The late afternoon sun struck the glass front of the building and made the windows glow like polished copper above the parking lot.

Down in the main staging yard, the work crews were packing up their equipment for the day.

Yellow haul trucks sat in tidy rows by the gate while the site foremen loaded blueprint tubes into the beds of their pickups.

Rebecca came out through the front glass doors in a sharp gray blazer, a folder under her arm.

She came down the concrete steps toward my truck, her stride confident and strong in the bright spring air.

“The printer dropped off the new office stationery an hour ago,” Rebecca said, opening the folder and taking out a single sheet of heavy white linen paper.