Still Friends

Chapter 4: The Name on the Form

I was at the town library when the call came from the Harbor Preservation Board.

The board was reviewing a small grant application for the Mercer restaurant. The old building had survived two major storms and a decade of repairs made with whatever Eli's father could afford. Eli had applied for a grant to replace the sea-facing windows, reinforce the dining room floor, and keep the restaurant open through winter.

The board administrator, Janice Cole, asked whether I could verify some of the project details. I had helped Eli measure the windows years ago, before our engagement ended. I told her I was no longer involved.

There was a pause on the line.

"I'm sorry," Janice said. "The application lists you as project architect."

My stomach tightened. "It does what?"

"Your name is on the letter of commitment. The board thought you were coordinating the design work."

"I haven't agreed to do that."

Janice read me the sentence from the application. "'Nora Bell will lead design and oversee preservation compliance, with work completed in coordination with Mercer's Wharf.'"

I gripped the edge of the library desk. "I didn't write that."

"I'm not saying you did. The attached letter has your name typed at the bottom, but no signature. There's no question the application is incomplete."

"I'm glad you called."

"Mr. Mercer is scheduled to speak at the review meeting next week. I wanted to give you a chance to clarify before we proceed."

"Please hold my name off the application until I send you a formal statement."

"Of course."

I thanked her and ended the call. For a few seconds, I sat staring at the library's faded carpet.

Eli had used my name again.

He hadn't forged a signature, at least not according to Janice. But he had made the same assumption he'd made before: if he described our future as settled, the people around us would start treating it that way. Maybe he had reused a sentence from an older draft. Maybe he'd thought he could ask me after the board approved the grant. Maybe he'd convinced himself I would help because I always had.

None of those possibilities changed the fact that I had not agreed.

I called him from the steps outside the library.

"Did you list me as the lead architect on the restaurant grant?"

The line went quiet.

"Yes," he said.

"Did you think I'd agreed to that?"

"No. I thought you'd be willing to advise."

"You wrote that I would lead the design."

"I reused an old project description. I didn't mean to make it sound official."

"It is official. It's in an application you submitted."

"I know."

"Why didn't you ask me first?"

"I should have."

"That isn't an answer."

He took a breath. "Because I was trying to meet the deadline, and I knew you understood the building."

"So you decided my name was a resource you could use."

"No. That's not what I meant."

"It is what you did."

"I'll correct it. I'll call Janice."

"I'm already speaking with her. I'm sending a statement today."

"Are you trying to get the grant pulled?"

"I'm trying to make sure they don't believe I agreed to work on a project I'm not doing."

"Nora, my mom has kept that restaurant running for thirty years."

"I know."

"We need those windows."

"I know that too."

He said nothing for a moment.

"I don't want to hurt your family," I said. "But I'm not signing my name to something I didn't agree to."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"I do."

The conversation ended without either of us raising our voice. That made it worse.

I sat in my car and wrote the statement. I kept it factual. I had not agreed to serve as the project architect. I had not reviewed the application. I could not attest to the plans or budget. The board should evaluate the proposal without relying on my name or qualifications.

I read it twice, then sent it.

My hands were shaking when the confirmation arrived. A small, unreasonable part of me hoped Eli would call and say he'd made a mistake he could fix with an apology. Instead, he texted.

Eli: I'm sorry. I removed the wording and told the board I wrote it without your permission.

I stared at the message.

It was the right thing to do. It did not give me my name back in the first place.

I put my phone away and drove to the Lifeboat House. There was a final inspection to finish. I had no intention of letting the mess with Eli decide whether I could still do my own work.