Chương 10
The mediator, a retired judge named Miriam Feld, began by saying no one would receive everything they wanted.
Arthur looked thinner than he had at the notary office. His tuxedo and overcoat had been replaced by a navy suit. Without the ballroom lighting, the gray in his hair seemed nearly white.
He did not look at Dianne until the attorneys finished their opening positions.
Then he said, “I would like five minutes with my daughter.”
Samuel started to object.
Dianne said, “He can speak here.”
Arthur’s attorney touched his sleeve, but Arthur moved his hand away.
“The company will default on two major obligations by August if the estate litigation continues,” he said.
The mediator raised a finger. “Mr. Reed, direct statements should come through counsel.”
“I’m speaking as a father.”
Dianne looked at him. “That has not improved your accuracy.”
His mouth tightened.
One of his attorneys whispered, “Arthur.”
He ignored him.
“The brownstone can support a credit facility without being sold,” he said. “You would retain beneficial ownership.”
“You tried to transfer it to Reed Holdings.”
“To obtain financing.”
“Without telling me.”
“I believed Voss had poisoned any chance of a rational conversation.”
Samuel’s expression remained neutral.
Dianne leaned back. “So you found Mara.”
“Celia found Mara.”
“You watched her practice my signature.”
Arthur’s eyes shifted toward his lawyer.
That was answer enough.
The mediator said, “We are not here to obtain admissions in a criminal matter.”
“No,” Dianne said. “We’re here because he wants the house.”
Arthur looked at her for a long time.
“I want to keep the company alive,” he said.
“And if you have to use my name?”
“I made a decision under pressure.”
“You keep saying that like pressure chooses for you.”
Something moved across his face. Anger first. Then fatigue.
“Your mother understood what was at stake,” he said.
“My mother hid records from you.”
“She was ill.”
“She was still allowed to disagree.”
“She was frightened.”
“So was I.”
The sentence left Dianne before she had decided to speak it.
The room went quiet.
Arthur’s gaze lowered.
For the first time since the notary office, she saw not calculation but memory. The sidewalk outside the brownstone. Her suitcase. The doorman staring at the floor. Arthur telling her that failure had consequences. Celia standing behind him, one hand crossed over the other.
Dianne’s voice became less steady.
“You told me I had lied about West Point. You cancelled my cards. You took my phone from the family plan. You gave me one hour to pack while my mother’s clothes were still in the closets.”
“You broke a glass at Celia.”
“I broke it against a door.”
“You threatened her.”
“I said I would prove what she did.”
“You were out of control.”
“I was eighteen.”
“You were dangerous.”
Dianne’s chair scraped backward.
Samuel said her name quietly.
She remained seated.
Arthur rubbed his thumb against his index finger.
“I expected you to call,” he said.
Dianne stared at him.
“What?”
“I expected you to call after a night or two.”
“You blocked my number.”
“Celia handled the accounts.”
“You watched me leave.”
“I thought you would go to Voss.”
“I didn’t know Samuel knew about the acceptance.”
“You always had people.”
The simplicity of it stunned her.
Arthur had thrown her into the street because he believed someone else would catch her. He had transformed abandonment into a test of the safety net he resented.
“I slept in a shelter,” she said.
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But he had not known.
Dianne felt no satisfaction.
“You told Colonel Ames you were staying with a friend,” Arthur said.
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought he would report it to you.”
“I would have—”
“What?”
He stopped.
No one in the room moved.
The mediator removed her glasses and cleaned them with the edge of a legal pad.
Arthur looked down at his hands. “I would not have let you remain there.”
“You let me go.”
“That is not the same.”
“It was the same bed.”
His attorney requested a break.
In the hallway, Dianne walked past the elevators and into the stairwell. Samuel followed but stayed near the door.
She gripped the railing.
“I lost my temper.”
“Yes.”
“I should not have mentioned the shelter.”
“It was relevant.”
“He didn’t know.”
“No.”
“I wanted him to know.”
“Yes.”
She turned on Samuel. “Stop agreeing with me.”
“I can disagree if you prefer.”
“He looked—”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Samuel rested one hand on the rail. “Your father is capable of loving you and harming you. The first does not erase the second. The second does not prove the first never existed. That is why this is difficult.”
Dianne looked down through the center of the stairwell.
“What if the company fails?”
“People will suffer.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of decisions made over years by many people.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only honest one.”
The mediation ended without agreement.
Arthur offered to relinquish all claims to the brownstone if Dianne supported a limited refinancing secured by part of the property’s value. Samuel advised against it until the company’s finances were fully disclosed. Arthur refused full disclosure.
Two weeks later, Reed Development missed a payment.
The board removed Arthur as chief executive.
News crews gathered outside company headquarters. Employees received notices that a hotel division might be sold. A project manager who had worked for Arthur twenty-seven years gave an interview calling Dianne selfish. Another employee said Arthur had hidden losses for months and used family loyalty to silence questions.
Dianne watched neither interview in full.
A woman named Patricia Long called the studio one evening. She had been Arthur’s executive assistant for twelve years.
“He paid my husband’s medical bills,” Patricia said without introduction. “When our insurance denied treatment.”
Dianne sat at the table.
“I’m glad he helped you.”
“He did things like that.”
“I believe you.”
May you like
“He also asked me to delete calendar entries.”
Dianne’s hand stilled.
