“Ms. Ballinger, it’s nice to meet you. I don’t want to interrupt. I’m just here to do the walk-through before we begin work Thursday morning. Sir, I can get started and report back on anything I see different than the specs,” Trent said, moving around them to the front door.
“Yeah, that would be great. We have a couple of minor changes to Jacquelyn’s, I mean Ms. Ballinger’s, office. I’ll get with you in a few minutes, Cooper.” The project manager looked like any typical foreman for this area. Older, receding hairline, hard Northern accent, and a beer belly requiring suspenders to keep his pants up, but it sure looked like he tried hard to suck that gut in to impress the lady.
Jacquelyn Ballinger on the other hand looked to be in about her forties, polished, sophisticated and by the look of the suit she wore, very accomplished. He didn’t see it happening between the two of them and if this job weren’t so important to him, he might even let McCall know he aimed too high with her, but instead he kept his mouth shut and balanced everything in his left hand to open the front door to the studio.
Massive structural changes were already underway inside the building. The gallery looked large and spacious, almost completely open. A vaulted cathedral style ceiling was taking shape above and jewel-toned colors were already splashing out from every corner. There looked to be a maze of display walls standing about seven feet tall in the center of the room, but none reached the high ceiling being prepared above. A small office sat to the right and a stunning ornately carved spiral staircase ran along the far right hand back wall, up to the second floor. The molding design on the stairwell looked like a perfect match to the design being added to the ceiling above.
Fast paced understated how quickly this place had come together. Trent walked farther in, immediately switching into electrical contractor mode. A frenzy of activity swirled around him; there wouldn’t be any room for delays or errors. If one step faltered, it could create an entire jobsite delay, and clearly, by the look of the place, no money was being spared in getting this remodel completed on time. Initially, he’d been told the electrical portion of the remodel would be minor. His bid called for more cosmetic repairs than anything else. Every wall in the room required electricity, and the specs showed it to already be in place, but as he walked through the maze of walls, he could see it wasn’t there on many of the inside walls.
He’d seen this before. These buildings were old and went through a series of remodels over the years. Electrical power could only come to the center inside walls two different ways: either from the ceiling or through the floor. Based on the concrete floor markings some had power, where others didn’t. He worked through the possibilities in his mind. At this point, to get it added now meant they would have to go through the floor since the walls didn’t reach the ceiling. The floors were already being primed for tile, meaning they would need to do this part of the job right away; first thing in the morning. Trent made a series of notes on his clipboard as he continued thinking it through, running a mental list of needed supplies as he jotted down his notes. It would add to the work load, but totally manageable and it could possibly be something the owner declined to do. He’d need to point it out to Roger as soon as possible.
The ventilation contractors, the dry wall specialist, and the painters were already hard at work. He could hear what he assumed were the heat and air people beginning to work on the roof. The current lighting looked terrible, but those changes were coming. Pendulant fixtures were to arrive tomorrow and would be hung all over the room. Looking up, Trent scanned the ceiling closely and counted off. From this angle, it appeared like the ceiling people did an adequate job at leaving room for his men to work with minimal damage to the new woodwork. Bonus!
Anchoring his clipboard under his arm, Trent tested connections and made several notes on which walls absolutely didn’t have electricity. He did the measurements on a few walls, deciding what could be pulled together in the least invasive ways. Other than the center walls, the specs seemed pretty dead on for this middle floor. He needed to check the electrical panel, make sure the amperage load was correct to pull all this electricity together and then check the air and heating systems voltage. If they were all right, he would let the project manager know about the inside walls and his work here would be done. The only thing left to do was to show up tomorrow and work like demons over the next eight days to complete the job on time. Holding his clipboard in one hand, Trent checked the building layout page. He found the panel in the basement. He scanned the page again and found the door leading to the basement across the room.
“Are you my new electrical contractor?” A smooth, masculine voice asked from behind. Trent turned his head over his shoulder to see an extraordinary pair of slate blue eyes staring back at him from a few feet away.
“Yes, sir,” Trent said, turning completely around. He stumbled about mid-turn with his hand stuck in mid-air as he automatically went to shake hands. The man standing in front of him was none other than the legendary photo investigative journalist Gage Synclair, and Trent went dumb.
After the first moment of seeing Gage and losing all ability to think, everything began crashing through his mind all at the same time. He realized this must be Gage Synclair’s new gallery, the one he’d read about online. Trent watched every report Gage ever gave and read every article written by the guy. Gage was a Time Magazine, 60 Minutes, and CNN Special Reporter. Hell, his DVR currently sat filled with Gage’s latest interviews and Special Reports. How could he have missed this being Gage Synclair’s building?