Unfinished

Chapter Nine

Stacy

The contract was signed on a Thursday.

Maya cried.

Ruth screamed so loudly over the phone that I had to move it away from my ear.

And I stood in the middle of my office, staring at the confirmation email, wondering why I wasn’t doing either.

“You look like somebody just gave you bad news,” Maya said.

I looked up.

“We got it.”

“I know. I was standing right beside you when you opened the email.”

“No, Maya. We actually got it.”

She smiled.

“Yes, Stacy.”

I looked around the studio.

Two years ago, I’d been sitting at a secondhand desk, wondering how long my savings would last. I’d spent evenings calling potential clients who never called back and mornings pretending I wasn’t worried about paying rent.

Now my studio had been awarded a contract for one of Manhattan’s most ambitious residential developments.

I pressed my hands over my face.

“Oh my God.”

Maya laughed.

“Finally!”

I started laughing too.

She came around the desk and hugged me so tightly that I nearly dropped my phone.

“We did it,” she whispered.

I hugged her back.

“Yeah. We did.”

When she pulled away, her eyes were wet.

“Don’t start crying,” I warned.

“You’re already crying.”

“I’m not.”

“Stacy.”

I wiped my cheek.

“Shut up.”

She laughed and reached for the champagne she’d been guarding for days.

“Can we open this now?”

I glanced at the signed contract on my screen.

“Absolutely.”

⸻

By the time Jenny arrived, Maya had already taken approximately fifty photographs.

Most of them were terrible.

In one, my eyes were closed. In another, I looked like I was being held hostage by a champagne bottle.

Jenny examined the pictures and burst out laughing.

“Delete that one.”

“Which one?” Maya asked.

“All of them.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Jenny kissed my cheek.

“Congratulations, superstar.”

I smiled.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Would you prefer Your Majesty?”

“Much better.”

She handed me a small gift bag.

I frowned.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Inside was a leather notebook with my initials embossed in gold.

S.W.

I ran my fingers over the cover.

“Jen.”

“Turn to the first page.”

I opened it.

In Jenny’s handwriting were the words:

For every idea they told you was too big.

Keep proving yourself right.

Love, Jenny.

My throat tightened.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to.”

I looked at her.

“You remember?”

“Of course I remember.”

When I’d first told our parents I wanted to open my own design studio, Dad had called it an expensive experiment.

Jenny had been the one who helped me look at office spaces.

She’d spent an entire Saturday driving around Manhattan with me, eating terrible sandwiches and pretending not to notice when I became discouraged.

When I finally found the Chelsea studio, she’d bought me a cheap notebook from a stationery store.

For your big ideas, she’d written inside.

I’d filled every page.

I closed the new notebook carefully.

“Thank you.”

Jenny smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

Then she looked toward Maya.

“Now, where’s the champagne?”

⸻

My father called just as we were preparing to leave for dinner.

I answered reluctantly.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Stacy.”

His voice was as formal as ever.

“I understand your studio secured the Voss development contract.”

I glanced at Jenny.

“Yes. We signed today.”

“Congratulations.”

I blinked.

“Thank you.”

“It’s a significant opportunity.”

“It is.”

“Make sure you don’t waste it.”

I stared at the wall.

Of course.

“I don’t intend to.”

“Voss Development has a reputation to maintain. They won’t tolerate mistakes.”

“I’m aware.”

“Your mother tells me you’re celebrating tonight.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t let the excitement distract you from the responsibility.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

“Dad, I understand.”

“Good.”

There was a pause.

Then he said, “We’ll speak soon.”

The call ended.

I lowered the phone.

Jenny was watching me.

“Let me guess,” she said. “Congratulations followed by a warning?”

I laughed without much humor.

“Almost word for word.”

She sighed.

“He could’ve just said he was proud.”

“Apparently, that’s against company policy.”

Jenny took my hand.

“Well, I am.”

I squeezed her fingers.

“That makes two of us.”

“Three,” Maya called from across the room.

We laughed.

I slipped my phone into my bag.

