“Safety audits.”
“Preventive maintenance.”
Jimmy thought.
Beth continued.
“You already know the regional plants.”
“Maybe.”
“You'd need a truck.”
“Tools.”
“Insurance.”
“Certification.”
“Working capital.”
He looked suspicious.
“You prepared this.”
“I think quickly.”
“You Googled.”
“Also.”
Jimmy laughed.
He leaned closer.
“You are dangerous.”
Beth smiled.
“You like me.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Very unfortunate.”
He kissed her across the table.
The waitress walked past.
“Get a room.”
Jimmy pulled back.
Beth laughed.
The waitress added:
“And order pie first.”
They did.
Jimmy opened Sullivan Industrial Service four months later.
Not with Beth’s money.
That mattered to him.
He borrowed against the house.
Used a small-business loan.
Sold his old motorcycle.
Beth connected him with an accountant only after he asked.
She did not invest.
Not initially.
Lucy designed the website.
It looked better than most Fortune 500 sites.
Jimmy’s first client was a dairy-processing plant.
Second was a plastics manufacturer.
Third was one of Harrington’s competitors.
By month six, he hired Pete.
Pete quit Harrington happily.
By month nine, they had six employees.
Beth became unbearable.
“I told you.”
Jimmy would answer:
“You suggested mobile maintenance.”
“You executed.”
“Still counts.”
“No.”
She loved arguing with him because he argued back.
Most people in her life either agreed too quickly or fought strategically.
Jimmy fought honestly.
If he thought she was wrong, he said it.
If he was wrong, he eventually admitted it.
Eventually being the difficult part.
Lucy became thirteen.
Then fourteen.
She won a statewide robotics competition.
Beth attended wearing a baseball cap and jeans.
People recognized her anyway.
Lucy pretended annoyance.
Then introduced Beth to teammates as:
“My dad's girlfriend who owns too many companies.”
Beth said:
“Accurate.”
Jimmy stood nearby holding flowers.
Lucy looked at them.
“Those are embarrassing.”
“You won.”
“They're still embarrassing.”
She hugged him anyway.
Then Beth.
Longer.
That mattered.
Jimmy saw it.
Beth saw him seeing it.
Later, in the parking lot, Jimmy pulled her close.
“You're crying.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“Wind.”
“Inside gym?”
“Complex weather.”
He laughed.
Beth kissed him.
“Shut up.”
“Yes, boss.”
“I am not your boss.”
“Still best news.”
Old joke.
They had many now.
Daniel Mercer's investigation ended with his resignation.
No criminal charges.
External review found he had applied improper pressure to maintain production and tolerated retaliation but lacked evidence he knew the machine had been deliberately bypassed.
Beth accepted the conclusion.
Reluctantly.
She hated ambiguity.
Reality supplied too much of it.
Mercer lost millions in unvested compensation.
More importantly to him, he lost reputation.
He sent Beth one letter afterward.
Not apology.
Explanation.
He wrote that large companies were built through tradeoffs.
That executives managed probabilities.
That every factory had risk.
That if leaders stopped production every time someone raised concern, nothing would operate.
Beth read it once.
Then placed it in a drawer.
Jimmy asked what she thought.