Chương 5
“And the lender’s collateral issue is real.”
“Yes.”
“And Denver is real.”
“Yes.”
He looked almost relieved.
Eleanor watched him find hope in her agreement.
Then she said, “None of that made my signature yours.”
His face closed.
Claire sat beside her mother.
“What happens now?”
Eleanor looked at the folder.
“I don’t know.”
Grant laughed once.
“There it is.”
Claire turned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the person everyone expects to have an answer doesn’t have one.”
Eleanor met his eyes.
“You seem pleased.”
“I’m not pleased. I’m exhausted.”
“Good. We have something in common.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
For a moment he looked younger than forty-three.
“I have spent fourteen months bringing her options,” he said to Claire. “Every time, there’s another reason to wait. Interest rates. Labor. The market. Daniel’s legacy. Your father’s memory. Some maintenance manager who’s worked here since 1998 and doesn’t want his department moved. Meanwhile, cash keeps bleeding.”
Eleanor felt the words land.
Some were unfair.
Not all.
Grant looked at her.
“You want to know why Northstar is at fifty-one now? Because twenty percent was worth doing six months ago. It isn’t enough anymore.”
“You should have brought me that problem.”
“I did.”
“You brought me forecasts. You did not bring me a proposal to lose control.”
“Because I knew what you’d say.”
“There’s your answer.”
“No. There’s yours.”
Claire looked from one to the other.
Eleanor felt the old temptation to win.
Grant had challenged her competence. She could list every profitable decision he had opposed, every debt she had retired, every expansion he had predicted would fail.
She could beat him with history.
Daniel had taught her how.
When cornered, bury the other person under everything you had survived before they arrived.
It was satisfying.
It was also how old companies died.
Eleanor reached for the cash forecast on her phone.
“Why is Denver twelve million over?”
Grant stared at her.
“What?”
“You said twelve. I’ve been using nine.”
Claire looked confused.
Grant slowly sat back.
“The lease guarantees and delayed equipment financing.”
“I thought the equipment notes were separate.”
“They were. Then the vendor changed terms.”
“When?”
“March.”
“Why didn’t finance committee show that inside project cost?”
“Because technically it isn’t construction cost.”
“So my number was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“Did you correct me?”
“I’ve been correcting you for six months.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Grant looked down.
“No.”
“Why?”
His answer came quietly.
“Because you hate being corrected in front of the board.”
Claire glanced at her mother.
Eleanor felt heat rise into her face.
It was childish.
That made it worse.
She sat with the embarrassment instead of denying it.
“All right,” she said.
Grant looked up.
“All right what?”
“You should have corrected me.”
He blinked.
Claire’s expression changed too.
Eleanor put both hands on the table.
“That does not excuse tonight. But if we’re going to figure out whether this company is in danger, I don’t want anyone protecting me from numbers because I get unpleasant.”
Grant opened his mouth, then stopped.
Marcus’s radio clicked.
He listened.
“Storm cell’s slowing. Road closure likely through morning.”
Claire looked toward the windows.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, ma’am.”
Grant checked his phone again.
“I need to get to Denver.”
Marcus said, “Not by road.”
“I know that.”
“Not by air either.”
“I know that too.”
Marcus’s face remained neutral.
Grant shoved the phone into his coat.
Eleanor almost smiled.
It was an indecent impulse, and she suppressed it.
Claire noticed anyway.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mom.”
“Nothing useful.”
For a few seconds, absurdly, Claire’s mouth twitched.
Then she looked down and the smile disappeared.
Eleanor wondered how long Grant had been lying to her.
Not about the company.
About other things.
She did not ask.
Not yet.
Marcus brought coffee without being told. He put four cups on the table, black, cream and sugar arranged beside them.
Grant looked at his.
“You remember?”
Marcus shrugged.
“You’ve been here a lot.”
Grant took the cup.
“Thanks.”
It was such an ordinary exchange that Eleanor almost resented it.
People wanted wrongdoers to become wrong in every direction. They wanted the man who forged signatures to also kick dogs, insult waiters, forget birthdays, and take his coffee in some obnoxious manner.
Grant thanked security officers. He tipped line crews. He called mechanics by name.
He had also knocked a folder from a sixty-eight-year-old woman’s hands and tried to use her signature to transfer control of her company.
Both things could be true.
That was the trouble.
Claire turned the old photograph over.
“What does the date say?”
Eleanor looked.
“October seventeenth, 1999.”
“That’s when you bought it?”
“Closing day.”
Claire ran a finger under Daniel’s handwriting.
HE FINALLY RETIRED. GOD HELP HER.
She let out a startled laugh.
Eleanor smiled despite herself.
“That sounds like him.”
“He wrote this?”
“Yes.”
“I thought Grandpa Daniel was terrifying.”
“He was.”
“You’re smiling.”
“He was also occasionally funny.”
Grant looked at the photograph but said nothing.
Claire studied her mother’s younger face.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me what it cost you?”
Eleanor took a sip of coffee.
It was too hot.
“I told you parts.”
“No. Dad told stories about flying freight and sleeping in hangars. Grandpa told everyone he built Hayes from nothing. You always said you handled the business.”
“I did.”
“That sounds like bookkeeping.”
Eleanor looked at her.
“I was a bookkeeper.”
“You know what I mean.”
Yes.
She did.
There were some erasures you helped perform yourself because correcting them every time was exhausting.
Robert had never deliberately diminished her. He had loved telling people Eleanor was smarter than he was.
But he told the funny stories.
Daniel told the heroic ones.
Eleanor handled payroll, debt, insurance, leases, acquisitions, regulators, layoffs, lawsuits, and three recessions.
Over time, “handled the business” had become the quiet part.
“I should have told you better,” she said.
Claire looked down at the photograph.
May you like
Grant stared into his coffee.
At 12:26 a.m., Lydia called again with outside counsel, Miriam Holt, on the line.
