Daisys decision, p.3
Daisy's Decision, page 3
Ken could remember details, owners’ names, budgets, and contractors under each contract with ease. He could get all of these reports in writing, which would aid him in the details. However, his brother Brad, the president of Dixon Contracting and Design, insisted that every department hold monthly status report meetings on set days the last week of every month. Department heads staggered the times of the meetings so that Brad could attend them all.
He looked at Ian Jones, one of the mechanical engineers employed by the company, and said, “I guess we should get the bad news out of the way first. Talk to me about the HVAC issues with the HUD complex in Albany.”
Ian nodded and tapped the screen on his tablet, accessing the appropriate file. An email appeared on the screen behind him. “The owner’s project manager insists that the HVAC is coming in about fifty percent higher than what he budgeted. All the value engineering I can do will only bring it down about twenty percent. I don’t know where he got his numbers or if he just underestimated the size of unit needed. I haven’t met with him yet, but I’ll be in Albany next Thursday. I want to meet with him in person.”
Ken nodded. “Want some company?”
Ian shrugged. “I don’t think we need it escalated to the point of having a Dixon present yet, but I can call you on my way back from Albany and let you know how it went.”
Ken looked at his agenda and made a checkmark next to Albany. “Good enough. Let’s see what’s next.”
An hour later, he headed out of the conference room into the sanctuary of his office. His assistant, Toby MacDonald, sat at the desk in front of Ken’s office door. “That’s done for another month,” he said as he walked past Toby’s desk.
Toby had attended Ken’s family church as a high school student. He’d come to a youth gathering his freshman year with a girlfriend and had fallen in love with the community. Toby approached Ken one night as he prepared for his high school graduation and told him he longed to become a mechanical engineer but had no means for school. He had asked if Dixon contracting had any kind of tuition assistance for employees.
Three years later, Toby had marked the halfway point through school. Ken had never had a more efficient assistant and enjoyed the fact that Toby didn’t feel any need to engage in chit-chat. Every blissfully short conversation they shared came with a point. Ken had also never met a more detail-oriented person and knew he would make a phenomenal engineer when he graduated. Toby had signed a five-year contract beginning upon graduation to repay his tuition assistance. He knew the young man would become nothing less than an asset to their engineering division.
“Cool. Don’t forget your lunch appointment,” Toby said.
“Right. The local charity. What’s the name again?”
Toby nodded once, sharply. “Gálatas Seis. I think this might be a one-on-one with their director, but I don’t know for sure. Their director of fundraising reached out to you through a contact at Samaritan’s Purse.”
As a rule, Ken prioritized charitable work. Toby knew it. “Did you email me the address?”
“Texted. And I gave you an extra hour in your day. Oh, and don’t forget I have the first day of the summer semester at three today.”
“Right. Have a good first day.” Ken turned to enter his office but then paused and turned back to his assistant. “Your mom take a first day of school picture?”
Ken thought that if he didn’t have such dark skin, he would’ve seen the flush that certainly covered Toby’s cheeks. “Come on, man.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of mothers, your mom had me clear your morning through early afternoon tomorrow. I backed your first appointment up to two.”
Ken nodded and went into his office, letting the door shut behind him. He pulled his phone out of his desk drawer and turned it on. Immediately, a text from his mom appeared. Today, his brother Jon came home from a two-year project he had worked on in Nashville, and she wanted everyone at Ken’s lake house tomorrow for family fishing and lunch in lieu of the regular Wednesday night family dinner.
He chuckled, realizing his mother planned for him to host the family tomorrow, whether he’d known about it or not. After sending a reply that he would see them tomorrow, he spent the next hour updating all of his personal reporting with the information he had received in the meeting today. Once he finished compiling his notes, he opened the file on his personal project. For the last two years, he and Brad had completely remodeled and renovated an old apartment complex built in the seventies. They neared the end of the project and had a buyer interested in purchasing it. After running all the final numbers, he realized they would make about thirty percent more than their original investment. Not bad if you didn’t count the thousands of hours they put into physical labor in the remodel. Even after supplies and contractors, they still made a hefty profit.
He picked up the phone and dialed his brother’s extension. Brad’s assistant Sami picked up on the first ring. “Brad Dixon’s office.”
“Hey, Sami. Ken. Is my brother there?”
“Sure thing.”
The hold music barely started when Brad picked up. “Hey.”
“Hey. I emailed you an offer we got on the apartments. The owner met our asking price.” Brad whistled in his ear. “Yeah. That’s about what I said. I’m going to accept it, but it’s still a contingent offer since we still have one more unit to finish.”
“We can finish that in two weeks.”
“Yep.” He looked at his watch and stood. “I’m on my way to meet up with that local charity. They’re looking for someone to sponsor a build-a-house-in-a-day thing.”
“Well, that’s a meeting you’ll enjoy.”
“Can I speak on behalf of us, or just me?”
“Get me the numbers, but I’m confident Dixon Contracting can do it. Jon and I can swing hammers at the very least.”
