Page 17 of Let It Breathe
“Okay. The area you’ve staked out looks great. I don’t anticipate problems with excess rock or anything like that, and the permits should be pushed through by the end of today. We could break ground as soon as tomorrow.”
“What’s the bad news?”
Clay sighed. “As we spelled out in the bid, the materials estimates were based on market conditions and prices at the time of the bid. We gave that to you two months ago.”
“Has something changed?”
Clay nodded. “For starters, you’d planned to use wood certified by the Forest Stewardship Council for green building—that gives you the points you need for LEED certification.”
“Right. So what’s the problem?”
“FSC-certified wood just doubled in price in the last month.”
Reese stopped rolling the letter opener between her palms. “Oh.”
“It gets worse. The plan was to use recycled fly ash in the concrete so you get LEED points for that. But there’s been a recall after significant amounts of arsenic were found in a large shipment of fly ash from several big mines in Virginia. It’s tougher to get now, which means?—”
“Let me guess—the price has gone up?”
Clay nodded and handed her the stack of papers he’d been holding. Reese took them from him and studied the figures in silence, feeling sick. She looked back at Clay. “Why didn’t Dorrington Construction plan for this?”
Clay cleared his throat. “We did. There’s a contingency in the bid for shifts in market price. If you’d signed off on the estimate two months ago, we might have been able to purchase materials sooner, but?—”
“Things don’t move that quickly in a family-owned operation like this,” she said, swallowing back a surge of panic. “You know that. It took a lot of time to get our finances together, and then the whole family had to agree.”
The tension in her voice made her cringe, and Reese wasn’t sure if it was the result of grim news or how unsettled she felt having him so close after this many years. She was almost sure she could feel the heat of him from across the desk, could smell the wood shavings on his skin. The thought made her cheeks grow warmer.
“Look, we can alter the plans here,” Clay said. “If you want to change tracks and not go the green-building route, there are a lot of less expensive things we can do.”
Reese closed her eyes, feeling her head start to throb. “Not an option. Wine Spectator is doing a huge spread on Gold LEED certification. It’s been all over our website for months, and we’re holding a special Memorial Day event where we’ll be unveiling the model.”
“Right.”
“Environmental stewardship is the backbone of our branding on this whole project. This is Oregon—this is what wineries hang their hats on here.”
Clay nodded. “So you’re committed.”
Reese looked at him, gritting her teeth. “You mean I’m screwed.”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”
“Clay Henderson, missing the opportunity to say screwed in any context? That’s a first.” She grimaced at the waspish sound of her own voice and forced herself to take a few deep breaths before speaking again. “So now what? I don’t spearhead multimillion-dollar construction projects on a daily basis. What do I do now?”
He gave her a small smile, one that seemed to warm the brown pools of his eyes, and Reese felt her belly begin to liquefy. “The other pages I gave you outline different options,” he said. “Review the numbers, let us know if you want to change course.”
Reese frowned. “What if I want to ditch Dorrington Construction altogether and use a different builder? What then?”
“That would be unfortunate,” Clay said, stone-faced.
“That’s your professional assessment?”
He sighed, folding his hands on the desk. “That could get ugly. You’ve already signed the contracts, and I’m certain my employer will hold you to that.”
“Thank you for your candor.”
“No problem.”
She looked down at her hands, surprised to see them shaking. She clenched the letter opener tighter.
