Chương 2
“And the gala?”
“Technically successful, if you ignore the executive meltdown occurring behind the ballroom.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Victor continued.
“Your father is in his office.”
“Is he sick?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
“Celeste told me he had chest pain.”
“She told half the building that.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course she had.
Victor lowered his voice further.
“The bank called.”
That pulled me upright.
“Which bank?”
“First Atlantic.”
“What did they want?”
“They asked whether tonight’s asset recordings affect the collateral package on the renovation facility.”
I stared at the dark window over the sink.
There was no view except the neighboring building’s brick wall.
“What renovation facility?”
Victor did not answer.
“Victor?”
“I assumed you knew.”
“Knew what?”
A breath.
Then another.
“The hotel has a financing package tied to the west tower renovation.”
“How much?”
“I don’t have the entire number.”
“Give me the number you do have.”
“Twelve point eight.”
My mouth went dry.
The west tower had never been renovated.
There had been proposals, renderings, engineering surveys, even a sample room built on the seventeenth floor.
My father had postponed the project last year.
He told the board construction costs were too high.
“He borrowed twelve point eight million dollars for a renovation that never happened?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Where did the money go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who does?”
Another pause.
“Mara, this is why I called.”
I stood and began walking without deciding to.
Three steps to the refrigerator.
Four to the window.
Turn.
Repeat.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“After the transfer notices came through, your father asked me to locate copies of every west tower vendor contract.”
“Why?”
“He said the bank might request documentation.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Yes.”
Victor sounded unhappy.
“What?”
“He specifically told me not to contact finance.”
I stopped walking.
“Who is finance now?”
“Celeste’s son.”
I had known Grant Holloway held the title of vice president for strategic development.
I had not known he controlled finance.
“When did that happen?”
“Six months ago.”
“Why?”
“Your father said it was temporary after Susan went on medical leave.”
“Susan Patel?”
“Yes.”
“She never came back?”
“No.”
Nobody had told me.
I had been at the hotel twice during those six months.
Once for lunch with Dad.
Once to approve repairs to the loading dock after Elliot reminded him that certain capital expenses still required beneficiary acknowledgment.
Both times Grant had smiled at me like a man waiting for someone to leave an elevator.
“Victor, do you have access to the contracts?”
“Some.”
“Do not send me anything.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
“I’ve worked in hotels for twenty-seven years, Mara.”
“I know.”
“I enjoy employment.”
That almost sounded like the old Victor.
Then he became serious again.
“There’s something else.”
I waited.
“Grant left before the gala ended.”
“When?”
“A few minutes after you.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“No.”
“Did anyone ask?”
“Your father did.”
“And?”
“Grant told him Celeste had asked him to handle something.”
The refrigerator compressor clicked off, leaving my apartment suddenly too quiet.
Someone knocked at my door again.
Not pounded.
Knocked.
Three measured taps.
Victor heard it through the phone.
“Is someone there?”
“Probably.”
“Mara, don’t open the door.”
I went to the peephole.
My father stood alone in the hallway.
He had taken off his tuxedo jacket.
His bow tie hung loose around his neck, and his white shirt looked gray under the fluorescent light.
He was holding something against his chest.
Not his heart.
A folder.
“Mara?”
His voice came through the door, tired rather than angry.
Victor spoke into my ear.
“Who is it?”
“My father.”
Victor went silent.
Dad knocked once more.
“I know you’re angry.”
I kept looking through the peephole.
He looked older than he had in the ballroom three hours earlier.
Not sick.
Just older.
“I deserve that,” he said.
I almost laughed because even now he could not say what he deserved.
Anger.
Humiliation.
Distrust.
Consequences.
He preferred pronouns vague enough to survive anything.
“I need to show you something.”
My eyes dropped to the folder in his hands.
“Mara, please.”
I unlocked the deadbolt but left the chain fastened.
The door opened three inches.
Dad looked at the gap, then at me.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
His jaw moved once.
He accepted it.
“What is it?”
He lifted the folder.
“Loan documents.”
“For the west tower?”
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“Victor called you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Dad looked down the hall.
“Can we not do this through a chained door?”
“We can.”
“Mara.”
“I’m comfortable with the door.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“You always were stubborn.”
“And you always called it stubborn when Mom agreed with me.”
That landed.
His hand fell.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
Somewhere upstairs, pipes groaned behind the walls.
Dad looked at the folder again.
“The bank paperwork isn’t what you think.”
“I don’t know what it is.”
“That’s what I’m trying to explain.”
“Then explain.”
He did not.
Instead, he asked, “Did you move the full reserve?”
“Yes.”
“Twenty-four million?”
“Yes.”
His eyes shut briefly.
“That account covered payroll liquidity.”
“No, it didn’t.”
His eyes opened.
“It was classified as operating reserve.”
“It was classified that way internally.”
“Mara, that money supports the property.”
“It supports the trust-owned property.”
“That distinction is meaningless when three hundred and twelve people expect paychecks.”
“It isn’t meaningless to whoever used trust assets as collateral without beneficiary consent.”
The hallway seemed to contract around him.
Dad looked at me without blinking.
I had guessed.
His face told me I had guessed correctly.
“Who told you that?”
“No one.”
“You just said—”
“I said without consent.”
His mouth opened, then closed.
I felt something inside me go cold.
“Dad.”
He looked away.
“What did you sign?”
“It’s complicated.”
“What did you sign?”
“Not here.”
“This is my home.”
“I mean not like this.”
May you like
“You came here.”
“I came because Celeste is panicking, the bank is panicking, the board is calling me every thirty seconds, and my daughter just transferred the foundation of the company because she was humiliated at a party.”