Their parents had raised them to make missions work a priority in their lives. They went on an annual mission trip for several weeks a year, always picking different locations around the world. On a local level, they contributed to their community through their church and other charitable organizations. Ken knew a good portion of that came from his own personal convictions and the way he pressed his brothers to participate. He also knew that they didn’t mind. “Hopefully, I’ll come out of this meeting with all the details.”
“Great.”
On his way out, he stopped at Toby’s desk. “Forward my office extension to my cell and pass any need-be items straight to me. You enjoy that first day of school. See you in the morning.”
“Thanks. See you,” Toby said, picking up the ringing phone. “Ken Dixon’s office,” he said. Ken didn’t stick around.
The directions took him to a strip mall anchored to a chain grocery store. He checked the suite number and found the sign for Gálatas Seis centered between a family dentist and a take-out Chinese restaurant.
When he walked in the door, a young woman in her twenties with mousy brown hair and big blue eyes greeted him. As he came through the door, she paused typing on her keyboard and turned her chair to face him completely. “How may I help you?”
“Ken Dixon with Dixon Contracting. I have an appointment with someone here today.”
She raised both eyebrows and asked, “Do you know with whom?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. No. Didn’t make the appointment. Your fundraising department contacted us through another ministry.”
Just then, a woman came around a partition. She had rich black hair, dark brown eyes, and skin the color of warm caramel. She wore a bright red sleeveless top and white Capri pants. “Bev, Irene just sent me a message that she set up a…”
She stopped in her tracks and stared up at him. “Ken? Ken Dixon?”
Hearing his name threw him. She could have recognized him from any number of events that would put her ministry in his path, but no one could tell him apart from his brothers except their mother and Brad’s wife. Maybe she saw his name on an appointment calendar. That would make sense. “Yep. Ken Dixon.”
He extended his hand, and she hesitated only slightly before placing hers in his. “Wow. Ken! Oh, my goodness. Ken Dixon. I haven’t seen you since high school.”
Keeping her hand in his, he stared into her brown eyes and tried to place her. Something about her felt very familiar; something about her voice, the shape of her chin, and the name of this place. Finally, a spark went off in his mind. “Daisy? Daisy Ruiz?”
He grinned. She had practically grown up with him. He spent many, many hours in her basement with her older brother Diego and their father. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the name. Gálatas Seis. This was, what? Your grandparents’? Didn’t your grandfather start this?”
When she pulled her hand from his, he realized he’d still held it. She nodded and smiled a smile that filled the room with light. “Yes! Twenty years ago. I’ve taken over the position of Executive Director for the last year now.”
A slow smile covered his face. “That is amazing. It’s so good to see you.” He gestured at the woman she had called Bev. “I was just telling Bev, here, I had a meeting today but didn’t know who with.”
She held up her phone. “That’s so funny. I had a message that Irene had set up a meeting, but I didn’t know who with.” She laughed. “Well, follow me.”
She took him around the partition. He could make out three different workspaces, all partitioned off. She gestured to the door, and he followed her into a break room with a small table and three chairs.
“How did you get into doing this?”
She opened a cupboard and grabbed a folder. “My grandparents agreed to pay for my law school with the understanding that I would take over the charity for five years once I passed the bar. So, here I am.”
“Passed the bar?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m a real-life lawyer.”
“Wow.” Ken could not stop smiling. “How many people do you have working for you here?”
“Well, lots. But many are volunteers. Bev out there is part-time. Irene and I are the only full-time employees. She handles fundraising. I take care of the legalities of everything we’re doing and set up all of our projects. We have an executive board that meets monthly and chooses our projects.”
She set the folder in front of him, pulled the chair out, and sat down across from him. He glanced at the press kit but didn’t study it. “My message was that this was to help you with a build a house-in-a-day project.”
“Oh. The message I had wasn’t detailed. We are looking for sponsors who can help with the materials and equipment needed to build a house on Labor Day weekend. We have a family of six that are in deplorable conditions and had a major contributor pull the funding kind of at the last minute.”
He watched her facial expression and saw the discomfort around her mouth and eyes. He was tempted to dig into the reasons why this particular sponsor made her so uncomfortable but thought he should probably stay on task.
She smelled very good.
He tried to drag his brain back to the topic of conversation. “What are the project specifics?”
“We’re scrambling to get sponsors. But this is so last minute. We’re just a couple months away.” She pulled out her phone and swiped at the screen, then read off the numbers for equipment and supplies.
The numbers sounded very low to Ken. “Are you getting special deals through the suppliers and equipment rental places?”
She nodded. “We work hard to minimize cost. We use a lot of recovered materials from demolition sites. Like, a lot. Most places sell us new materials at a fraction above cost. This is a charitable donation for them. We worked with several of these places for years.”
Ken crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair. He liked the way she let everything she felt show on her face. He found that incredibly refreshing. He didn’t want this meeting to end. He wanted to keep talking to this woman. Before he could talk himself out of it, he said, “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
She gasped. Her eyes widened, and she sat back almost as if pushed by force. “I, uhh…”
Disappointment crept along the back of his neck. “Sorry. You’re seeing someone.”
