Chapter 109 Let's Begin
Chapter 109 Let's Begin
The main building of Marrow Industries stood six stories tall, looming over the street with its facade of endless glass. The company name stretched across the entrance in broad silver letters, polished so clean they almost glowed. I’d been here before, once with Ellie, and once when John gave me the tour after offering me the position. But stepping through those doors as an employee was something new entirely.
People greeted John as soon as we entered, their voices echoing off marble and glass.
“Morning, Mr. Marrow.” “Good morning, John.” “Sir, I’ve got those contracts ready for you.”
He answered each one by name, not missing a beat. I caught a few curious glances. Most people tried not to make it obvious, but I felt their questions anyway.
Who’s that with John? Why’s he here? Does he belong?
The elevator doors slid open. John stepped inside, and I followed, hands jammed in my pockets.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Everyone knows you.”
He gave a wry smile. “I own the company.”
“Right,” I said, my eyes on the glowing numbers. “I think that makes it worse.”
He chuckled. “We’re heading to the fourth floor. Estimating and Project Development. It’s busy. Phones, meetings, people moving around. Don’t let it get to you.”
“Easy for you to say.”
He shook his head. “Not really. My first day here, I was twenty-four. The company was half this size. My father put me in charge of a project I had no business leading.”
“What happened?”
“I nearly lost us seventy thousand dollars.”
I stared at him. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. My dad made me break down exactly where I went wrong, then made me fix it.” He smiled at the memory.
The elevator chimed, and John gestured for me to step out first.
The fourth floor buzzed with energy. Offices lined the walls, and a sprawling open workspace filled the center. Monitors flashed spreadsheets, schedules, and digital blueprints. Rolled plans stood in racks. People hurried past each other, balancing coffee and folders, making calls, answering questions about steel pricing without looking up.
My pulse raced.
John leaned in. “Remember, lots of names, lots of faces. You won’t get them all today.”
I nodded, swallowing hard.
Then a voice cut across the room. “You’re early.”
Frank stood at a conference table, sleeves rolled up, tie already loosened. His gray hair was neatly combed, but his posture was relaxed, at ease in the chaos. I glanced at the clock.
“We’re five minutes early,” I said.
Frank grinned at John. “He’ll do.”
John smiled back. “Told you.”
Frank motioned me over. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you set up.”
John started to follow, but a woman intercepted him, tablet in hand. “Mr. Marrow, the Cleveland proposal needs your approval before nine.”
He sighed. “Of course it does.” He shot me a look, not just as my boss, but something else, too. He gave a small nod, then followed her down the hall.
Frank watched him go. “He’s nervous too, you know.”
I raised an eyebrow. “John?”
He started gathering folders. “You’re his daughter’s boyfriend. You’re living in his house. You’re raising a kid. Now you’re working here. Of course he’s nervous.”
“I thought he believed I could do this.”
“He does. That’s why he’s nervous.” Frank handed me a stack of folders. “People don’t worry about things they don’t care about.”
He started walking, and I hurried after him. He introduced me to more people than I could possibly remember. Melissa in preconstruction, Aaron in procurement, David in scheduling, Tanya in accounting, Greg in commercial development. By the sixth introduction, the names blurred together.
Frank must have noticed. He leaned in. “Don’t panic. I’ve worked with Greg for twelve years and still call him Gary at least once a month.”
The man beside us looked up. “My name is Garrett.”
Frank pointed at him. “See?”
Garrett shook his head, but I laughed, the knot in my chest loosening a little.
Frank led me to a glass-walled office at the back. Two monitors waited on the desk, along with a fresh notebook. A nameplate sat near the edge:
JAXON REED
I stopped, staring at it.
“Problem?” Frank asked.
I touched the edge. “No. It’s just… my name.” Something simple, but it meant I belonged, at least enough for someone to put my name on a desk.
Frank set the folders down. “This is your workspace. You’ll spend the next few months attached to my side.”
“Lucky me,” I said.
He smirked. “That attitude will serve you well.”
He pulled up a chair beside me and flipped open the first folder. It was construction plans, not for a house, but a community center. Pages of lines, symbols, measurements, notes I barely recognized.
He spread the blueprint across the desk. “Remember what I told you estimating involves?”
“Blueprints. Project planning. Bidding. Logistics. Material and labor costs.”
He nodded. “Good. Everything starts here.” He pointed to the plans. I stared at the lines. They could’ve been in another language.
“I don’t know what any of this means,” I admitted.
“You’re not supposed to. Not yet.” He handed me an architect’s scale. “This tells you the scale of the drawing, how the lines here relate to real life.”
He guided my hand to the edge of the page. “We start with measurements. Then symbols. Then plan sections. After that, materials. Once you know what the building needs, we’ll talk cost.”
“And after cost?”
“Bidding.”
“And after bidding?”
“Planning.”
“And after planning?”
“Logistics.” Frank smiled. “And when you get through all that, you’ll finally leave the building and realize the field doesn’t care what looked perfect on paper.”
I laughed.
He leaned back. “Eventually, you’ll come out with me. Walk jobsites. Meet subcontractors. Learn how weather, access, deliveries, crews, everything... shapes a project.” He nodded at the blueprint. “But for now, this is your field.”
I looked down at the lines, Judge Warren’s words echoing: Six months.
I gripped the architect’s scale. “Okay.”
Frank arched an eyebrow. “Okay what?”
“Teach me.”
His face changed, just a little. Approval.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He turned the blueprint toward me and pointed to the first line. “Let’s begin.”