Runoff on Sierra Highway had washed out several roads and driveways the previous winter. Most of the landowners jumped on repairs as soon as the rain stopped.
Not the owner she was meeting with today.
Mr. Sokolov, the owner of the mobile home park, had packed dirt and gravel over the ingress and egress of the only road into the place. Between the residents’ complaints and the fire department flagging the property, Mr. Sokolov was being forced to pave the road to current city standards.
He wasn’t happy.
At the first meeting, he’d done a fair amount of bitching and moaning about cost.
While Grace understood financial limitations, it wasn’t her job to lower the cost to the landowner. It was hers to come up with an engineering plan to make the road safe for everyone involved.
Knowing she was visiting the site, she’d thought ahead and wore slacks to work. She removed her high heels and tucked her toes into her tennis shoes before exiting her car. As she pulled her arms through her sweater, she scolded herself for not putting a warmer coat in her car.
With a clipboard in one hand and site plans in another, Grace walked over the gravel path in question. No one was there to greet her.
She pulled out the plans she and Evan had worked on together and walked the site to see if they’d missed anything. Ten minutes later, Mr. Sokolov drove onto the property and parked in a red zone. He pushed out of his Mercedes wearing sunglasses and a frown.
From the passenger seat, another man, almost as round as the first, joined him.
Mr. Sokolov looked around before his eyes landed on Grace. By now she was walking toward him.
“You with the city?” he asked.
Grace moved in front of him and extended her hand. “We met last month, Mr. Sokolov. Grace Hudson.”
He looked at her and her hand like she was kidding. “Where’s Evan?”
Grace dropped her hand and tried to let his slight go.
It wasn’t easy.
“Evan couldn’t make today’s meeting.”
Mr. Sokolov finally removed his unneeded sunglasses and stared down at her. “I’ve been dealing with Evan.”
Grace looked to the man at Sokolov’s side briefly. “You’re dealing with the city engineers, of which I am one.”
Somewhere in his early fifties, he was as round as he was tall, which wasn’t more than five nine. Stocky as opposed to just overweight. His friend beside him wasn’t much different from his scowl to his girth.
Mr. Sokolov’s gaze dropped from Grace’s eyes to her chest. He lingered there long enough that Grace knew the gesture was meant to make her uncomfortable. In any other situation she would have called him on it. Instead she kept her eyes on his face and waited for him to look away.
“Do you have an office here where I can spread out the plans and show you what we’ve come up with?”
He smirked, and she knew she’d chosen the wrong words. “I own the place, little lady, I don’t live here.”
“Hudson. My name is Miss Hudson. Not little lady.” He was dancing on her last nerve.
“Right.” He moved past her toward his car and tapped the hood. “You can spread them here.”
Let it go, Grace.
She unrolled the plans. “Would you mind holding that end?” she asked both of them since neither had moved to do so.
Reluctantly, Mr. Sokolov’s companion, who they failed to introduce her to, did so.
All three of them peered down at the drawings and calculations.
The sketches were minimal, but the dimensions were precise. The only reason they were looking at the city drawings instead of her looking at his was because if he didn’t cooperate and do the job himself, the city was going in to do it for him and charge him accordingly. This was a public safety issue, and the warnings had gone out months ago and were ignored. This meeting was the last attempt to get the man to cooperate before they took action.
“As we pointed out when we met last month, the road has to significantly increase in size to accommodate the use and efficiency of the location.”
“Which is bullshit. The road has been the same size since I bought the place,” he argued.
“And had the road been maintained with the right material, it may have withstood last year’s storms and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
He glared at her. “What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing.” She made her point before placing a finger on the drawing. She explained the depth of the excavation, the amount of rebar that needed to