“Uh…” Daisy opened and closed her mouth as if she didn’t know what to say.
“Course you are. Look at you. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, and half chuckled. “No.”
“‘No,’ you’re not beautiful? Don’t start a fight with me, here, Daisy.” He could hardly stop looking at her lips.
“No. I mean, I’m not seeing anyone.”
Ken felt every molecule of air that filled his lungs. “Good. Dinner it is.”
“Ken, I just don’t think…”
“Good. Thinking gets in the way of good things sometimes. Have dinner with me, Daisy. I can tell you want to.”
He was teasing, of course. He could tell she didn’t want to. But he wanted to for the first time in his life. Finally, she said, “Okay. Sure. I’ll have dinner with you tomorrow night.”
“That’s great. Can’t wait.” He grinned and tapped the folder. “As for your project, consider your cost met. Dixon Contracting and Design will fully fund this project.”
She sucked in a breath and asked, “Fully?”
He nodded, enjoying the look on her face. He felt like he could sit and talk to her all day long. But he really, desperately wanted to escape so he could analyze these strange feelings he had from the moment she came out from behind the partition. He stood and asked, “Pick you up at seven?”
She nodded. “Yeah, sure. Seven is great.” She stood as well. “I suppose you need my address.”
For what seemed like the millionth time, Daisy stared at herself in the mirror and asked out loud, “What are you doing?”
In answer, the reflection of herself wearing the little black dress with the red embroidered roses along the hem and the clunky red beaded necklace looked down at her from the mountaintop and answered, “Going to dinner with the man of my dreams.”
As she turned away from the mirror, she picked up her black beaded clutch purse and slipped her cell phone and a tube of red lipstick inside it. “And, we know we’re pregnant. Yes. That has been established for a solid week now. But come on. It’s Ken Dixon. What will it hurt to go on one little date?”
Before she could answer herself and explain to her reflection exactly all the ways it could hurt—again—the doorbell rang. It pulled her out of the conversation and brought her back into a place of reality. Not only did the doorbell ring, but Ken Dixon stood on her front porch waiting to take her on a date. Giddy excited butterflies had sprung loose in her stomach. She could not even contain herself over the idea of this dream come true.
She soared over the peak of the mountain and opened the door. He stood there with his wavy brown hair, gray eyes that cut right through her, wearing a blue button-down shirt open at the collar, and a pair of gray slacks. “Hi,” she said on a breath. “Did you have any problem finding the place?”
She stepped back and gestured for him to come inside. He slipped his hands into his pockets and stepped across the threshold. “No. Actually think I used to own this building.”
Confused, she asked, “What?”
He looked at the ceiling and the hall closet door and nodded. “Pretty sure I built it and all these townhouses on the street. Don’t remember if we sold them or if we’re renting them out.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you rent, or do you own?”
She tilted her head to study his face. “I rent it.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “Do you pay Mason-Dixon?”
“Mason-Dixon?”
“Mason-Dixon Realty management. That’s our branch of property leasing. My brothers and I build a lot of properties as investments. We either sell them immediately or hand them over to the rental division. I just can’t remember what we did with this building.”
“I don’t pay Mason-Dixon Realty.” This line of conversation confused her and threw her off her game. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soda?”
“No, thanks.” He glanced around her living room. She had wood floors stained black and accented them with a black rug covered in red, yellow, and turquoise flowers. Her television sat on a low bright pink table that ran the length of one wall. It matched her pink coffee table and brought out the pink flowers on the black throw pillows on her yellow couch. Through the doorway, he could see the turquoise wall of her dining room. “Good colors. Makes the room feel bigger. Brighter.”
It shouldn’t have pleased her so much to get his approval of her style. “Thank you. It’s a gradual work-in-progress. I tend to do most of my shopping at flea markets.”
He looked at his watch. “We have reservations at seven-thirty if you’re ready to go.”
She grabbed the red shawl she had tossed onto the back of her chair and said, “I’m ready.”
He led the way out of her house. She paused to lock the door, then followed him to his pickup truck. As he opened the door, he stopped her. “Sorry. I get a little too far inside my head sometimes. That wasn’t the best start of a date.”
This close to him, she could smell his aftershave, the spicy fragrance that brought images of cowboys and the wild west to her mind. It suited him. “I don’t think you should apologize. It’s kind of neat that I live in a house you built.”
His smile came quick and made her heart kick it up a notch. “Appreciate that.” He gestured to the interior of the truck. “Your carriage awaits.”
Using the step on the side of the truck, she climbed into the spotless cab. She could smell leather cleaner mixed with glass cleaner and felt a warm rush of emotion at the thought that he’d cleaned his truck before coming to get her.
As they drove into downtown Atlanta, they chatted about her brother. “Diego has his own church now down in Panama City.”
Ken nodded. “I know. When we went down to Florida after the hurricane a couple of years ago, we partnered with his church.”
