Chương 6
Nora looked embarrassed. “I thought if Mr. Denning saw how you were treated, he might stay tomorrow instead of resigning tonight.”
“That was manipulative.”
“Yes.”
“You used my service record.”
“Yes.”
Thomas glanced at Evelyn, but she kept her eyes on Nora.
“Why not tell Arthur about the signature?”
“I tried. He said he wouldn’t discuss foundation documents with staff.”
That sounded like Arthur. Honorable in broad principle, hierarchical in practice.
Nora continued. “And I was afraid I’d lose my job before I could prove anything.”
“You may still lose it.”
“I know.”
The kitchen doors opened. A server emerged carrying empty plates. The three of them moved aside. He glanced at their faces and kept walking.
Evelyn rubbed her thumb over the edge of the shawl.
“Send the photograph to me and Thomas.”
“I can’t receive foundation evidence,” Thomas said. “Not unless there’s a law-enforcement request or official inquiry.”
Nora looked frightened.
“He’s right,” Evelyn said. “Send it to me. Keep the original file on your phone. Don’t edit it, crop it, or forward it anywhere else.”
Nora nodded.
“And the resignation packet?”
“In my locked drawer.”
“Leave it there.”
“What happens now?”
Evelyn looked through the narrow corridor window toward the ballroom. Richard stood near the fireplace speaking to two donors. Celeste was nowhere in sight.
“Now we finish the evening.”
Nora stared at her. “That’s all?”
“No. But it is what happens next.”
Thomas’s mouth moved as though he might object. He stopped himself.
Evelyn walked back into the ballroom.
The final guests left shortly after midnight.
Richard stood at the front entrance and thanked each of them by name. He did not mention the scars, the commendation, the broken glass, or the reduced auction totals. Celeste disappeared upstairs before the last car reached the circular drive.
Arthur Denning lingered.
He waited until Richard had gone into the library with the foundation treasurer, then approached Evelyn near the coatroom.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
“For what?”
“For applauding.”
She had not expected that.
He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. “It turned your pain into a public lesson. I was angry at Richard, and applause was the easiest way to show it.”
Evelyn studied him.
Arthur’s wife stood several feet away, speaking with Thomas. She wore a dark green coat and held both gloves in one hand.
“Thank you,” Evelyn said.
Arthur nodded. “I also owe you an answer. I did not approve reimbursement for the Tidewatch shoreline survey.”
“Nora showed you the briefing?”
“She asked me about it. I dismissed her.”
“She was trying to warn you.”
“I understand that now.”
“Will you be at the meeting?”
He looked toward the library doors.
“I submitted my resignation this afternoon.”
Evelyn felt a small drop in her stomach. Arthur’s vote had been one of the three likely to oppose Richard.
“Effective when?”
“Midnight.”
She checked the clock above the coatroom.
12:07.
“Can you withdraw it?”
“I could ask.”
“Will you?”
Arthur looked tired.
“My wife has wanted me off the board for two years. Richard treats disagreement as disloyalty. James was the only person who could make him reconsider without making him feel diminished.”
“James rarely made him reconsider.”
“No. But he made Richard pause. Sometimes that was enough.”
Evelyn folded her arms against the draft from the front door.
“Did James tell you about the commendation?”
“He asked me to support presenting it tonight.”
“Why?”
“He believed you would need credibility after he died.”
The sentence landed with the dull force of something she had already begun to suspect.
“He could have told me.”
“James avoided hard conversations when he feared the answer.”
“He inherited that.”
Arthur smiled without amusement.
Evelyn glanced toward Richard’s library. “Your resignation leaves the vote tied if I oppose the project.”
“Unless Richard appoints an interim trustee.”
“Can he?”
“With executive committee approval.”
“Celeste and Malcolm Sloane.”
Arthur nodded.
The foundation treasurer, Malcolm, had worked for Richard since Evelyn was in college. He would approve a live bear if Richard described it as a temporary governance measure.
Arthur took one hand from his pocket.
“There is something else. The shoreline reimbursements are not the largest concern.”
“What is?”
“Ask why the emergency reserve fell by four million dollars last March.”
Evelyn stared at him.
The emergency reserve supported families after maritime deaths, paid temporary housing costs following storms, and funded replacement gear for small operators whose insurance claims were delayed.
“I reviewed the March statements.”
“You reviewed the summary.”
“Where did the money go?”
“I asked James. He told me he was looking into it.”
“When?”
“Two weeks before he entered hospice.”
Evelyn’s skin went cold beneath the shawl.
Arthur looked ashamed. “I should have followed up.”
“Yes.”
His wife glanced toward them.
Arthur accepted the answer without defense.
“I’ll ask to withdraw my resignation,” he said. “Richard may refuse.”
“Come anyway.”
“To the board meeting?”
“As a donor. As a former trustee. As a man whose signature may have been used without permission.”
Arthur’s face hardened.
“I’ll come.”
After he left, Evelyn found Richard alone in the ballroom.
The staff had removed most of the glassware. Chairs stood crooked around half-cleared tables. The chandeliers had been dimmed, leaving the moonlit windows more visible. Richard was near the place where his flute had broken, looking down at a small shard the cleaners had missed.
Evelyn picked it up with a folded napkin.
“You’ll cut yourself,” he said.
“I didn’t.”
She placed the shard on a tray.
Richard watched her. Without the guests, his posture had changed. His shoulders seemed heavier. He had removed his bow tie and opened the top button of his shirt.
“Celeste told me it was an accident,” he said.
“It wasn’t.”
“I know.”
Evelyn waited.
He looked toward the empty head table.
May you like
“I should not have said what I said.”
The sentence lacked the shape of an apology but contained more effort than most of Richard’s apologies, which were usually delivered by other people.
