Saturday evening, Vivian made a decision that would once have struck her as humiliating. She found Callan's address through the Human Resources contact record, then asked Tessa whether an unannounced personal visit would cross any boundary or suggest improper pressure. Tessa told her that it was a poor idea, particularly given the contract dispute, and recommended asking permission first.
Vivian sent a brief text: I would like to speak with you in person. May I come by?
An hour passed. Then Callan replied: Ten minutes. Please come alone. I have my daughter at home.
She drove herself. The apartment building stood on a residential street lined with maples just beginning to turn. A bicycle leaned against the front railing. Someone had planted marigolds in two old metal containers beside the door. The lobby was small, with a notice about a missing cat taped near the mailboxes. Vivian climbed to the third floor because the elevator was temporarily out of service, and by the time she reached Callan's door she was breathing harder than she liked.
She knocked once.
He opened it wearing dark jeans and a gray henley, a dish towel over one shoulder. Without the suit and tie, he looked younger and more tired. She could smell tomato sauce and fresh bread.
"Ms. Ashford," he said.
"Vivian is fine."
"You've never called me Callan at work."
She accepted the correction with a small nod. "May we talk?"
He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door mostly closed behind him. Through the opening, she glimpsed books stacked on a low shelf, colored pencils scattered across a table, and a child wearing a paper crown while examining a model bridge.
"You have ten minutes," he said. "Dinner is nearly ready."
Vivian had come prepared to offer a consulting fee large enough to secure his attention. In the plain hallway, with children's artwork taped beside the door, the number suddenly sounded obscene.
"We need your help," she said.
"I know."
"I can offer compensation and direct board access."
"You had both available before I left."
"I didn't understand the scope of your work."
"You didn't ask."
She looked away. Somewhere behind another door a television played a game show. A child on a lower floor laughed. Life continued around them with an indifference she was unused to encountering.
"I'm asking now," she said.
"Because the company is in trouble."
"Yes."
"Not because you believe what I said. Because the consequences made it difficult to ignore."
She wanted to object. Instead she said, "That's fair."
Callan folded his arms, not aggressively but firmly.
"When I was there, I asked to have my work attributed correctly. I asked to have risk decisions recorded. I asked for two people to be trained to maintain what we built. None of those requests required a crisis."
"I know that now."
"And when I left, you told me I would get nothing."
Vivian held his gaze. "I remember."