Chương 6
No one spoke.
Eleanor disliked admitting fault in groups.
She disliked it so much her palms were damp.
“Is that what you wanted?” she asked.
Adrian shook his head.
“I don’t know what I want.”
It was the first useful thing he had said all night.
Priya closed her folder.
“Then we need to deal with what happened, not what everyone wishes happened.”
She looked toward Denise.
Denise explained the risk.
Two shareholders had received Adrian’s communications. One had forwarded them. At least one reporter had asked Sterling Hospitality’s communications office whether a leadership change was imminent. Because the company carried substantial institutional investment through private funds and debt partnerships, false representations about governance could create contractual and reputational problems even if they did not meet the standard for any legal violation.
Adrian listened.
He interrupted twice.
The first time to say he never claimed to be authorized.
The second time to point out that he had accurately predicted board dissatisfaction with Eleanor’s concentration of power.
Priya corrected him.
“There is concern about succession planning. That is not the same as dissatisfaction with Eleanor.”
“It should be.”
“Maybe. But that is my opinion, not a fact you were entitled to represent as board intent.”
Walter rubbed his thumb over the edge of the table.
Eleanor noticed.
He did that when he was nervous.
She remembered him doing it eighteen years earlier in a lender meeting, when David had promised renovation costs would come in under budget and Eleanor kicked him beneath the table.
Walter caught her looking.
For one second, both of them almost smiled.
Then Adrian said, “So what happens?”
Denise folded her hands.
“We ask you to send corrections to the people you contacted, clarifying that you were speaking personally and had no authority to represent board decisions.”
“And if I don’t?”
Harold answered.
“Then the company publicly corrects the record.”
Adrian stared at him.
“You’d publicly call me a liar.”
“No,” Harold said. “We’d state the truth.”
“That’s the same thing in better stationery.”
Lawrence coughed into his fist.
Eleanor glanced at him.
He raised both hands.
“Sorry.”
Even Adrian smiled for half a second.
The tension loosened.
Then Eleanor made the decision that changed the direction of the night.
“No public statement,” she said.
Priya turned.
“Eleanor.”
“Not unless we have to.”
Denise frowned.
“We may have to.”
“I know.”
Adrian watched her with suspicion.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
“There is always a catch.”
“The company will correct the record if shareholders or media require it. But if you send the corrections tonight, and if no inaccurate story publishes, I’m asking the board not to name you.”
“Why?”
“Because humiliating you does not protect the company.”
His eyes moved toward the clutch.
“You think I humiliated you.”
“You did.”
He looked away.
Eleanor continued.
“That doesn’t mean I need to do it back.”
Walter exhaled quietly.
Adrian sat down.
“What about the board position?”
“There is no board position for you.”
His face closed again.
“I see.”
“No. Listen to the whole sentence.”
He looked at her.
“There is no board position for you now. Walter believes there may be a path back to the company. I was not aware he had approached you, but I’m willing to discuss it.”
Walter shifted.
Eleanor held up a hand.
“Not tonight. And not as executive vice chair. You would report to someone who can fire you.”
Adrian laughed incredulously.
“Fire me.”
“Yes.”
“From my family company.”
“From a job.”
He leaned back.
“And if I say no?”
“Then say no.”
The simplicity of it landed harder than a threat.
For years Adrian had believed Eleanor was blocking a door he was destined to enter.
Now she was telling him the door existed but did not belong to him.
“What happens to my shares?”
“Nothing.”
“My trust?”
“Nothing.”
“My name?”
Eleanor looked at him.
“Also nothing.”
His throat moved.
The room was silent enough to hear a cart rolling in the hallway.
Adrian lowered his eyes.
“I shouldn’t have kicked your bag.”
“No.”
“I was angry.”
“I noticed.”
He almost smiled.
She did not rescue him from the apology.
After a few seconds, he said, “I’m sorry.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Thank you.”
He looked up.
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
The answer seemed to disappoint him.
Perhaps he wanted forgiveness to be larger. Perhaps he wanted punishment. Either would have given the moment shape.
Instead there was only damage and six adults in a beige meeting room trying to decide what to do next.
Denise slid a laptop toward Adrian.
“I drafted a correction.”
He read it.
“No.”
“Which part?”
“All of it sounds like a hostage statement.”
“It sounds like a lawyer wrote it.”
“You are a lawyer.”
“That has never stopped anyone from complaining.”
He changed three sentences.
Denise changed two back.
They argued over the phrase “personal interpretation.”
Priya suggested “personal view.”
Lawrence wanted another cookie.
For twenty minutes, the catastrophic night became administrative.
Eleanor found this oddly comforting.
Real consequences were usually tedious.
Adrian finally sent the messages.
One reporter responded almost immediately.
Thanks for clarifying. Had heard otherwise from another source. Will hold.
Adrian read the line twice.
“Another source.”
Denise looked at him.
“Who else did you tell?”
“No one.”
“Vanessa?”
He hesitated.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“Adrian.”
“I told her what Walter said.”
“That there was no board decision?”
“No. Before that.”
“What exactly?”
He pushed the laptop away.
“I told her I thought the board was going to make changes.”
Denise took out her phone.
“Did she contact media?”
“I don’t know.”
“She knows people.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I said I don’t know.”
Eleanor looked at the door.
Vanessa was still outside somewhere in the hotel.
Possibly at the bar.
Possibly gone.
Possibly explaining the entire event to someone with a media contact and excellent lighting.
May you like
Thomas spoke for the first time in several minutes.
“I can find Ms. Cole.”
