction.”

“It’s been that way since you bought it two years ago. When are you planning on finishing it?” her sister scolded.

As soon as she had more money. She’d started renovating it right after she’d moved in, but the funds had dried up after the first year. Now she fixed things as time and money allowed. It was livable for her, but her mother had higher standards. Like a kitchen that had walls besides studs. “Mother could stay with you at your apartment.”

“On the pull-out sofa? I don’t think so.”

“Girls, I appreciate the offers but I’ll figure something out myself.” She put a hand on first Andromeda’s cheek, then Cassandra’s. “We’ll get through this like we have everything else.”

In Cassie’s mind, they’d gotten through it by not talking about it. At all. One day, her father had been there. The next, he hadn’t been, along with the half a million according to the detective assigned to the case. She had been questioned since she was directly involved with the construction business, but it became clear she had no idea where her father was or what he had done. She didn’t believe he could do the things they blamed him for. Her father was no thief, but she didn’t have an explanation for the missing money. His disappearance only added weight to their accusations.

Cassie slapped at a mosquito that nibbled on her wrist. “We still don’t know for sure that it was Daddy who took the money.”

Andie gave her a scowl and turned back to the house. Cassie knew that her sister never doubted that their father was guilty of everything that the detectives had accused him of. But she had her reservations. Daddy wouldn’t steal from his own company, much less the clients who were the lifeblood of their business. He wouldn’t do that to her. She’d hoped to keep the business running after he retired in the next ten years or so. Yet, there were times she wondered if he could have done it. If he had.

Her mother looked even sadder than before as she put a hand on Cassie’s shoulder. “Cassandra...” She blinked and then gave a quick shake of her head. “Let’s go finish dinner. We’ll talk about this later.”

Cassie watched her retreat. She doubted they would talk. Though part of her needed to get these fears and doubts off her chest. To share what had kept her awake at night.

But she was a Lowman. And her family didn’t speak about unpleasant topics if they could be avoided.

Cassie slapped at another mosquito and joined her family inside the dining room, where they resumed eating. She took her seat and placed the napkin back on her lap, picked up her fork and dragged it through the mashed potato crust of the shepherd’s pie. She was no longer hungry.






BEFORE HEADING TO the house for the first day of demolition, John picked up coffees for the team. Not sure how they liked to drink it, he asked for packets of cream and sugar on the side. Because of his stop, he was the last to arrive. Cassie’s truck had the tailgate down. He picked up the cardboard carrier, carefully removed himself from the car and approached the house. One of the Buttucci brothers walked out of the open doorway and grunted a welcome. John held up the carrier. “I brought liquid motivation”

Biggie took one cup with a murmur of thanks and continued his journey to the truck to grab a sledgehammer. John followed him inside and grimaced at the hole in the floor that seemed to gape even wider. “Good morning,” he called down the hallway, where he could hear voices drifting out of the bathroom.

Cassie appeared and held up her hand in greeting. “John, I wasn’t expecting you this early.”

A horse of a dog galloped into the living room from the kitchen and stood between him and Cassie. John took a step back. Cassie put a hand in the dog’s blond fur. “This is Evie. She’s a Belgian Bouvier de Flandres, so she thinks she’s my protector.”

“You bring your dog to the work site?”

“She’s well trained, and I’ll keep her in the backyard.” Cassie shrugged. “She wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, I work long hours on a job and it’s nice to have someone who thinks she’s tougher than she is to keep me safe. Do you have a problem with that?” She looked him over and he wondered if he’d worn something wrong. “Why are you here for the demolition? Shouldn’t you be home drawing up sketches or something?”

“You don’t think I can help you tear out tile and rotten wood planks?” He held out a cup of coffee to her. “I can do this.” Biggie hefted the sledgehammer over his shoulder. John gave a nod. “I’m part of this team, and I’d appreciate it if you would include me.”

