Chapter 8
---
Six months later, the Thomas Ellison Craft Institute opened.
Mara kept working at Rosie's.
That drove Nolan insane.
“You're on the board of a multimillion-dollar institute.”
“And?”
“You still serve pancakes.”
“Excellent observation.”
“You could do anything.”
“I like my job.”
He frowned.
“You complain about it constantly.”
“I complain about you constantly too.”
Nolan considered that.
“Fair.”
Their friendship had become something neither of them named.
He called her when he had difficult acquisitions.
Not to approve them.
To challenge them.
Sometimes she told him his proposal was intelligent.
More often she told him it was idiotic.
Once, during a meeting with twelve executives, Nolan asked:
“What am I missing?”
Everyone remained silent.
Mara pointed at page eighty-seven.
“The people.”
Nolan stared at the page.
Then laughed.
“Of course.”
Pierce North changed.
Not perfectly.
Companies were still businesses.
Some divisions closed.
Some jobs disappeared.
Mara refused to participate in the fantasy that every difficult decision could be avoided.
But now every acquisition required an Employee Impact Review before approval.
Health benefits received transition protections.
Plant closures required independent analysis.
Executives were compensated partly on five-year employment outcomes instead of only short-term returns.
Nolan lost money on some deals.
He made more on others.
And he stopped calling every cost reduction an efficiency.
---
Two years after the night Nolan knocked on Mara's apartment door, Gabriel Ortega stood inside his factory watching a new production line begin operation.
Employment had grown from four hundred twelve to five hundred thirty-eight.
Pierce North's investment had expanded distribution across the country.
Not one manufacturing job had been outsourced.
Gabriel walked toward Nolan.
“I owe you something.”
Nolan raised an eyebrow.
“That sounds dangerous.”
Gabriel held out his hand.
“You kept your word.”
Nolan shook it.
“Contract required me to.”
Gabriel smiled.
“No.”
He glanced toward Mara.
“She required you to.”
Mara was standing nearby with Owen.
Owen was sixteen now.
Tall.
Awkward.
Hungry every twenty minutes.
And fascinated by woodworking.
He had spent the summer apprenticing at the Thomas Ellison Institute.
Gabriel walked away.
Nolan approached Mara.
“You heard that?”
“Unfortunately.”
“He likes me now.”
“He tolerates you.”
“That's practically love from Gabriel.”
She smiled.
Nolan looked at Owen.
“Your sister tell you I used to be terrifying?”
Owen shrugged.
“She says you still are.”
Nolan looked pleased.
“She also says you don't understand diner tipping.”
His expression collapsed.
Mara laughed.
Owen wandered toward the workshop.