Always the Last to Know(40)
Juliet sat in the conference room of DJK with Dave; Dave’s personal assistant, the ever-silent and slightly terrifying Laurie, who took notes at every meeting Dave ever had; and Arwen Alexander. That Arwen was here was . . . disturbing.
Dave had been Juliet’s boss since he hired her out of Yale. He wasn’t a bad boss, not by a long shot, but he had a way of letting her know how grateful she should be to work there. She hadn’t missed the extra time off, the more flexibility.
She’d taken all of three days off, thank you. The firm’s HR policy gave her three weeks of sick time, which included family illness. The last time Juliet had taken a sick day was four years ago, because, like their mother, the girls almost never got sick, having the immune systems of Greek deities. And when Juliet worked from home, she worked longer hours than if she were at the office, and she had the time sheets and productivity to prove it. But at the age of forty-three, she felt her worth to the company was something she shouldn’t have to prove. She’d been here almost seventeen years and worked on many billion-dollar buildings, delighting clients, leading teams, dealing with crises and labor issues, managing projects on time and sometimes even under budget, which, in the world of large-scale construction, was akin to calling Lazarus forth from his tomb.
Her work spoke for itself. Or it used to. In the past six months, there’d been a tremor in the Force. Lots of tremors, actually.
“So,” Dave said. He cleared his throat. “I think we’ll use this as an opportunity to give Arwen a little more responsibility. I’m putting her on the lead for the Hermanos headquarters.”
The tremor became a quake. The new home of a Fortune 500 company under Arwen’s lead? Why? Juliet was completely capable of doing her job.
“Absolutely. Anything I can do to help,” Arwen murmured.
“I appreciate that,” Juliet said, keeping her voice low and pleasant. “But I’m really fine. Totally in the game. Thanks just the same, Dave.”
“Let’s see how it goes. Great. Good meeting. I feel reassured. Again, anything you need. Anything at all. Thanks, Arwen, that’ll be all.”
Arwen put her hand over Juliet’s and gave it a quick squeeze. “I really am so sorry about your dad.” She left, leaving a hint of jasmine in the air. Even her perfume was gorgeous.
When the door closed, Juliet fixed Dave with a firm look. “I do not need Arwen taking over my responsibilities, Dave. I’m the project manager. She has her plate full already.”
“You know what? I think you’re right, but we’ll try this out just the same. It’ll be good for you. Good talk. I like that we’re thinking outside the box. Let’s circle back and see if we can move the needle on this project. Great! Good! We’re all on the same page. Give your mother my best.” He stood up, and Silent Laurie closed her laptop and trailed after him, but not before she gave Juliet a look that seemed to say, “Watch your back, sister.”
Juliet sat alone in the big room, Dave’s cliché business-speak ringing in her ears and the too-familiar waves of dread lapping at her feet.
Two years ago, Juliet had recruited Arwen to join DJK Architects. It had seemed so innocuous at the time.
Recruitment was part of Juliet’s job, unofficially . . . to keep an eye out for young talent, especially female talent. Not that anyone made extra time for her to do this—the partners had never said, “Juliet, take two days a month and dedicate them to finding young female architects so we don’t look so middle-aged white male around here, okay?”
It was just a given, since she was the highest-ranking woman at DJK, the only firm she’d ever worked for. The message was she was lucky to work here (and she was), so this would be paying it forward. Sure. She was happy to do it, frankly. There weren’t enough women in architecture, and she could help solve that in her corner of the industry. The firm was international, with branches in seven states and sixteen countries. Bringing in new perspectives was only going to help everyone, from the partners to the clients to the world, who’d get to see beautiful buildings designed by people from all backgrounds.
Arwen came to her attention because of her work at another firm. She’d been Architect II—basically responsible for daily design—on a hospital wing in Denver, and it was gorgeous and ahead of schedule. Her name was mentioned in a small article about the building, and Juliet did a little poking. UCLA undergrad, master’s at SCI-Arc, the Southern California Institute of Architecture. She had five years of experience on big projects.
Juliet did her thing: flew to San Diego, where the other firm was based, and took Arwen out to dinner while Oliver and the girls frolicked on the beaches and went to the botanical gardens. Arwen was sharp, good-natured and a little in awe of Juliet.
“I can’t believe Juliet Frost is taking me out for dinner,” she said the first night as they sat at Juniper & Ivy. “You’ve designed some of my favorite buildings ever. That hotel in Dubai? And the hospital in Cincinnati? Next level.”
But Arwen was happy at RennBore, she said. The weather in San Diego would be hard to beat. Why would she want to move to New Haven?
Game on. Juliet pitched her hard, extolling the loveliness of New Haven, the Yale School of Architecture, the proximity to New York and Boston, the beauty of the state with its many small towns and cities, the vibrant cultural scene (a bit of a stretch, but hey). Then it was onto salary and benefits packages, international opportunities, which would take Arwen years more at a huge firm like RennBore. Arwen considered it, and Juliet took her out again the next night to field any questions.