Tonight, I wasn’t going to let my father’s opinion ruin anything.

⸻

The following Monday, I walked into Voss Development as the lead designer for the project.

It felt different.

Not because the building had changed, but because I no longer had to wonder whether I belonged there.

I had a contract.

My studio’s name was on it.

And I’d earned my place.

Samuel greeted me near the elevators.

“Good morning, Stacy.”

“Morning.”

“Congratulations again.”

“Thank you.”

“Ready for your first official project meeting?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He smiled.

“Good. Because Mr. Voss has already asked for you twice.”

I stopped.

“Why?”

“Something about the revised reception drawings.”

I sighed.

“Of course.”

Samuel laughed.

“Welcome to Voss Development.”

He led me upstairs.

The conference room was already occupied when we arrived.

Nelson sat at the head of the table, reviewing a set of drawings. Beside him was a woman in her early forties with dark hair pulled into a neat bun and an expression that suggested she had very little patience for nonsense.

Nelson looked up.

“Stacy.”

“Nelson.”

He gestured toward the woman.

“This is Evelyn Hayes, our development director.”

Evelyn stood and offered her hand.

“Good to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your proposal.”

“Hopefully good things.”

She smiled.

“Mostly.”

I glanced at Nelson.

He looked entirely innocent.

Suspicious.

I shook Evelyn’s hand.

“I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise. Your revised dining-room concept was one of the strongest parts of the final presentation.”

“Thank you.”

We sat.

Nelson slid a set of drawings toward me.

“We have an issue.”

I looked at the pages.

“Oh,hello there.”

Evelyn coughed.

Samuel suddenly looked down at his notes.

Nelson ignored them.

“The engineering team has adjusted the service access behind the reception area.”

I studied the drawings.

“Why?”

“Updated fire-safety requirements.”

I leaned forward.

The change wasn’t enormous, but it affected the wall we’d planned to use for a custom installation.

I traced the new access route with my finger.

“This cuts directly through the feature wall.”

“Yes.”

“And nobody thought to mention it before we finalized the design?”

“The change was approved late last week,” Evelyn explained. “We received the updated drawings this morning.”

I exhaled.

“All right.”

Nelson watched me.

“Can you work around it?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

I looked up.

“I haven’t even had time to examine the dimensions properly.”

“Fair.”

I studied the plan again.

We could shift the installation.

But that would throw off the balance of the reception area.

Unless—

I turned the drawing sideways.

“What if we stop treating the access panel as something to hide?”

Evelyn leaned closer.

“What do you mean?”

“We could redesign the wall with a series of vertical panels. The service access becomes part of the rhythm instead of an awkward interruption.”

I sketched a rough arrangement.

“Same material family, different spacing. The access panel stays functional, but visually it blends into the composition.”

Evelyn nodded slowly.

“That could work.”

Nelson studied the sketch.

“What happens to the lighting?”

“We integrate it between the panels rather than above the installation.”

“Cost?”

“Too early to give you a reliable figure.”

He raised an eyebrow.

I met his gaze.

“I’m not inventing a number just to make you happy.”

Evelyn smiled into her coffee.

Nelson leaned back.

“Get me an estimate once you’ve checked the specifications.”

“I will.”

He nodded.

“Good.”

I looked at the drawing again.

The solution wasn’t finished, but it had potential.

And for once, Nelson hadn’t turned the discussion into a competition.

Maybe we’d both learned something.

⸻

The meeting continued for another hour.

Evelyn walked me through the construction schedule, explaining which areas would become available for interior work first.

Samuel reviewed the approval procedures and introduced me to the project coordinator.

By the end, my notebook was filled with tasks.

Material samples.

Supplier confirmations.

Updated drawings.

Site inspections.

A meeting with the lighting consultant.

It was a lot.

But it was exactly the kind of work I’d wanted.

As everyone began gathering their things, Evelyn turned to me.

“Stacy, do you have a moment?”

“Of course.”

She waited until Samuel left.

Nelson remained by the window, speaking quietly on his phone.

