innovative as the Brooklyn Bridge."
"I saw it, the last time I was in New York City. It's an incredible structure. Truly
awe-inspiring."
"You'd probably have been disappointed with my bridge then. To a non-engineer,
it probably didn't look like much. Truss spans rarely do."
" Your bridge? You really are proud of it, aren't you?"
"I was." The anger he thought he'd conquered burned in his gut. "Even more so
when I was assigned as the engineer on site, once they'd started building it. I was the
liaison between the office in Newark, and the construction crews." At her look of surprise,
he explained. "That means I was there in case they had questions about the plans. I had no
authority. I couldn't make any decisions."
The quick movements of her fingers slowed as she looked across at him. "In other
words, you were the goat."
"The goat?"
"Who got sacrificed if anything went wrong."
"What a rotten thing to say. Millett, Durham and Kane is a reputable engineering
firm. They wouldn't do anything like that. Besides, the fault was with the construction
firm, not the design. They took shortcuts...used inferior materials..." He got to his feet,
finding it easier than it had been earlier, and went to the window. As he stared out into the
night, he said, "I should have kept a closer eye on them. Should have made sure they built
everything to our design specifications."
"Oh? Was that part of your job?"
"Uh, no, not exactly. I wasn't an inspector, or anything. But I should have watched
more closely." How many nights had he lay awake, staring at an unseen ceiling, wishing he
could go back and do all he hadn't done. "It may not have been my job, but I was there, and
I didn't make sure they followed the design specs. That makes it my fault." He leaned his
forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. But he still saw the wreckage...
"Ferd Cunningham, the prime contractor on the bridge construction, has been in
the business for a long time. He has a pretty good opinion of himself, and he doesn't think
much of engineering firms like Millett, Durham and Kane. He thought nothing of changing
a design if he thought it was wrong.
"The design was innovative, unlike anything he'd worked on before. He said it was
overbuilt, some of the materials called for were unnecessary. So he made substitutions. I
protested the ones I saw, but I know I missed a lot. I wrote of my concerns to Mr. Millett.
He came to the site several times, and once or twice he made them redo something. But
more often he ignored me, or told me I was crying wolf. After a while he stopped
answering my letters. Six months before the bridge was finished, he called me back to
Newark and assigned me to another project."
The disappointment was still sharp and painful. "A mansion on Long Island," he
said, letting his scorn show in his voice. "A big monstrosity of a house with nothing
attractive or interesting about it."
"I don't understand. Are you saying you quit your job because you were assigned
to a project you didn't like?"
Disappointed she would even consider such a thing, he said, "No. I'd never do
anything like that. I didn't quit my job, I was fired." Swallowing, because the lump in his
throat threatened to stop his words, he said, "Worse, I was blacklisted. No reputable
engineering firm in the country will ever hire me again." He had to take three deep, slow
breaths to steady his voice. "A hundred and thirty-two innocent people died when the
bridge failed as a train was crossing it, because I was too ineffectual to prevent shoddy
work. Because I didn't make Mr. Millett listen to me when I told him what was
happening." He threw himself into the rocker, welcoming the pain when his back screamed
from the impact.
Lulu knitted in silence for a long time. At last she said, "If you feel you're at fault,
there's nothing I can say to change your mind. But it sounds to me like you did all you
could. Have you talked to Uncle Silas about this?"
"No. I haven't even told him. I
"I saw it, the last time I was in New York City. It's an incredible structure. Truly
awe-inspiring."
"You'd probably have been disappointed with my bridge then. To a non-engineer,
it probably didn't look like much. Truss spans rarely do."
" Your bridge? You really are proud of it, aren't you?"
"I was." The anger he thought he'd conquered burned in his gut. "Even more so
when I was assigned as the engineer on site, once they'd started building it. I was the
liaison between the office in Newark, and the construction crews." At her look of surprise,
he explained. "That means I was there in case they had questions about the plans. I had no
authority. I couldn't make any decisions."
The quick movements of her fingers slowed as she looked across at him. "In other
words, you were the goat."
"The goat?"
"Who got sacrificed if anything went wrong."
"What a rotten thing to say. Millett, Durham and Kane is a reputable engineering
firm. They wouldn't do anything like that. Besides, the fault was with the construction
firm, not the design. They took shortcuts...used inferior materials..." He got to his feet,
finding it easier than it had been earlier, and went to the window. As he stared out into the
night, he said, "I should have kept a closer eye on them. Should have made sure they built
everything to our design specifications."
"Oh? Was that part of your job?"
"Uh, no, not exactly. I wasn't an inspector, or anything. But I should have watched
more closely." How many nights had he lay awake, staring at an unseen ceiling, wishing he
could go back and do all he hadn't done. "It may not have been my job, but I was there, and
I didn't make sure they followed the design specs. That makes it my fault." He leaned his
forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. But he still saw the wreckage...
"Ferd Cunningham, the prime contractor on the bridge construction, has been in
the business for a long time. He has a pretty good opinion of himself, and he doesn't think
much of engineering firms like Millett, Durham and Kane. He thought nothing of changing
a design if he thought it was wrong.
"The design was innovative, unlike anything he'd worked on before. He said it was
overbuilt, some of the materials called for were unnecessary. So he made substitutions. I
protested the ones I saw, but I know I missed a lot. I wrote of my concerns to Mr. Millett.
He came to the site several times, and once or twice he made them redo something. But
more often he ignored me, or told me I was crying wolf. After a while he stopped
answering my letters. Six months before the bridge was finished, he called me back to
Newark and assigned me to another project."
The disappointment was still sharp and painful. "A mansion on Long Island," he
said, letting his scorn show in his voice. "A big monstrosity of a house with nothing
attractive or interesting about it."
"I don't understand. Are you saying you quit your job because you were assigned
to a project you didn't like?"
Disappointed she would even consider such a thing, he said, "No. I'd never do
anything like that. I didn't quit my job, I was fired." Swallowing, because the lump in his
throat threatened to stop his words, he said, "Worse, I was blacklisted. No reputable
engineering firm in the country will ever hire me again." He had to take three deep, slow
breaths to steady his voice. "A hundred and thirty-two innocent people died when the
bridge failed as a train was crossing it, because I was too ineffectual to prevent shoddy
work. Because I didn't make Mr. Millett listen to me when I told him what was
happening." He threw himself into the rocker, welcoming the pain when his back screamed
from the impact.
Lulu knitted in silence for a long time. At last she said, "If you feel you're at fault,
there's nothing I can say to change your mind. But it sounds to me like you did all you
could. Have you talked to Uncle Silas about this?"
"No. I haven't even told him. I
Similar Books
