Of course it did.
A replacement electrical component arrived late.
One conveyor required modification.
An inspection identified a drainage detail that had to be corrected.
And the first ventilation test revealed an airflow imbalance that made the original arrangement unacceptable.
The young woman wanted to scream.
Instead, she called the engineer.
He listened.
Then answered calmly.
“Fix it.”
She stared at the phone.
“That's your professional advice?” the young farmer demanded.
On the other end of the telephone, the retired engineer gave a dry little laugh.
“Would you prefer I tell you the machine is fine when the measurements say it isn't?”
She closed her eyes.
“No.”
“Then fix it.”
She looked through the glass window separating her temporary office from the processing area.
The ventilation contractor had already gone home. Half the equipment was surrounded by tools, the commissioning report was covered in red annotations, and an enormous invoice sat on her desk demanding payment within ten days.
She had spent nearly everything she could afford to spend.
Now the system responsible for controlling airborne dust wasn't performing according to its design.
And without acceptable test results, she couldn't begin the commercial pilot.
“Do you understand what this delay is costing me?” she asked.
The engineer's voice softened.
“Yes.”
She stared at the machines.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Exactly what your father would've done.”
She swallowed.
“Which is?”
“Find out what's wrong before making it somebody else's problem.”
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Then she looked toward her father's photograph on the wall.
He was standing beside an old tractor, smiling beneath a worn baseball cap.
She remembered the times he had refused to let her operate equipment until he was satisfied it was safe.
Back then, she'd considered him unnecessarily cautious.
Now she understood.
A machine that appeared to be working was not necessarily a machine that was ready.
She took a slow breath.
“All right.”
The engineer nodded.
“Good.”
“Can you come tomorrow?”
“I'll be there at seven.”
The young woman looked toward the installation.
Then smiled faintly.
“Bring coffee.”
He laughed.
“Bring a better attitude.”
She hung up.
For several minutes, she remained alone in the unfinished facility.
The old packing shed had changed so much that she sometimes struggled to recognize it.
Where her father once stacked egg cartons now stood stainless-steel processing equipment.
Where the chickens' feed supplies had been stored, a controlled materials reception area had been constructed.
The cracked concrete floor had been repaired, electrical systems upgraded, and separate spaces established for incoming shells, processing, sampling, and finished materials.