Chương 5
Now his name sat beneath a forty-million-dollar request made less than an hour after I walked out of his house.
"Can he get it?"
Thomas shook his head.
"Not anymore."
My father looked at me.
"You made one call."
"No."
I looked back toward the dental office, where a nurse was wiping a streak of Hazel's blood from the vinyl chair.
"I stopped pretending I couldn't make one."
Thomas lowered the phone.
"That request wasn't scheduled."
My father looked at him.
"You're certain?"
"It bypassed their usual treasury window and came through as urgent liquidity."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning somebody at Albright thinks tomorrow morning is too late."
Hazel tugged my hand again.
"Are we still getting nuggets?"
Richard looked at her as if she had rescued all of us from becoming unbearable.
"Yes."
Thomas slid his phone into his pocket.
"We should probably not discuss a forty-million-dollar liquidity crisis in front of a five-year-old."
Hazel frowned.
"I'm five and a half."
"Then I withdraw the objection."
Richard almost smiled.
We drove separately because I wasn't ready to sit beside my father in a car and pretend six years could be crossed in twelve minutes.
Thomas rode with him.
Hazel and I took the rideshare to a small diner near Century City where the booths were cracked red vinyl and nobody cared who owned what company.
She ate three chicken nuggets, half a fry, and then announced that chewing was exhausting.
I ordered applesauce.
Richard arrived carrying a pharmacy bag.
He placed it beside me without comment.
Inside were children's acetaminophen, a new toothbrush with extra-soft bristles, saline rinse, two reusable cold packs, and three kinds of pudding.
I looked at him.
"The dentist only mentioned two of these things."
"I was at a pharmacy."
"Clearly."
"The pharmacist was thorough."
Thomas sat across from us.
"He interrogated the pharmacist."
"I asked questions."
"You asked whether chocolate pudding could interfere with gum healing."
Richard looked offended.
"It seemed relevant."
Hazel pointed at him.
"That's the best pudding."
My father nodded.
"Exactly."
It was the first alliance they formed.
I hated how much it hurt to watch.
For years I had told myself that keeping Hazel away from Richard protected her from the Crawford world.
My father could be controlling, vindictive, and frighteningly certain of his own judgment.
He had also just spent fifteen minutes asking a pharmacist about pudding because his granddaughter had lost two teeth.
Both things were true.
That was inconvenient.
Most truths were.
My regular phone lit up against the table.
Spencer.
I let it ring.
A second call came immediately.
Then a text.
Where are you?
Another followed.
We need to talk before tonight.
Then another.
This has gone too far.
I stared at the words.
Cassandra had struck Hazel.
Spencer had tried to force a custody clause under my hand.
I had left.
Yet somehow whatever came next was the part that had gone too far.
Richard watched my face.
"Is that him?"
"Yes."
"Give me the phone."
"No."
His expression hardened from father to chairman in less than a second.
"Gwendolyn."
"No."
Hazel looked up from her applesauce.
"Mommy's name is Gwen."
Richard opened his mouth.
I raised one eyebrow.
He shut it.
Thomas hid a smile behind his coffee.
My phone rang again.
This time I answered.
"What?"
Spencer's voice came low and controlled.
"Where are you?"
"With Hazel."
"I know that."
"Then why did you ask?"
"Don't do this."
I leaned back against the booth.
"Do what?"
"Play stupid."
There he was.
The familiar Spencer.
Not the polished donor.
Not the affectionate husband in Christmas photographs.
The man who always needed to shrink the person across from him before he could feel tall enough to speak.
"Say what you called to say."
A pause.
"Did you contact your father?"
I looked at Richard.
He had stopped pretending not to listen.
"Why?"
"Answer me."
"No."
"Goddammit, Gwen."
Hazel's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth.
I turned slightly away from her.
"Don't yell."
"Then answer the question."
"Did you request forty million dollars?"
Silence.
Thomas's eyes rose to mine.
I had not planned to ask.
Spencer recovered quickly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Good."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means if you don't know, we have nothing to discuss."
"Wait."
I almost hung up.
His voice changed.
Less anger.
More calculation.
"Gwen, listen to me."
I said nothing.
"Whatever you think is happening, you're being manipulated."
"By whom?"
"Your father."
Richard's mouth tightened.
Spencer continued.
"He has wanted control of Albright since the day we got married."
"Why would he need me for that?"
"Because you gave him an opening."
"How?"
Another pause.
I heard movement behind him.
A door closing.
Then his voice dropped.
"You made some kind of complaint."
"I called my family."
"Don't be cute."
"I'm not."
"You know what Crawford Capital can do to us."
There was fear beneath the anger now.
Thin, carefully hidden, but there.
I had rarely heard it in him.
"You mean what it can stop doing for you."
"Same difference."
"No."
"Gwen."
He exhaled sharply.
"The gala tonight matters."
Hazel dipped a fry into applesauce.
I watched her eat it.
"Then go."
"I need you there."
That surprised me.
"Why?"
"Because we are presenting stability."
I looked at Thomas.
He mouthed, Investors.
I nodded.
Spencer kept talking.
"There are lenders, board members, donors, people who don't need to see some domestic tantrum turn into gossip."
"Domestic tantrum."
"You know what I mean."
"Do I?"
"Come home."
"No."
"Then meet me at the gala."
"No."
"Gwen, for once in your life, think beyond yourself."
Something cold passed through me.
I looked at Hazel's bruised cheek.
"No."
His voice sharpened.
"If you don't show up tonight, people will ask questions."
"They should."
He went silent.
Then, very softly, he said, "You have no idea what you're doing."
That used to work.
He knew it did.
May you like
It had been one of his most reliable tools.
Make the world sound complicated enough, and I would retreat before embarrassing myself.
