He raised his glass to me in a silent toast.

My phone screen lit up with an incoming call from my lead site manager in Chicago.

I pressed the phone to my ear and stepped deeper into the alcove, away from the chatter of the ballroom.

“Marcus,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Tell me exactly what you are seeing on-site.”

“The city inspectors just walked off the pier, Claire,” Marcus said, his voice strained over the sound of Chicago traffic in the background. “They have a stop-work order in their hands.”

“On what grounds?” I asked.

“The structural integrity calculations for the eastern retaining wall don’t match our physical foundation specs,” he said. “The digital file in the city registry shows a thirty percent reduction in the reinforcement steel.”

I held my breath, my thumb scrolling through the hex codes on my tablet.

“That is a collapse hazard,” I said quietly.

“Exactly,” Marcus said. “If we poured concrete based on those digital specs, the pier would slide into the lake within five years.”