Evelyn lowered her voice.

“I wanted to tell you something.”

I looked at her.

“Okay.”

“Your proposal wasn’t the easiest choice for the committee.”

I smiled faintly.

“I gathered that.”

“Some members were concerned about your studio’s size.”

“I understand.”

“But your work was strong, and your delivery plan addressed the risks better than some of the larger firms.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded.

“Don’t feel you have to prove everything in your first week. Ask questions when you need to. That’s why we have a project team.”

I was surprised by the advice.

“That’s good to hear.”

She smiled.

“I’ve seen talented designers make themselves miserable trying to appear completely in control. It’s unnecessary.”

I laughed softly.

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good.”

She gathered her documents.

“And welcome aboard.”

After she left, I stood looking at the drawings.

I liked her.

She was direct without being dismissive.

And she seemed genuinely interested in making the project work.

“You’re smiling.”

I turned.

Nelson had finished his call.

“Am I not allowed?”

“Depends. Should I be concerned?”

“Only if you’re planning to change the drawings again.”

He glanced at the plans.

“No promises.”

I shook my head.

He approached the table.

“Evelyn likes you.”

“How can you tell?”

“She doesn’t usually give advice to people she thinks are incompetent.”

“That’s comforting.”

“She’s also the person most likely to tell me when I’m wrong.”

I looked at him.

“That must keep her busy.”

He smiled.

“Occasionally.”

I laughed.

Then I began putting my things into my bag.

“Stacy.”

I looked up.

“Yes?”

“Good work today.”

I paused.

“Thank you.”

He nodded toward the drawings.

“The panel solution was smart.”

“You’re complimenting me twice in one week. Should I call someone?”

“Don’t ruin it.”

I grinned.

He shook his head, but his expression softened.

For a moment, neither of us said anything.

Then his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

“My father.”

I stepped back.

“I should go.”

He answered the call as I headed toward the door.

I was almost outside when I heard him speak.

“No, Father. The contract is signed.”

I stopped for half a second.

His voice hardened.

“Because the decision was mine to make.”

I continued walking.

Whatever disagreement he was having with his father wasn’t my business.

I had enough family problems of my own.

⸻

That evening, Jenny called while I was reviewing the day’s notes.

“How was your first day?”

“Busy.”

“Good busy or terrible busy?”

“Both.”

She laughed.

“Sounds promising.”

I told her about Evelyn, the revised drawings, and the mountain of work waiting for me.

Jenny listened patiently.

Then she said, “You sound happy.”

I smiled.

“I am.”

“Good.”

“What about you? How was your day?”

“Nothing exciting. Meetings, errands, the usual.”

“Are you coming over this weekend?”

“Probably. Why?”

“I was thinking we could cook something.”

Jenny laughed.

“You? Cook?”

“Excuse me?”

“Last time you cooked, you almost set off the smoke alarm.”

“That was one time.”

“It was pasta, Stacy.”

“The pot was defective.”

She laughed harder.

“Fine. I’ll come over. But I’m supervising.”

“Control freak.”

“Love you too.”

I smiled.

“Love you.”

After we hung up, I returned to my notes.

My phone buzzed with a new email.

From: Nelson Voss

Subject: Reception Area

Stacy,

Evelyn has approved the preliminary direction for the revised feature wall. Send the updated drawings when they’re ready.

Also, the lighting adjustment you suggested should be reviewed with our consultant before procurement begins.

Nelson

I read it twice.

Then I typed my response.

Nelson,

I’ll coordinate with the lighting consultant and send the updated drawings once we’ve confirmed the specifications.

And thank you for not asking me to produce a cost estimate before I’d seen the measurements.

Stacy

His reply arrived a few minutes later.

Don’t get comfortable. I’ll ask tomorrow.

I laughed.

Then I closed my laptop.

For once, I was looking forward to going back to work.

Not because of Nelson.

Not entirely, anyway.

I caught myself smiling and shook my head.

Whatever this was, it could wait.

I had a building to design.

And a future to build.

One that belonged to me.