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“IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF AND HAVE DEDICATION AND PRIDE—AND NEVER QUIT, YOU’LL BE A WINNER. THE PRICE OF VICTORY IS HIGH—BUT SO ARE THE REWARDS.” —PAUL “BEAR” brYANT

T en Years Later …

Ginger watched her best friend dip her hand in the chalk pack and look with eager anticipation at the massive wall in front of her. Sydney turned and caught Ginger’s gaze. “Race you to the top?”

Ginger raised an eyebrow. Instead of replying, she shook her head and then waved her hand. “No thanks.”

She watched Sydney maneuver up the wall like spider man, her blonde hair swinging. Admittedly, despite her best efforts, she was a tad envious of Sydney’s lean, athletic frame. Ginger was always trying in vain to lose those last five pounds. “I can hear it now,” she would often complain to Sydney, “here comes Barbie and her short, stubby sidekick.”

The two girls met their freshman year at Texas Christian University when they were assigned as roommates. They were an unlikely pair, but they clicked. They had been inseparable until Ginger’s marriage to Mark six months earlier.

Now Ginger and Sydney saw each other less but remained close. Today they were shopping for a dress for Sydney. Even though they both lived only five minutes from the mall in Ft. Worth, Sydney insisted on driving the extra twenty minutes to the Parks Mall in Arlington so she could go climbing on the wall at Galyan’s Sports Center.

Ginger examined her nails. How many would she break this time? She thrust her hand in the chalk pack and then gave her harness a swift yank. She looked up at the gray knobs that looked like blobs of putty. It could be worse, she told herself. This could be a real mountain with no hand or footholds.

Ginger could feel every muscle strain in protest when she reached to grab the knob on her left. She held on for dear life and heaved her left leg up to a knob even with her chest. She tried to pull her body up and lost her grip. She fell about a foot before the harness caught her. She swung back and forth for a moment before looking up. “Hey Syd, let’s grab some frozen yogurt at TCBY on our way home. I can just taste a white chocolate mousse waffle cone dripping with wet walnuts.”

Ginger ate a spoonful of frozen yogurt and leaned back in her chair. “Now this is what I call recreation.”

Sydney studied her friend and then shook her head. “What am I gonna do without you?”

Ginger’s lively brown eyes grew filmy. “You don’t have to go, you know.”

The two sat quietly for a moment. There was so much between them. Sydney felt a lump rise in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “Yes, I do.”

“How did Adam take the news?”

A brief smile flittered at the corners of Sydney’s mouth. She shrugged. “About like I expected. The very notion of my leaving Ft. Worth to interview in some podunk town in Alabama that he’s never even heard of is almost as unfathomable to him as my having the gall to leave him.” Sydney frowned when she remembered the heated conversation she and Adam had the night before. She kept her voice light. “Aside from that … I think he’s handling it okay.” She forced a laugh. “You know me, Gin. I’ll be all right. It’s like you always say: I change boyfriends about as often as most women change hairstyles.”

Ginger twirled a lock of glossy chestnut hair around her finger without responding.

“Hey, you could at least pretend to disagree with that last comment.”

Ginger chuckled. “You’re the one who said it.” She shifted in her seat and started chewing on her lip. “Are you sure about this?” She looked at Sydney. “Adam Sinclair is quite the catch. And he’s crazy about you.”

“And I guess my recent inheritance doesn’t hurt me any in his eyes either, does it?”

Ginger’s eyes grew wide. “Surely you don’t believe that. His family is just as wealthy as your aunt was.”

Not a tenth as wealthy, she could have said. She stirred her yogurt. “Oh, I know.” The truth of the matter was she’d already thought about what she’d be losing by leaving. She and Adam had met a year ago at a charity function. Her aunt was on the board of directors for the Kimbell Art Museum and had insisted that Sydney accompany her. Just when she’d resigned herself to another boring evening at a social parade, Adam’s eyes caught hers through the crowd. She’d been instantly drawn to Adam’s wry sense of humor and quick smile. There was a boyish charm about the way he brushed back the hair that kept falling over his left eye. He was everything she’d always wanted and yet …

Ginger seemed to read her thoughts, something she did quite often. “Adam is a hunk. I would’ve gone after him myself if it weren’t for Mark.” Sydney’s expression didn’t change. She was used to Ginger’s teasing. “When do you leave?” Ginger asked.

“I have to be there by next Tuesday.”

“Mom’s gonna want to have you over for one of her famous send-offs, complete with lasagna and her famous chocolate cake.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Ginger’s family had practically adopted Sydney. At first Sydney had felt out of place in the Parkins’ boisterous home where Ginger was the middle child of seven. She made up excuses so she wouldn’t have to accompany Ginger on her visits home, but Ginger refused to accept any of them. Finally, Sydney gave up. She went to the Parkins’ home and grew to love them as much as they loved her.

