“Poofy?”
She reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, turning to hand it to him. “Yeah, you know, poofy. Overpriced. Stuffy. The kind of place where people go to be seen or to have business luncheons that they use as tax write-offs. But the food isn’t very good, or if it is, it’s horribly overpriced. I’d so much rather eat at home or go to a place like the Italian restaurant we were at the other evening.”
Bill’s words came back to him, and he was curious. “Do you have to have a lot of business luncheons?”
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Not a lot. I can’t see wasting money like that. It took a long time to build my business up, and I always have an eye for the bottom line.”
Finding out that she had to watch her spending while building her business had him curious and wanting to know more, especially since that went against what others assumed. “How long have you been in business?” Her eyes sparkled even more, and he could tell he’d hit on a subject near and dear to her heart.
“My senior year of college, I had an internship with an interior design company based out of Philadelphia. They had offices all over the United States and were even branching into Europe. My father kept wanting me to come back to Hope City where he could utilize me in his company. That held no appeal.” As the oven’s beeper sounded, she grabbed two potholders and bent to open the oven door.
Rory’s brain short-circuited at the sight of her ass in her yoga pants. She set the casserole dish on top of the stove and continued to talk, although it took a moment for his brain to catch up.
“But my grandmother was ill, and I wanted to spend time with her. So, I moved back to Hope City, but much to my father’s chagrin, I refused to work for his company or take his handouts.” She dropped the potholders onto the counter next to her and turned to face him, leaning her hip against the counter. Taking a sip of wine, she smiled.
“Don’t get me wrong. I know that my father sent a few of his cronies my way to have me design new office spaces for them. I’m not completely stupid, and I accepted some of their contracts. But I wanted my own business. I wanted to do things my way and make my own money.” Grinning widely, she threw her arms out to the side. “Hence, Carmichael Designs was born!”
“Wow, I’m impressed.”
“Well, it took a while before I could make a down payment on this place.” She wrinkled her brow as she looked around. “It’s not my forever home, but it was in a decent area, and I could afford it. Sometimes, I wondered if I bought it just to drive my father crazy, but I really do like it.”
Soon, they sat at her small table, plates piled high with homemade chicken pot pie, fresh rolls, salad, and if the lemon meringue pie on the counter was any indication, dessert would follow.
“So, you ate at a poofy restaurant for lunch?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I had a working lunch with Anthony Partridge. I was trying to get him to take more of an active role in having someone check over the electrical contractor’s work, but he’s focused on getting the building completed on time and under budget to impress his father.”
Sandy’s forthcoming comments about her lunch made him even more irritated at Bill’s insinuations, but he was thrilled she was talking to him about what was going on in her life.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I talked to Blay before coming here. I was just curious about what an electrical fire might do to a building like Partridge Tower.”
Swallowing, she nodded. “That’s what I tried to impress upon Anthony at lunch, but he’s not listening to me.” She shrugged and sighed. “I’m going to mention it again to the main contractor, and then I don’t know what else to do.”
“Blay said that there were different electrical codes for buildings over seventy-five feet tall.”
“Really? Let’s see what we can find out after dessert.”
They finished the meal, topped off with a slice of delicious sweet and tart pie that would rival his mom’s. Leaving the dishes, they walked into the living room and settled onto the sofa together while she grabbed her laptop. Quickly Googling, she immediately found information.
“You’re right. Tall buildings require different electrical systems as well as fire alarm systems.”
Leaning over her shoulder to peer at the screen, he asked, “Is that for a particular area or everyone?”
“It says it’s according to the International Building Code in the Building Construction and Safety Code. They define high-rise buildings as seventy-five feet or greater in height. And that’s measured from the lowest level of fire department vehicle access to the floor of the highest occupiable story.” She turned and looked at him. “Without a doubt, Partridge Tower falls under that definition.”
Turning back to the screen, she shook her head slowly. “A lot of this is electrical jargon that I don’t understand. But here’s something that makes sense. There has to be a fire alarm system that incorporates firefighter telephones, fire department radio systems, smoke control, door control, and HVAC damper control. Plus, there’s a whole bunch of other things as well.”
Still looking over her shoulder, he pointed to the screen. “Look here. It says that before bidding, contractors must ensure that the estimator and bidder understand the requirements for the alarm and electrical systems. That would mean that Perkins Electrical Company understands what they’re doing and made an appropriate bid and will do the work according to the code.”
“Yes, if they’re doing things the right way.”
She pinched her lips together for a moment, and he battled the urge to lean forward and kiss her tension away. She closed her laptop and placed it on the