“Suit yourself.” She took the cup and held it up in salute. “Thanks. I brought my coffee maker but forgot the beans. I’ll pick some up during our lunch break.”

Tiny joined them. “George is renovating the house across the street and said the dumpsters are being delivered later this morning. We’ll have to remove the debris and put it in the front yard for now.”

“Actually, I have an idea about that. I’d like to use some of the broken tiles in a mosaic.” John quickly tore a piece off a paper bag that held supplies. He removed the pencil from the back pocket of his jeans and drew an outline of a star divided into smaller squares and triangles. “I was thinking we could reuse the tile to create something to hang on the wall or maybe a patio table for the backyard.”

“In avocado and gold?” Cassie shook her head. “I don’t know about that. Not exactly a winning color combination.”

She had a point. “Are there any rules that say we can’t use what other teams are throwing out? I might be able to get more tiles in other colors that way.”

Tiny looked skeptically at his brother. “We’re decorating with trash now?” he asked.

“We’re salvaging what we can. The Belvedere Foundation said we had hidden gems here in this neighborhood. Why not carry out that theme in the decor too?” John knew he had a great idea, but the other three didn’t look convinced. “What would it hurt to let me try this?”

Cassie glared at him. “We’re limited on time as it is.”

“I’ll work on it during my free time.” Granted, he had the same twenty-four hours in a day that everyone else was allotted, but he’d find time to work on something that had meaning to him.

He could practically see the gears turning in Cassie’s brain before she gave a short nod. “Do what you want. But if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t stay in the design.”

“Agreed.”

Biggie seemed to have a gleam in his eye as he took the sledgehammer and headed down the hallway to the bathroom. In a few seconds, a loud crash followed by the tinkle of broken tiles hitting the floor filled the quiet. Cassie smiled and rubbed her hands together. “Here’s to the start of a beautiful home.”

John looked around. “What would you have me do?”

“Find a pair of gloves and start placing the broken tiles and plaster in one of the empty bins I brought. When it’s full, place the bin outside.” She slipped a pair of goggles over her eyes and put on her own pair of gloves. “Tiny and I are tearing up carpet.”

He found an empty bin in the kitchen along with other supplies, including an extra pair of work gloves. He’d have to go and get some of his own soon if he wanted to continue this new career. Putting them on, he skirted around Cassie, who was pulling up the soggy shag carpet in the living room. She moaned as she saw the ruined wood floor underneath. “There’s nothing to save here.”

Tiny agreed. “Maybe it’ll be okay in the bedrooms.”

“If we’re lucky.”

John met Biggie in the bathroom. The big man gave a grunt and smashed the sledgehammer between the bathtub and toilet. John scooped up debris and put it in the bin and smiled to himself when Biggie hefted the sledgehammer over his shoulder and brought it down with force against the wall.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Biggie nodded and continued to smash tile. John filled one bin, took it outside and exchanged it for another empty one. As he walked back through the house, he watched Tiny roll the last of the carpet into one long, wet roll and throw it over his shoulder. Cassie yanked a bandanna from her back pocket and wiped her forehead before tying it around her hair. “I’ll have to bring fans tomorrow to keep us cool while we’re working if this heat continues.”

“It should. It’s the end of May.”

“You never know. It’s also Michigan, so we could get a cold front at any moment.” She stared at John, her head cocked to one side. “You might not want to wear your best pair of jeans for this job. Especially during demo.”

John looked down at his pants. “This isn’t my best pair.”

“I’m just saying you’re not going to want to wear nice clothes when we’re at these beginning stages. If ever.” She pulled at the edge of her tank top. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to replace these because of paint splatter or because of rips and tears.”

“I get it, Cassie.”

She watched him for a moment and then nodded. “I know.”

But her expression at what he wore made him think she did believe him to be slightly clueless. He swallowed a rebuke and returned to the bathroom, where Biggie sat on the edge of the tub, wiping his forehead with a rag. John bent and started putting more debris into the bin. Biggie stood and put a hand on John’s shoulder, making him look up. “She’s only looking out for you, you know?”