The biggest change in Sydney’s life came when Ginger invited her to attend her church. Religion had never played a major part in Sydney’s life, so she was reluctant at first. Ginger pestered her until she finally gave in. The Church and the Parkins had helped fill a void in Sydney’s life.

Ginger interrupted her thoughts. “Even if Adam is mad at you, he won’t be able to stay that way after he sees you in that little black Armani dress you bought.”

Sydney chuckled. “Let’s hope not. The thing cost me a small fortune.”

“You can afford it, and besides, you needed something to wear to the club. It’s not every day a girl gets to have dinner at the Colonial Country Club with the prestigious Dr. and Mrs. Peter Sinclair.”

Sydney wrinkled her nose. She didn’t relish spending one of her last evenings with Adam in the company of his nice but stuffy parents. She would have rather had a quiet evening alone with him. She paused. “Adam is something, isn’t he?”

Ginger nodded.“

Do you think I’m crazy for even considering that job in Alabama?”

Ginger’s mouth pulled down at the corners. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what to think.”

An uncomfortable silence passed.

“What does your heart tell you?”

Sydney shook her head. “My heart? I stopped listening to it a long time ago.”

All Sydney had to do was play it cool. She wouldn’t give too much information, just enough to appease them. She reached in her handbag for her compact and gave herself a quick once-over, applying a fresh coat of lipstick and dab of powder. She hoped the concealer would hide the dark circles under her eyes. In the past twenty-four hours, she’d gotten less than six hours of sleep.

Ginger had taken her to the airport the day before. She’d flown from Dallas to Birmingham where she’d rented a car and driven the remaining three hours to Glendale, a mid-size town located twenty miles from Stoney Creek. She’d thought about trying to get a room at the motor lodge in Stoney Creek but decided there would be a better selection in Glendale. She had purposely arrived early in the evening so she could get plenty of rest, but her mind wouldn’t cooperate. She tossed and turned most of the night and drifted off to an uneasy sleep at 2:00 AM. Her mind plagued her all night long. She was too keyed up about the interview and too upset over Adam.

The plan was for Adam, not Ginger, to drive her to the airport. But he backed out at the last minute. Supposedly, an emergency had come up at the law office, but Sydney knew that was his way of telling her it was over. His caustic attitude made her wonder if there had been anything between them to begin with. Maybe it was just one more chink in the long chain of illusions she called relationships.

She opened her car door and swung out her legs. It took some effort to pry her mind away from Adam Sinclair and concentrate on her interview that was being held at the Chamberland Paper Mill Division, but if she got the job, she would work at the hardwood sawmill across town.

The entrance to the building was covered in large, double glass doors that sparkled in the sun. Fresh paint and floor polish invaded her senses when she stepped inside and adjusted her suit. The waiting room was furnished with a few chairs and a coffee table. The room’s only décor was a plastic, green fern and two prints, one on each wall. The main wall was bare except for a window with a glass panel. A middle-aged, plump receptionist sat behind it. She peered over her glasses.

“May I help you?”

“I’m here to see the plant manager, Mr. Jake Roberts.”

The lady looked Sydney over from head to toe and then frowned. She glanced at her appointment book. “No, I don’t have you down. You’ll have to call back and make an appointment.”

The hair on the back of Sydney’s neck bristled. “I beg your pardon, but I already have a ten o’clock appointment with Jake Roberts. I’ve flown all the way from Dallas to interview with him.”

The woman huffed. “What did you say your name was?”

“Sydney Lassiter.”

“Just a moment please.” The woman stood and took a couple of steps before turning back toward Sydney who was still standing by the front window. “Oh, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” Sydney said, mostly to herself.

The woman returned a few minutes later. “Mr. Roberts will see you now.” She ushered Sydney down a long hall to an open door at the far end.

“Mr. Roberts, meet Sydney Lassiter.” The middle-aged woman sniggered and looked at Sydney like she was last week’s garbage.

Sydney did her best to keep her face neutral despite the fact that she was seething inside. The receptionist seemed to think her interview was a big joke.

Mr. Roberts came from behind the desk and shook Sydney’s hand. “Have a seat, young lady.” The expression on his face was stern even though he was attempting to smile. He was dressed in a flannel, checked shirt and wore black jeans. His round belly protruded over the front of his pants, making it impossible to determine if he was wearing a belt. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows of his hairy arms, like he was planning on breaking away from his desk any minute to do manual labor. Heavy brows overpowered his tiny gold glasses, and a short, thick beard covered his face and swallowed his neck.

Sydney felt overdressed in her four-hundred-dollar powder blue suit from Nordstrom. She crossed her legs and cringed inside when she saw Mr. Roberts glance at her expensive leather pumps.

