She waited in silence while they glanced at the new contract. Petra nibbled on her lower lip, and Slate kept a bold silence as the minutes ticked by.
“What if in ten days we’re still not satisfied?” Slate demanded.
“I won’t let that happen again,” Morgan said simply. “I know how to fix it, and I can.”
Petra stared at her. “Is it even possible to do this within the time period?” she asked.
Cal spoke up. “We have the building and design team on standby. It is possible, and I promise you we will meet deadline.”
Morgan locked gazes with Petra. Slowly the woman nodded. “Yes, I like these changes. Since we’re in town, I’ll be able to work with you. I’ll go through your pictures and tell you what I think.”
Slate turned to his wife. “Are you sure?”
Petra shrugged. “The Plaza is quite satisfactory, and I can see a few Broadway plays this week. We can manage ten more days. I think we should give Morgan another chance.”
Slate nodded. “Then I’ll go along with my wife. You have ten days.”
“Thank you,” Morgan said.
They shook hands, and she walked them out. When she returned to the conference room, Cal simmered behind the table.
“I hated the way they talked to you,” he grumbled. “He’d look more manly with a black eye.”
Morgan laughed. “I’m sure you’ve dealt with your own demanding clients. He has a right to be pissed. He’s spent millions on me, and I didn’t deliver.”
“His opinion. Not mine.”
“I know.” She crossed the room and leaned in for a hug. The overwhelming demands of the next ten days should have made her want to weep. Instead, a rush of adrenaline and challenge beat in her blood. This time she knew exactly what she had to do. “Are we ready to do this?”
“Yes. Tristan and Dalton are already at the house. Sydney’s making calls to suppliers, and Brady’s already restructuring the measurements for the film room. I booked my team for overtime, and we’ll work through the night if we have to.”
She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Charming.”
“Welcome, princess. Now let’s get to work.”
Eleven days later, Morgan sat in the kitchen surrounded by boys, munching on pizza. “I’m going to sleep for a week,” she groaned, taking a moment to shove a piece of crust in her mouth.
Cal grabbed two Heinekens from the refrigerator and slid them across the marble countertop. “It was close, but we did it. Petra loved the new design, which made Slate less of an asshole.”
Tristan laughed and poured himself a glass of wine. “The Chinese lanterns were a brilliant touch,” he said. “It brought so much color to the stark red and black.”
“Yeah, but taking out those cabinets felt like a crime,” Dalton muttered. “I like Morgan’s original vision so much better.”
“I caught you crying when you used your hammer,” Cal teased.
“Imagine Michelangelo destroying David. That’s how it felt.”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “You are no Michelangelo, dude.”
“You were always jealous of me.”
Morgan laughed. “It hurt me, too, Dalton. Thinking of all that beautiful art and wood in the shed breaks my heart.”
“You’ll find another use for it,” Cal assured her.
“I’m going to have three houses to renovate in the next few months, so those items will save my ass.”
Cal took a bite of pizza, wiped his mouth, and nodded. “Brady scored an addition job downtown, so I’ll be starting on that next week.”
“And Sandy Harper’s dad hooked me up with the Bingo crew. A bunch of them saw his deck and want one for themselves, so that’ll keep me busy awhile,” Dalton said.
“The Rosenthals will be doing a spread in Home Style magazine, so the publicity should bring you new clients,” Morgan said. “Will it be enough?”
“To turn a profit for the first year? Hopefully. We have two more months to hit it hard.”
“We’ll make it,” Dalton said with confidence.
“What about you, Morgan?” Tristan asked. “Gonna take some time off, or do you have another client?”
She glanced at Cal. He stiffened, but there was a determination in his eyes. They were going to make it work because there was no other way. They needed each other. When Tiffany Taylor emailed her, asking if she’d complete an entire renovation on her three-million-dollar house in LA, Morgan knew Cal was right. One mix-up with the Rosenthals wouldn’t have broken her. Now, with the successful redesign, she’d proved she could deliver even when there was an error, which only made her worth go up. It was a glamorous project she’d normally jump on. But last night, considering the next few months, Morgan experienced a lightbulb moment. A way to give them both what they wanted. She was just a bit nervous about bringing it up, just in case they didn’t like the idea.