The conference room smelled faintly of cedar and fresh coffee. Autumn sat stiffly at the long table, eyes flicking between her laptop screen and the large wooden cabinet Sam had designed himself, placed like a silent witness behind him.
"Sam, these inconsistencies in the books can't be overlooked," Autumn said firmly, pushing her glasses up. "If we don't get clear records, it could cost the company dearly."
Sam's jaw tightened. "I understand your concern, but some of our artisans work on trust and tradition paperwork isn't always exact."
"Tradition doesn't pay the bills," Autumn replied, voice rising slightly. "We need transparency."
He stood, frustration flashing in his eyes. "And I'm telling you;this isn't just numbers. It's people's livelihoods it's family."
A tense silence fell. Autumn bit her lips, regretting the sharpness in her tone.
"I don't want to fight," she said softly. "I just want to do this right."
Sam exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Me too. Maybe… we're just coming at this from unusual places."
Her heart fluttered in a way she didn't expect maybe, beneath the friction, there was room for understanding.