Page 153 of Rhodes

“That’s probably fixable.”

She goes quiet. I realize how that sounded.

“Probably,” I repeat. “I need to see where the inventory actually is before I tell you anything useful.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have Dale’s supplier list?”

“Yeah.”

“Send it to me, along with the quantities each place can commit and whatever delivery restrictions you have at Oak Moss. Weight limits, access, staging area, anything like that.”

“I can do that.”

“Are you trying to bring it all in at once?”

“We don’t have to. Dale would rather have a predictable schedule than six trucks showing up whenever they feel like it.”

“Good. That gives me more room.”

She is quiet again, and this time I hear paper moving on her end. “Is this actually the kind of thing you do?”

“Yeah. Pretty much. Cain gets the interesting advisory work and million-dollar contracts. I handle the smaller one-off jobs in the US.”

“That sounds suspiciously like real employment.”

“I’ve been accused of worse.”

There’s a brief moment where the silence takes over. It isn’t awkward, but it also seems like we both have more to say. Perhaps that’s wishful thinking.

I push off the pallets. “Give me until tomorrow afternoon.”

“You don’t have to make this a priority. I know you’re working.”

“I am working, and this is work, so you're in luck.”

“I’m not a Nero client.”

“No, but I can make some calls without billing you four hundred dollars an hour.”

“Is that what Cain charges?”

“Probably more. He likes expensive shoes.”

“I noticed that runs in the family.”

I look down at mine.

“You've got a point.”

She laughs again, easier this time. A man at the far end of the dock raises a hand toward me, and I hold up one finger.

“Send me what you have,” I tell her. “Let me see whether I can consolidate the suppliers before anything starts moving. If I can get the freight working in your favor, the shell itself may not be the problem you think it is.”

“Okay.”

“And Tallulah?”