Surprised the big man could be soft-spoken, John nodded and returned to his job.






THE DUMPSTER ARRIVED and was positioned between their house and the one next door, which was assigned to Butler Construction. Cassie wheeled the first bin of debris to dump into the huge receptacle and almost stumbled over Nick, one of her competitors. He tossed an armful of rotten wood panels into the dumpster, then watched her empty the bin from her side.

“Congratulations on being one of the finalists,” he offered.

“You, too. But then I figured you were a shoo-in.”

He grinned. “Well, I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but my brothers and I also landed a huge contract for a subdivision.”

The crown jewel for a contractor. A subdivision meant years of steady work and income. Her father hadn’t had a contract like that for a while. “That’s great, Nick. Will your brothers be able to do it on their own with you here?”

“They’ll keep me in the loop until the contest is over.” He looked behind her toward her house. “Is yours as big of a nightmare as ours?”

She didn’t want to give too much of their situation away to a fellow competitor. Better to keep certain things to herself for now. “I’ve seen worse, but we’ll be fine. My designer has a lot of big ideas.”

“The car guy? No offense, Cass, but what does he know about designing a home?”

Hearing him voice her own doubts about John raised her hackles. “Knows a lot more than Tiffany, whose idea of high concept is open space filled with tchotchkes and knickknacks.”

Nick bristled at the insult to his partner’s design ideas and left. Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have antagonized the first contractor to have been nice to her. But then, he’d tried to make her doubt John’s abilities, and for better or worse they were a team. She turned to find John holding a rolled-up piece of carpet on his shoulder. She wondered how much of the conversation he’d heard.

He threw the carpet into the dumpster. “You shouldn’t be fraternizing with the enemy. He’s trying to get under your skin and undermine your confidence...”

“I know he is.”

“...and to make me look like the reason you’ll lose.”

The truth was, some of John’s ideas had already made her wonder if she’d been paired with the wrong person. She needed to win this contest, and that meant having a designer who would knock the socks off the judges. She wasn’t yet convinced that John was that person. She pointed at him. “You better not let me down.”

“Back at you.” He turned on his heel but paused, then continued down the sidewalk past other homes in the neighborhood.

Where was he going? They had work to do, and he was choosing to go on a stroll? Now? She shook her head and pushed the bin back to the house. Tiny sat on an upside-down garbage can, chugging a bottle of water. He finished and gestured behind her. “Where’s John?”

“Went for a walk.”

Tiny gave her a look. “What did you say to him?”

She held out her hands at her sides. “How do you know it’s what I said?”

“Because if he said something goofy to you, you’d be the one walking around the neighborhood to calm your temper.”

“I told him not to let me down.”

Tiny removed his ball cap and scratched at his balding head. “Isn’t it kind of early to start doubting his abilities?”

She knew he was right, but she wasn’t ready to concede just yet. “I haven’t seen much of his abilities beyond pencil sketches and ideas to use trash to make wall hangings.”

“And you wonder why he walked off?”

She sighed and leaned on the doorframe to the kitchen. “I need this win. We all do if we want to keep Daddy’s company going.”

“It’ll take more than winning a contest for that to happen, sweetie, and you know it.”

Tiny didn’t understand. No one seemed to. Winning meant she could prove to everyone that she was just as good a builder as her father. And maybe prove it to herself. If she won, that would mean restarting Lowman Construction under her management. She could be what she’d always wanted—her own boss. Was it too much to ask for?






JOHN GOT TO the end of the street before it ended at the large avenue, crossed and started his trek back. What had he been thinking? Was this contest really the answer to his worries? He’d been lost and floundering, unsure of what to do next. The announcement by the Belvedere Foundation seemed to be the solution he’d been waiting for. What if it hadn’t been? What if he had put all his hopes in something that would lead to nothing? If they won, his designs would be seen across the country. With that kind of exposure and his half of the quarter of a million dollars, he could start his own business. They’d be his own deadlines rather than having to answer to a supervisor who left things to the last minute and expected him to accomplish the impossible.

