Page 62 of Fighting Gravity

For once, a problem that did not belong to Tate. He pulled Quinn into an uncharacteristic hug. “He’s got you to help him. Are we good here? I have a meeting in Seattle. I’ll leave my car for you since I need the jet.”

She nodded against his chest. “See you Saturday.”

He waved to Gloria, who scowled back. Oh, Saturday was going to be fun.

It was gray in Seattle when he landed.

Tate knew the reputation for endless rain was overstated, especially in summer and fall. He’d just come on an off day, though he didn’t mind the gloom. Gray days were part of why he’d made his odd last-minute request to his contractor for the modular homeless housing. But only a small part.

He took an Uber from Boeing Field to his contractor’s office in Georgetown, the old brewery district in south Seattle. Wyatt was out in front of the small brick office, leaning against a branded work truck. He flashed Tate a grin he couldn’t help but return. “’Bout time, asshole.”

Tate had known they’d make good partners within the first few minutes of their first phone call. The man was no bullshit, easygoing, and had connections in all the places Tate needed them. They were close in age, and Wyatt was second generation in his family’s construction business.

“Are you crying over one hour? I’ll buy you a beer and we’ll call it even.”

Wyatt snorted. “Bro, you have no idea what prevailing wage is right now. You owe me a keg, not a beer.”

“I’d like to see you try to tackle a keg by yourself.”

Wyatt laughed as they climbed into the truck. “Won’t be alone. You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?”

“Guess not.” Tate would make it to his cabin eventually, even if somebody else was driving.

If they ever made it to a brewery in the current traffic. It took way too long to go the handful of miles to the edge of SoDo where the city had agreed to install the first set of houses.

They parked on an industrial street and hoofed it around the corner. Tate had expected a razed site ready for construction, similar to what had been done at OrbitAll as they’d broken ground for the hotel. The sight that greeted him was entirely unexpected. He gaped at Wyatt, who wore a wide grin. There were dozens of homes built already. And they were occupied.

“The permits were supposed to take eighteen months.”

Wyatt shrugged. “I went grassroots. Tracked down the neighborhood groups, contacted homeless advocacy organizations. We petitioned the city and got shit done.” He smirked at Tate. “I have to say, I thought you were fucking with me when you suggested that color, but it really works.”

Tate turned back to the rows of magenta tiny homes. He knew the bold color had been a strange request. But then he flicked his gaze to the sign at the entrance of what was now a neighborhood.Welcome to Rosy Row.

Rosy Row wasn’t just an homage to Rosie; it was her dream realized. And not just hers. There was a man lounging on a small wood porch closest to Tate. Another resident had installed pots of flowers to make a garden. Someone was flying a rainbow flag. A dog stretched and yawned on another porch further down.

A strange mix of emotions filled him. He had to clear his throat more than once. Tate hadn’t known Wyatt had done so much for the project. He hadn’t known how badly he’d want Rosie to be here for these small moments that were big moments for the people living there.

Tate took a few pictures, selecting them all so he could forward them to her. But he couldn’t bring himself to send them. Not yet.

“Wanna see the next one?”

Tate blinked at his contractor. “Are you serious? There’s more?”

Wyatt nodded, his perma-grin in place. “We’re building them all over SoDo. We’ve delivered ninety units so far.”

“Merde. I guess I do owe you a keg.”

36

Rosie left lunch on Friday smiling. Jeremy had arranged a meeting with a green developer they’d met at a networking function some weeks back. They were technically rivals, she and Jeremy, but he didn’t see it that way. Neither did the developer. Their firms shined in different areas and Amanda, the developer, had left with promises to reach out to them both soon.

Rosie was still smiling, even humming a little, when she entered Abode after the meeting.

“Grinning was my reaction, too,” Anne said from behind the desk. She did look uncharacteristically chipper.

“To what?”

“The photos Tate sent.”

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