“Tell me and I’ll do what I can to help.”
A small measure of tightness eased from my chest. Sometimes it was good to have friends in high places.
6
Arro
The Scottish government, working in conjunction with us, Forestry and Land Scotland, had a goal of planting twenty-five million new trees every year.
As a forest engineer, that goal kept me extremely busy.
After all, this was the twenty-first century. Timber harvesting and planting all had to be planned with renewable energy and biodiversity at the forefront of our minds.
Currently, I was working on two projects with Marcello, project manager and my partner in crime. We worked on nearly all the same projects. I was lucky to be working close to home again—harvesting trees in a forest near Lairg and replanting outside Caelmore, where Lachlan and Thane lived.
It was a big day for me at our Lairg project. As the engineer, it was my responsibility to plan the logistics of safely maneuvering timber lorries and harvesters in and out of the area. Today we’d find out if all my planning was a success.
For the last four years, my record had been solid. The only issues we’d ever come across were ones caused by weather.
I was good at my job.
Pulling up behind Marcello’s SUV, I jumped out of my Defender in my usual uniform of hiking trousers, hiking boots, T-shirt, and lightweight waterproof jacket. My helmet and safety gear were on my passenger seat. Thankfully, the forecast was for dry weather for the next two days. Enough time to get started before we had to worry about working around wet, soft ground.
“There she is.” Marcello looked up from his tablet as I approached the entrance to the site. He stood with a young man I didn’t recognize.
Marcello Pernice had lived in Scotland since university. We’d worked together for years, and I considered him and his wife friends.
“Morning.” I beamed at him. “Vehicles on their way?”
“They are indeed,” he said in his wonderful jumbled Italian and Scottish accent. He indicated his companion. “Arro, this is my new project assistant, Duncan Menzie. Duncan, this is Arrochar Adair. She is our forest engineer. If I’m not around, Arro is in charge, yes.”
Duncan frowned as he gave me a rather thorough and irritating once-over. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a tone that suggested the opposite.
Warning bells rang in my head, but I took a calming breath and tried not to get ahead of myself. “You too.”
As Marcello and I, however, discussed today’s schedule, I noted Duncan aimed all his questions at Marcello.
“That is a question for Arro,” Marcello replied when Duncan asked about the construction of the road into the site and why the log storage loading area was where it was. All things I planned and decided.
Again, when he asked about the temporary bridge we’d constructed over the River Shin in order to use a nonpublic route for access and transport, he asked Marcello.
“Look,” Marcello said with a hint of impatience, “you understand everyone’s role here, so you know these are questions for Arro, okay?” There was a warning in his tone; I was not to be undermined. His solid, no-nonsense presence made life on site for a woman in a male-oriented industry a smoother ride. That it took the presence of a fair-minded male to make a female’s job easier was evidence of just how far we still had to go as a society.
Duncan sullenly nodded at the slight reprimand, but his attitude tried to pierce through my nervous excitement. After months of planning, this was the day I’d been looking forward to. To see if all our hard work would pay off so we could harvest smoothly and safely. It was satisfying to see the plans unfold in real time. The thought of having to deal with a misogynistic employee barely out of college was irritating at best.
I shrugged off Duncan’s attitude and attempted not to let it get to me. With everything going on (or not going on) in my personal life, work was my escape. People’s lives depended on my accuracy and attention to detail. It allowed me to funnel my entire focus into it, and everything else disappeared. Mac disappeared. For a little while.
Marcello’s phone rang. “Driver,” he said before answering. They had a brief conversation, and I garnered from Marcello’s side of it that the timber lorry driver was unsure which road to take.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Marcello said hurriedly, hanging up. “I thought we had signposted this well enough, no?” he threw over his shoulder as he marched to his SUV.
“Do you want me to go?”
“No, you stay here to direct him further. If we have more issues, we’ll need to reconsider the signage!”
I nodded and watched as he drove off.
“Hmm,” Duncan muttered under his breath, looking at the tablet Marcello had handed to him.