The whole gym went silent.

I walked to the podium. Dad stood beside me.

I'm not good at speeches. I kept it simple.

“My name is Wyatt Harlan,” I said. “Most of you know me. Most of you know my dad, Roy. He worked at the Works for thirty years.”

Some of the old men in the bleachers nodded.

“Ten years ago, I left Haddon in my dad's truck with one bag. I started making tables in a garage in North Carolina, the way he taught me. Today, my company has three hundred employees. And we need more.”

I took a breath.

“We're not knocking down the Works,” I said. “We're opening it back up.”

Nobody moved.

“Two hundred and fifty jobs in the first year,” I said. “Four hundred by year three. Real furniture. Michigan hardwood. Made right here. Fair wages and full benefits. Training for anyone who wants to learn, even if you've never held a chisel in your life. And we hire from Haddon first.”

I looked at my dad.

“And the head of training,” I said, “is Roy Harlan.”

There was one second of silence.

Then the whole gym exploded.