“And two local television crews,” Julian added.

I picked up a red drafting pen and adjusted a line on the foam-core presentation board.

“Are the physical models in place?” I asked.

“They are,” Margaret said. “Under lock and key in the main pavilion.”

She stood up and walked over to my drafting table.

She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“You look tired, Claire,” she said.

“I didn’t sleep much,” I admitted.

“Adrian’s company is struggling,” Margaret said quietly.

“The trade papers are already whispering about their project delays in Boston.”

“He needs a win, or at least he needs to make sure you do not have one.”

I looked at the drawing of the modern, terraced seawall.

“He cannot touch this,” I said.

“The engineering is solid.”

“I verified the load-bearing capacity of the bedrock myself.”

Julian set his coffee cup down on the wooden windowsill.

“We should expect some kind of disruption,” he said.

“A question from the crowd, or a leaked document.”

“I want you to be ready to answer the technical questions, Claire.”

“Leave the corporate politics to me.”