He passed several more homes and slowed his pace. These ones sat closer to the main road and seemed older and more unique than the cookie-cutter-style homes at the other end that they were renovating. His fingers itched, and he wished that he’d brought his sketchpad. That and water, since the day was so warm. He stopped to wipe his forehead, then peered up at the scorching sun.

“You look like you could use a drink of water, young man.”

John shielded his eyes to see where the voice had come from. An older woman, fanning herself, was sitting on a wooden glider on a covered porch. He walked up the short path to her house. “Yes, ma’am. It’s a hot one today.”

She pointed at the porch steps. “You stay there. I’ll be right back.”

He put a foot on the first step and waited. The woman returned with a glass of water that had about a dozen cubes of ice floating in it.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He took a long drink, then placed the cool glass against his sweaty forehead. “That hits the spot.”

She gave a wave of her hand. “Call me Loretta.”

“And I’m John.”

She motioned to a wicker chair that sported a crocheted pillow on the seat. “You might as well sit while you finish your drink.”

He sat down, took another long pull of the cold water and let out a sigh. “Thank you for this. I should have brought water on my walk.”

“Where you walking to?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere. I needed to clear my head before I said some things better left unsaid.”

She winked. “Problem with a woman?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking.” He looked up at the ceiling of the porch, where someone had painted a rainbow. “Who’s the artist?”

“My granddaughter thought it needed some sprucing up. And I’m getting too old to be climbing on ladders to paint a porch that is exposed to the elements.”

“She’s got talent.”

The woman smiled. “You one of those contest people?”

“Yes. I’m a designer.”

“When they announced the contest, there were folks around here who worried about what that meant for our little neighborhood. They like the quiet and what’s familiar. Me? I miss the young families that brought the noise only children could bring.” She leaned forward on the glider. “Do you think they’ll sell those houses to families?”

“I believe they are being given to deserving families. They haven’t shared many details on that so far.”

She nodded again and looked out at the houses that lined the street. “When things got bad, people losing their jobs and their homes, half the neighborhood disappeared.” She put a hand to her lips, shaking her head. “There’s only a bunch of us left now.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Since my Walter came home from Vietnam and asked me to marry him. This was his mama’s house.” She set the glider to rocking. “Almost fifty good years we’ve had here. My daughter keeps talking about selling up and moving us to one of those assisted living places. I don’t want to give up my home. It don’t matter how convenient it is for her to have us there. It’s not convenient for me.”

“Do you know when the house was built?”

“Walter’s granddad built it from a kit he bought from Sears. Can you believe that?” She laughed and shook her head.

John had figured it might have been a Craftsman home and longed to see what it looked like inside. But his mom had taught him manners, so he didn’t invite himself in. Instead, he finished his water and held out the empty glass to Loretta. “Thank you for the drink. I need to get back to work.”

“Which house is yours?”

“Number 2905.”

She grinned. “The Czarnecks used to live there. I remember their green and yellow bathroom.” She made a face. “There’s no accounting for some people’s tastes.” She stood as he did so. “On your next break, stop back here. I might have some pictures of the neighborhood from the old days.”

“I’d appreciate that, Miss Loretta.”

She walked him to the edge of the porch. “Are all the people in this contest as polite as you?”

“I’m one of a kind.”

“That you are, John. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

He stepped off the porch and waved once he reached the sidewalk. When he returned to the house, he located Cassie sitting on the floor, her legs dangling in the hole. She looked up at him as he entered. “You’re back.” He nodded and looked around for the brothers. “They left to pick up lunch for us.”

He gestured to the hole. “You thinking of keeping it there?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Nope. Just thinking.”

He took a seat next to her and dangled his legs close to hers. “I want to win this contest, but that means working together, not arguing. That applies to both of us.”

