Six years ago, when Jory was fresh from graduate school with an architect degree itching to be used, he joined Wilson and Associates as their youngest employee. The first project that landed in his lap was a partnership with a local planning firm tasked with creating a site plan for proposed improvements to a minor league baseball stadium the city wanted to revamp. Used to wearing khakis and polo shirts to work, Jory dusted off the only suit he owned—the one he’d interviewed in, the one he wore for graduation—and headed downtown with Bruce for a meeting with the planners.
There had been three of them—a brassy woman who owned the company and two male associates, one older than everyone else in the room and one about Jory’s age. Peter Langston. The moment Jory laid eyes on Pete’s black hair
