I could have stayed silent. Instead, I stood and said quietly, “Because at ninety degrees, the tab pops open when a glass jar slides inside. At eleven, the weight of the jar locks it shut.” Mr. Adeyemi nodded. “That is exactly what my engineers told me about the original sketch,” he said. “Mrs. Voss, I have been looking for you for two years.” Gavin’s face turned the color of paper.

He opened a folder on the table. Inside lay a printed email, two years old, with my name at the top and a rough sketch attached. “This reached my desk the week my assistant left,” he said. “It was filed by mistake, and I only found it last month.” He turned to Mrs. Hargreaves. “I was not here to hear a pitch. I came to find the engineer who wrote this.