“I really need this, John.”

Her eyes were dewy with moisture. The vulnerability he saw made him want to put his arms around her, to whisper into her hair that everything would be okay. Instead, he sat quietly next to her and let her think.

Finally, she gave a deep sigh. “We should get moving. Sitting here and hoping for things to be different isn’t going to win this contest.”

When she started to stand, John tugged on her hand. “Cassie, for better or worse we’re a team, and we need to start acting like one. You need my input for the construction just as I need yours for the design. We have to do this together. I need to know I can rely on you. And let me reassure you that you can depend on me.”

She stared at their joined hands. “The only one I’ve ever depended on was my dad. And you know how that turned out. Trust has to be earned.”

She took a step back and started to walk into the kitchen but turned back. “I want to trust you, John. I’m just scared to.”

He stood and winced at the tearing sound. He reached behind and felt where his jeans had ripped thanks to the jagged edge of the floor he’d been sitting on. Cassie tried to squelch a giggle, but he could see that she was amused by this. “I told you not to wear nice clothes on site.”

Lesson learned. He hoped at least the tear wouldn’t expose too much of him.




CHAPTER FOUR (#u33adde75-63a0-5381-a3a5-d5eec39f393a)


WHILE CASSIE AND the brothers finished demolishing the house, John focused his attention on the design. He’d need solid ideas before Monday, so he immersed himself in homes. Books. Magazines. House renovation programs on television. He started a vision board online, posting ideas into a folder that soon grew so large he couldn’t remember if he’d already saved something.

When staying in his apartment got too much and everything started to look the same, he signed up for a seminar at a Detroit Public Library branch on the Art Deco movement and its influence on architecture and home design. Not that it matched what he wanted to do in their house, but it could inspire other ideas.

The Thursday-afternoon crowd at the library’s auditorium consisted mostly of senior citizens, along with a handful of college-age students who sat near the front row with notebooks and tablets poised for the lecture. John took a seat about halfway down the aisle and checked his phone for any last messages before powering it off.

“John?”

He didn’t have to look at the face to recognize that voice. Inwardly cringing, he raised his eyes to find his ex-fiancée standing in the aisle. “Alison.” He stood, his mother’s training reminding him that he was always a gentleman, despite the circumstances. “How are you?”

“Great.” She seemed to be judging his appearance, starting from his shoes and moving her way up. “And you?”

He didn’t answer immediately, unsure of what to say. Lonely since you left. Angry that you broke things off. Relieved that I found out since what kind of person you were before we got married. But he kept all that to himself and replied, “Fine. I didn’t know you were into Art Deco. Modern was more your style.”

“I took the day off from work for some me time. This seemed a better option than more shopping.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I saw you in the newspaper recently. You’re now an interior decorator? Really, John, I’m surprised at you.”

He bristled at her comments and tried to keep an even tone. “It’s home design, first of all. And surprised at what, exactly? That I took a chance on a new career, or that someone actually realized that I have talent beyond cars?”

“That you’d sell yourself out for some contest.”

His face turned warm and his heart rate sped up. “This is about more than just a contest, Ali. It’s about reinventing myself.”

“But to be paired with that criminal’s daughter?” She shook her head, the sleek blond bun on top of her head bobbing. “I guess I expected more of you.”

“You wouldn’t have left me if you had. You gave up on me long before this.” He glanced behind her. “Isn’t your newest acquisition here with you? He’s what? A lawyer or doctor? I heard you had traded up. Isn’t that the phrase you used?”

Her mouth tightened in a frown. “I thought we could be civil after all this time.”

It had been a year and a half. And she was the one who had left him blindsided, with little explanation but a whole lot of put-downs, like she was doing now. He didn’t feel the need to be friendly any longer. “As always, Alison, you thought wrong.”

Her mouth opened and then snapped shut, as if she were outraged yet speechless. She continued up the aisle to take a seat.