“Ms. Lassiter, you’ll have to forgive Evelyn and me. It never occurred to either of us that Sydney could be a woman’s name. Your resume was sent to us through a recruiter, and arrangements for your interview were made through them.”

Sydney’s eyes met his in a cool challenge. “Is that a problem, Mr. Roberts? My credentials and experience are still the same.”

The furrow between his brows deepened as his reply stumbled out of his mouth. “Oh, no. I mean, it was just a surprise.”

He picked up her resume and skimmed it. “Tell me something about yourself, Ms. Lassiter. You’re from the Dallas-Ft. Worth area?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Roberts scratched his head. “Lassiter … I know a Charlie Lassiter. Do you have any relatives ’round these parts?”

“No.” She cleared her throat. “Both of my parents are deceased.”

There was an awkward pause until “ I’m sorry ” stumbled out of Mr. Robert’s mouth.

“I lived with my aunt until she passed away a couple of years ago.” She waited for him to interject something here. When he remained quiet, she continued. “I attended Texas Christian University and earned a bachelor of science in business administration and recently a master’s in industrial hygiene. I wrote a thesis on OSHA regulations and sawmills. I’ve co-oped for several summers at paper mills in the South, and I’ve spent a lot of time at the sawmills I have listed on my resume. I worked with the personnel at the South Peak Sawmill and helped them resolve some of their safety issues.”

Mr. Roberts leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. “How familiar are you with our operations?”

“I know that both the paper mill and sawmill are owned by The Chamberland Corp., and the sawmill was privately owned until a few years ago. I’m also aware of the safety problems at the sawmill.”

He nodded. “Impressive. Before we get into the safety issues, let me tell you a little history about the sawmill. Chamberland decided to purchase it because it was one of their major suppliers of hardwood chips.” He crossed his legs and tugged at his belt. “Since that time, there have been a slew of accidents. Most of them were minor until an employee was killed on May 15 th when he fell from the steel beams of a lumber sorter to the concrete floor below. This spurred an inspection from OSHA, during which several other serious violations were cited. It’s my job to find a safety expert to ensure that we not only pass the next OSHA inspection, but that we prevent this from happening again.”

Sydney nodded and mentally reviewed the information she’d learned about the sawmill. That particular accident prompted OSHA to levy a $147,000 fine.

“We’re looking at signing a twelve-month contract with the safety consultant we hire. OSHA will make follow-up visits during that period of time, and we want to be prepared.” Mr. Roberts looked down at his desk. “Your resume indicates you have a master’s degree in industrial hygiene.” He paused. “May I call you Sydney?”

“Sure.”

“Sydney, your credentials are impeccable, and it’s helpful that you’ve co-oped at several sawmills during the summers while you were attending college.” He perched his glasses on his nose and looked over them, giving Sydney the impression that she was being reprimanded by a school principal instead of being interviewed for a job. “I’ll be frank with you. This is a tough assignment. Working in a sawmill with a bunch of uneducated, backward, loggers could …” He shook his head. “Well, it could seem like one long root canal. I know I could get in trouble for talking openly to you, but the fact of the matter is that most men couldn’t handle this job. It’s rough at that sawmill, and you would be required to visit the outlying woodlands to investigate safety concerns of employees. It’s worse out there because it’s totally isolated.”

Sydney could tell right away where this was going. She had to find a way to convince him that she was the right fit for the job. She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Mr. Roberts, I’ve always been interested in safety since I was a young girl. When the recruiter told me you were looking for a consultant who could come in and help get the safety issues resolved at the sawmill before your OSHA inspection, I jumped at the chance. I’ve done a great deal of research on your company and the safety problems at the hardwood sawmill here. I want to work somewhere where I can make a difference.” She paused and looked him in the eye. “I know that I can make a difference here if given the chance. Most companies think you have to be a man to know about safety, and that’s just not true.” She leveled her stare at him until he began to squirm. She wasn’t going to budge an inch.

Mr. Roberts broke his eyes away from hers.

“Does that mean you’re not going to give me a chance?” Sydney asked, trying to control the emotion in her voice.

“No, I didn’t say that young lady. All I’m saying is that I’ll have to think about this.”

“I know my business, Mr. Roberts. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

He stood and shook hands with her. “I appreciate your coming in today. I’ll think about it and let you know. There are other applicants that we’ll be interviewing, but we’ll stay in touch.”

Sydney hardly noticed the interested looks that the men passing her in the hall cast in her direction as she left the office.

She knew Jake Roberts had no intention of hiring her. She also knew that he would indeed hire her. Her ace in the hole would guarantee it. She got to her car and reached for her phone.

One call to the right person would be enough to sway Jake Roberts in her direction.