Chương 7
“I thought he was being Richard.”
“What does that mean?”
“Arrogant. Curious. Intrusive.”
“That’s a lot of bad behavior to classify as personality.”
“Yes.”
Victoria did not defend herself.
It made Claire more willing to listen.
“Did Daniel marry me for money?”
Victoria closed her eyes briefly.
“I don’t believe so.”
“That is not very persuasive.”
“I know.”
“You’re his mother.”
“Yes.”
“You want to believe him.”
“Yes.”
Claire appreciated the answer.
Victoria added, “But I also watched my son become someone more cautious around money after he joined Richard full-time. He started asking what things cost. Not because he cared about the price. Because he cared about whether people could afford to lose them.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Victoria looked at her.
“I am trying not to tell you a comforting story because I love him.”
Claire’s throat tightened unexpectedly.
That was the first thing anyone had said all day that felt kind.
Not reassuring.
Kind.
Claire nodded.
“Thank you.”
Three days after the wedding, the independent handwriting examiner retained by Cole Holdings concluded that the signature on the deed had most likely been digitally reproduced from a genuine signature source rather than written by Claire on the original.
The notary block created another problem.
The notary, a contract employee who occasionally worked from Richard’s offices, had certified that Claire appeared before her on a Tuesday afternoon when Claire had been in Philadelphia for a museum board meeting.
There were photographs of Claire at the meeting.
A parking receipt.
A calendar entry.
A hotel charge.
None of those alone proved everything.
Together, they made the notary certification difficult to explain.
The notary hired a lawyer.
The escrow firm suspended the file.
The lender froze the proposed extension.
Mercer Development missed a payment five days later.
That was when the scandal stopped being entertaining.
Two projects halted.
Contractors began calling.
Employees started hearing rumors.
A receptionist at Mercer Development had a husband who worked for one of the electrical subcontractors. By the end of the week, both were wondering whether they would be paid.
Claire read about them in an article while eating cereal at Arthur’s house.
She put the spoon down.
Arthur sat across the kitchen table reading financial statements.
“If they collapse,” she said, “how many people get hurt?”
He did not pretend not to understand.
“A lot.”
“Can we help without helping Richard?”
Arthur looked at her over his glasses.
“Possibly.”
“How?”
“We could acquire assets if they enter a restructuring.”
“That sounds like helping ourselves.”
“It can be both.”
Claire frowned.
Arthur returned to the page.
“You asked for a way to protect jobs without protecting Richard Mercer. There is no clean version. Someone will gain leverage. Someone will lose it.”
“I hate when you sound reasonable.”
“So did your mother.”
Claire looked at him.
Arthur’s mouth moved slightly.
Not quite a smile.
They had been living together for five days.
It was not going well.
Arthur liked breakfast at six thirty.
Claire considered eight o’clock a moral minimum.
He watched cable business news too loudly.
She left water glasses in rooms.
He believed anything placed on a staircase should be carried upstairs immediately.
Claire had spent two consecutive days walking past a stack of mail on the third step just to irritate him.
Neither mentioned it.
Ordinary resentment helped.
It gave them something to feel besides betrayal.
Daniel remained at a hotel.
They communicated through lawyers regarding the marriage.
Claire had not yet filed for divorce.
That surprised everyone, including Claire.
She was not reconsidering.
She was waiting until she understood what had happened.
There was a difference.
On the sixth day, Daniel’s attorney requested a private meeting.
Claire agreed on three conditions.
It would take place at Marisol’s office.
Both lawyers would be present.
No one would record the conversation except through written notes agreed by counsel.
Daniel accepted.
When Claire entered the conference room, he stood.
He had lost weight.
The observation annoyed her.
She did not want his suffering to make him more sympathetic.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
They sat.
For ten minutes, attorneys discussed boundaries.
Then Claire asked the question she had been carrying since the ballroom.
“When did you first know your father wanted my property?”
Daniel looked at his lawyer.
The lawyer nodded.
“Early May.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought I could stop him.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It was my answer.”
Claire waited.
Daniel rubbed his thumb along the edge of a legal pad.
“If I told you, you would have told Arthur.”
“Probably.”
“My father’s lenders would have heard within days.”
“Maybe.”
“Arthur cannot whisper. His whispers have bankers.”
Claire almost smiled.
She hated that too.
Daniel saw it and looked away.
“My father asked whether Beacon could support a temporary facility. I told him no. He said I was answering personally instead of professionally.”
“What does that mean?”
“He meant I was protecting you.”
“You say that like it’s embarrassing.”
“I was angry at him.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you keep helping?”
Daniel leaned back.
His face looked older.
“Because the company was failing.”
“You could have told me that.”
“I was ashamed.”
Claire studied him.
That answer felt more honest than the others.
“Of failing?”
“Of needing you.”
A quiet settled over the table.
Daniel looked at his hands.
“When we met, I thought the Mercers and the Coles were basically the same.”
Claire raised an eyebrow.
“I know. Idiotic.”
“Very.”
“My family had money. Your family had more. We both grew up around private schools and people who used summer as a verb.”
Despite herself, Claire laughed once.
Daniel did not.
“Then I joined the company. I saw the debt. I saw how much of our life was built on things being refinanced at the right time. Richard never lied about success. He just never talked about what it cost to keep success looking permanent.”
Claire thought of Victoria.
May you like
“Go on.”
“By last year, I knew we were overextended. By January, I knew we had a serious problem. By April, I knew we might lose control.”