John knew there had been a chance that they would cross paths one day, but admittedly, he’d hoped that he would be coming off his latest triumph instead of starting his newest challenge. Still, what had he seen in Alison beyond the sleek exterior? At the moment, he came up with a very short list of admirable qualities. Thoughts of Cassie intruded, and he smiled. He wondered what she would have told Alison. Though she might not admit it, Cassie was a spitfire, unafraid to speak the truth. Underneath her casual T-shirts and jeans beat the heart of a woman who didn’t give up when things got tough.

He settled into his seat as the lecturer stood at the podium. Yes, coming to the seminar had been a great idea.






MUSCLES SHE DIDN’T remember having ached as Cassie entered Lucille’s Pizzeria to pick up dinner. The smell of garlic and cheese invited her inside as she pushed open the door. Sal, Lucille’s husband, was at the register and waved to her before handing change to the customer in front of him.

Although she didn’t need to read the menu, since she’d heard it hadn’t changed in the forty-plus years Lucille had been in business, Cassie perused the items before deciding on her usual. Waiting for Sal to finish with his customer, she glanced around the tiny front of the restaurant. Sal had wanted to expand the business to include those who preferred to dine in, but he’d been outvoted by his wife. Lucille insisted that you didn’t mess with success.

The customer left, and Cassie edged forward. “Hey, Sal. I’ll take the usual.”

“Large deep dish with double olives. Got it.” He wrote it on a slip and passed it through the window to the kitchen area. “You know, we’ve got a new app so that you can order ahead of time and it’s ready when you arrive.”

Since when had Lucille agreed to come into the twenty-first century? Probably one of her sons had convinced her. Still, nothing beat walking in and ordering her dinner with Sal. “But then we wouldn’t get a chance to chat.”

Sal chuckled and wiped down the counter with a damp cloth. “Heard you made it into that contest.”

“You saw that?”

“Everyone from the neighborhood is talking about it.” He paused and leaned on the counter. “You sure make us proud, girl.”

She huffed out a long breath. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. I still have a long way to go to win this contest.”

“But you are going to win and show those other fellows a thing or two.”

She kissed her fingertips and raised her hand to the ceiling. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

“Is that Cassie out there?” Lucille, a large woman in a pristine white apron, walked out of the kitchen and came around the counter to hug her. “I saw that double olive order and knew it had to be you. How are you doing?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer. Demolition would be finished the next morning if she had anything to say about it. And then the real work would begin. “Keeping busy, as always.”

“You going to show those other contractors who’s the boss?”

“That’s what I told her, Luce.”

Lucille smiled and nodded. “Real proud of you for not letting them get to you. For standing up straight and saying, �Here I am. Judge me for my work. Not for my father.’”

“But he’s still the first thing they think of when they see my name. It’s hard to get out from under his shadow.” And hard to accept that these two people on the perimeter of her life said the words she’d longed to hear from Daddy.

Sal joined Lucille, putting an arm around his wife’s waist. “You’re not under his shadow, love. The only one who thinks that is you. It’s time for you to be on your own.”

“And what if I can’t do it by myself?” This is what kept her awake at night. What if after all this she tried and failed? What if her success in the past had been her father all along, and not her own merits? She shook off their protests. “I know that I’m being hard on myself. But when have you known me not to be?”

Sal put his arms on her shoulders and kissed both her cheeks. “We’ve watched you grow from a little snot-nosed kid who only ate cheese pizza to the fine young woman you are, double olives and all. You may not be blood, but you’re family all the same.” They caught up on neighborhood business for several more minutes.

“Double olive pizza up,” someone shouted from the back, and a box of pizza slid through the window.

Cassie started to dig for her wallet, but Lucille waved her off. “Your money is no good here tonight, hon. But you listen to a piece of advice from Lucille. You’re only as good as you think you are.” She tapped Cassie on the shoulders. “You chew on that while you eat dinner.”

