Chương 6
Sarah’s voice sharpened.
“But not by following him into a private conversation while you’re exhausted and medicated.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You thought it.”
“I thought you were vulnerable.”
The word hit harder than Genevieve expected.
She looked away.
Sarah sighed.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re right.”
“I can be right and still phrase things badly.”
“That should be embroidered on your pillows.”
“I don’t own decorative pillows.”
“Of course you don’t.”
They sat in silence for several seconds.
A food-service employee rolled a cart down the hall, calling room numbers in a bored voice.
Somewhere nearby, a baby began crying and another answered.
The maternity floor sounded strangely communal at night, as if everyone’s private joy and terror leaked beneath the doors.
Genevieve’s phone rang.
Sarah looked at the screen.
“Board chair.”
“Put him through.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Sarah handed her the phone.
“Genevieve?”
Arthur Bell’s voice came through too loudly.
He was seventy-one, perpetually irritated by speakerphones, and had chaired the board since Richard’s death.
“I heard there’s been an access problem.”
“That’s one description.”
“Are you all right?”
Genevieve looked at her legs beneath the blanket.
“No.”
Arthur was quiet.
“But I’m lucid.”
“I didn’t ask that.”
The answer caught her off guard.
“I know.”
“I heard about the delivery.”
“Hazel is fine.”
“And you?”
“Not as fine.”
Arthur exhaled.
“All right.”
She could picture him removing his glasses and cleaning them with the bottom of his tie.
He did that whenever people gave him news he could not fix.
“Sarah suspended Julian’s access.”
“So I’m told.”
“I authorized it.”
Another pause.
“Then we have a problem.”
Genevieve’s spine prickled.
“What kind?”
“A board problem.”
Sarah leaned closer.
Arthur continued.
“Julian called an emergency meeting for tomorrow morning.”
“He can’t.”
“He did.”
“On what authority?”
“He claims you delegated operating authority to him before the delivery.”
Genevieve stared at the ceiling.
“I did not.”
“I believe you.”
“But?”
“But two directors say they received a signed memorandum three days ago.”
Sarah mouthed, Ask for a copy.
“Send it to Sarah.”
“I already have.”
Genevieve looked at her.
Sarah’s phone chimed.
She opened the attachment.
Her expression went completely still.
“Arthur,” Genevieve said, “what does the memo say?”
“It says that in the event you become medically unable to discharge your duties, Julian assumes temporary executive authority until the board confirms your return.”
“I never signed that.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Sarah enlarged the document on her screen.
At the bottom was Genevieve’s name.
The signature looked real.
Not approximately real.
Real.
Genevieve had spent twenty years signing contracts, checks, closing documents, personnel letters, and school-fundraiser forms.
The looping G, the clipped V, even the slight upward slash at the end were hers.
Except she had never seen the page before.
“That’s my signature.”
Sarah looked at her.
“It appears to be.”
“I didn’t sign it.”
Arthur spoke carefully.
“Genevieve, there’s another issue.”
“What?”
“The memorandum was witnessed.”
“By whom?”
Silence answered first.
Then Arthur said, “Victoria Hale.”
Genevieve closed her eyes.
For a moment, all she could hear was Hazel breathing.
“Who are the two directors supporting the meeting?”
“Bennett and Ross.”
That made no sense.
Thomas Bennett had known Genevieve since she was nineteen.
Marlene Ross had once threatened to resign because Julian wanted to reduce employee health-plan contributions.
Neither was close to him.
“Why?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Ask them.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“They say Julian showed them documents suggesting the company faces immediate financing exposure if you remain unavailable.”
Genevieve opened her eyes.
“What financing exposure?”
“That is exactly what I asked.”
Sarah’s phone chimed again.
She read another message.
“This is getting worse.”
Arthur heard her.
“What?”
Sarah looked at Genevieve before answering.
“The bank sent a notice to corporate counsel yesterday.”
Genevieve’s stomach tightened.
“What notice?”
Sarah scrolled.
“A covenant review.”
Arthur swore softly.
Genevieve pressed her fingers into the mattress.
Vance Development carried debt.
Every developer did.
But their ratios were healthy, their major properties profitable, and the company had substantial liquidity.
“A review for what?”
Sarah read silently for several seconds.
Then she looked up.
“Undisclosed contingent liability.”
Genevieve felt cold.
“What liability?”
“I don’t know.”
Arthur spoke again.
“Genevieve, I’m postponing the meeting.”
“Can you?”
“As chair, I can delay it for procedural review.”
“For how long?”
“Twenty-four hours without a fight.”
Sarah nodded.
“That helps.”
Arthur continued.
“After that, if three directors insist, we may have to convene.”
“Do not let Julian chair anything.”
“I won’t.”
“And Arthur?”
“Yes?”
“Do not assume this is only about control.”
He was quiet.
“What do you think it’s about?”
Genevieve looked at the filename bearing her father’s initials.
“I think Julian found something before I did.”
Arthur’s voice changed.
“What year did you say?”
“I didn’t.”
Sarah looked at her sharply.
Arthur said nothing.
Genevieve sat very still.
“Arthur.”
A long breath came through the phone.
“Genevieve, I think we should have this conversation when you’re not in a hospital.”
“No.”
“Your father made me promise—”
Sarah stood.
Genevieve’s skin went cold.
“Promise what?”
Arthur’s silence lasted too long.
“What happened in 2012?”
“Gen.”
Only her father and Julian had ever called her that regularly.
Hearing it from Arthur frightened her.
“What happened?”
Arthur exhaled.
“There was a project in Indiana.”
Genevieve frowned.
“We never developed in Indiana.”
“You didn’t.”
The distinction landed immediately.
“My father did.”
“Yes.”
“What kind of project?”
“A housing redevelopment partnership.”
“With whom?”
“I don’t remember every entity.”
“That means you remember the important one.”
Arthur said nothing.
Genevieve’s voice lowered.
“Tell me.”
“A company called Kestrel Urban Partners.”
Sarah searched the name on her phone.
Genevieve watched her face.
“What?”
Sarah turned the screen toward her.
The corporate registry entry was old and partially dissolved, but one officer’s name remained visible.
Martin Kessler.
Genevieve stared at it.
Her father’s former attorney.
The man Julian claimed had prepared the papers on her bed.
May you like
“What happened to the project?”
Arthur’s answer came quietly.
