She could hear the contempt beneath his words, but now she heard something else beneath them too. He'd identified a real problem. She was learning to solve it through the ordinary competent work of design, testing, communication, and correction. She didn't need to make him wrong about the difficulty in order to prove she belonged in the room.
By January, the largest elements were approaching their final checks. Maren traveled to the site to inspect the conditions in which the pieces would be installed, accompanied by Luis and the project manager. The resort sat above a stretch of northern coast where the air held a salty dampness even on days without rain. The main hall was still full of construction noise, unfinished surfaces, and temporary protection, but the building's shape had become visible. Large windows looked toward the ocean, and light moved across the room in broad bands that reminded Maren of the first day she'd seen the redwood figure open under Wyatt's saw.
She stood where the conference table would be placed and imagined it beneath the windows. The healed scar would be nearest the end where the client planned to seat a meeting chair, and the waves would travel along the top toward the other seats. She walked to the reception area and pictured guests first encountering the related grain in a vertical surface, then discovering it again in a piece they'd touch with their hands. The concept worked in the building, not merely on paper. She was almost afraid to allow herself the relief of recognizing that.
Julian arrived with a rolled set of drawings and asked whether the actual light changed anything she wanted to recommend. Maren considered the panel positions and suggested rotating one sequence so the figure would catch the afternoon sun rather than disappear into shadow. He looked at the wall, traced the line of light with his eyes, and agreed to review the change. The moment was small, but it represented everything the commission had required. Nobody in the room was asking her to be grateful for a chance to deliver lumber. They were asking for her judgment as the maker who knew the material.
Outside the main hall, she encountered Preston near a stack of conventional trim. Harrington's crews were finishing their own part of the project, and he had come to review delivery and installation. He looked at her for a moment, and she could see him deciding what version of the conversation they were both expected to have. Then he asked whether the special panels had arrived on schedule. She told him most had and that the last shipment was pending a final inspection. He nodded and said the coordination had been complicated.
"It has," she agreed.
He looked toward the gathering hall. "Your material will change the room. I can see that now."