Cassie pulled out a $10 bill and stuffed it into the front pocket of Lucille’s apron. When the older woman protested, Cassie insisted. “For the advice.”

Cassie ruminated on what Lucille had said as she drove home and then guided Evie into the backyard. Inside the house, she placed the box of pizza on the kitchen counter and found a paper plate for her first slice. She pulled out a longneck beer from the refrigerator and claimed a seat at the card table by the window to eat dinner.

Outside, Evie chased a squirrel up a tree and barked up at it as it chattered back at her. Cassie smiled at the dog’s antics, knowing that Evie didn’t understand that the squirrel didn’t see her as a friend. All the squirrel could see was a big dog with big teeth and a loud bark.

What did Cassie see when she looked at her possibilities? She was probably more like the squirrel than she’d care to admit. The future that loomed before her looked just as scary, with big teeth and a loud bark, waiting to tear her apart. Okay, so she was being overly dramatic. But she was the type that saw the glass as empty rather than one that could be refilled.

As she ate her pizza, she thought over what Lucille had said. Her entire life had been spent with Daddy’s voice in her ears. If she brought home a B from school, why wasn’t it an A? If she retiled a bathroom, why hadn’t she done it faster?

What would it have cost her father to say he was proud of her? Proud of what she had done?

Her work for him had been scrutinized under the microscope of how it reflected on him. Her ideas and effort claimed by him. And she’d let him because he was her father and the owner of the company. Now that he wasn’t here, it fell on her shoulders. And what if it wasn’t good enough?






WITH DEMOLITION FINISHED by the first week, it was time for John to finalize the design ideas since they would determine the floor plan and flow of the layout. He invited Cassie and the Buttucci brothers after work Saturday night for dessert and coffee at his apartment to present his vision to the team. He glanced around the living room at the twenty-inch square foam boards he’d used to pin the design elements, including swatches of color and fabric. He hoped Cassie would approve.

A buzz at the intercom by the front door told him that his first guest had arrived. He pressed the button to speak. “Cassie?”

“Yep, it’s me.”

“I’m on the fourth floor. Four-o-eight.”

He pressed another button to unlock the front door of the apartment building, then waited a few minutes for her to make it to his floor. A soft knock on his door, and he opened it to find her standing alone. He looked behind her, but the hallway was empty. “No brothers tonight?”

“They’re tired. I told them to go home.”

He’d hoped for their input, but he could understand her concern for the guys. She passed by him, and he could smell the fresh floral scent of her shampoo. She must have showered before coming over. She walked to the first foam board, arms akimbo, and frowned at the design. He stepped in front of her to block her view. “You can see it all after dessert.”

She eyed him as if ready to argue but then acquiesced with a nod. He led her into the dining room, where he had set the apple pie, four plates and forks. “I’ve got ice cream if you’d like it à la mode.”

She took a seat in one of the chairs. “It’s been a long day, and I’d rather get this finished and go home to my bed.”

He put a piece of pie on a plate and handed it to her with a fork and spoon. “Coffee’s brewing. Just sugar, right?”

“Thanks.” She took a bite of the pie and moaned. “Is that caramel in the sauce? I’m dying.”

He placed the coffee in front of her. “I’m glad you like it. It’s my mom’s own recipe.”

She paused in her chewing and peered at the pie. After she swallowed, she asked, “You made this yourself?”

“You know I don’t cook. But I did ask my mom to make it for our evening.” He placed a slice of pie on his own plate and joined her at the table.

“If you want to bring one of these to the work site, I wouldn’t turn it away.”

He chuckled, and they ate in companionable silence. He pointed at her with his fork. “I know you’re not sold on the salvaging idea for the design yet, but by the end of the night you’ll be convinced.”

She paused in her eating and considered his words. “It’s not that I don’t like the idea, but I’m not confident it’s one that can win us the contest. Everything we do has to be top-notch. No room for error.”




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