Frowning, I turned in a circle, the phone to my ear and my eyes unseeing. I stepped back out of the flow of tourists on King Street and stared blindly into the display of new and estate jewelry in Crogan’s. “And why would you want to do that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh. Well, uh, there’s a new developer for the East Bay Street Hotel Project. He bought out the old developer. And, uh, we’d obviously like to keep the business. But … he doesn’t like Jason’s design. Wanted something more …” I heard Tate clearing his voice and pictured him sticking a finger into his collar like it was choking him.

I smirked. “Go on.”

“He wanted something more historic. Given the history of the land.”

“I see.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“No.”

“No?”

“You can hire someone to consult. You can even use my designs since you took them from me. But if you think I’d work for you again after what you did, you must be out of your mind.” My heart pounded with the boldness and brashness of speaking my mind. My inner feminist cheered, even as my well-behaved, lady-like inner me that took a multitude of micro-aggressions in order not to rock the boat at work, cringed and hushed and clutched her pearls. My cheeks throbbed and my face grew hot.

“I see. I understand. Could we, ah, perhaps hire you to consult?”

I barked out a laugh. There was no answering laugh. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Very much. We’d pay you hourly the same amount, if you broke it down, that you were earning hourly—”

“No.”

“We’ll double it. Just for consulting.”

“No. And don’t insult me by offering more money. You see, the problem isn’t the job.”

“Oh? But what about the history?” he asked, his voice getting a bit superior and mocking, clearly unused to dealing with rejection. He was resorting to goading and ridicule.

I frowned.

“You have a chance to save it,” he went on as if he was doing me a favor. “To do it your way.”

Mistake, buddy. I took a deep breath. “The problem, I’m afraid, is you. While you are still in charge of the project, or anywhere near it, I won’t be working on it.” I bit my lip, astounded at myself. I knew I’d always been taught not to burn bridges. At least not in Charleston. But right now, I had no fucks left to give.

There was silence.

“If there’s nothing else …” I tested. “Friday evening is calling my name.”

“Ah, no. No. That’s all right. H-have a good evening.”

“You too.” I hung up.

Wow. This day. I shook my head.

Entering the bar, I saw Barb, Tabs, and Meredith were already there.

“Boo!” they all chorused upon seeing me.

I stopped and held my hand to my chest. “What?”