Chương 12
“Maybe they should.”
“The financing expires in three weeks.”
“Then you should have disclosed the conflict months ago.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer, then stopped before she could move away.
“I will tell the board myself.”
Catherine studied him.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Everything?”
“The relationship. The recordings. The retaliation allegation.”
“And the statement you had me sign.”
He looked toward the street.
“Michael.”
“Yes.”
The answer came reluctantly enough to be true.
“Why now?”
“Because if you do it first, I lose any chance to show I’m taking responsibility.”
There it was again: remorse and strategy sharing the same body.
Catherine nodded.
“Do it by noon.”
“You’re giving me a deadline?”
“Yes.”
“What happens at noon?”
“I correct my statement.”
He stared at her.
“You’ve already decided.”
“No. I decided what happens if you don’t.”
For the first time since the hospital, something like respect moved across his face. It did not make her feel better.
He picked up the bakery bag and held it out again.
“They had one almond croissant left.”
Catherine took it.
The gesture was ridiculous. It was also familiar. Michael had brought her almond croissants after their first major fight, after her grandmother’s funeral, and once after forgetting their anniversary. He had always believed food could occupy the space where language failed.
She hated that she still wanted it.
“I want to see Eleanor tomorrow,” he said.
“Four o’clock.”
“I have the board.”
“Then five.”
“I’ll be there.”
He walked toward his car.
At the sidewalk, he turned.
“I never stopped loving you.”
Catherine stood beneath the porch light with the paper bag warm in her hand.
“I know,” she said.
That was the tragedy.
Michael disclosed the relationship to the board at eleven twenty the next morning.
Martin Vale called Catherine at eleven forty-six.
He did not begin with condolences or apologies.
“What the hell is happening?”
Catherine sat in Leah’s dining room, watching Eleanor sleep in the portable bassinet.
“You should ask Michael.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He said he exercised poor judgment in a personal relationship.”
“That sounds like Michael.”
“He said you may amend your shareholder disclosure.”
“I will.”
Martin breathed heavily into the phone. He had been Michael’s partner for fifteen years and Catherine’s friend for nearly as long. He had danced badly at their wedding and held her purse when she climbed onto a chair to adjust a crooked floral arrangement.
“Do you understand what that does?” he asked.
“It tells the truth.”
“It tells Carson there may be undisclosed risk.”
“There is undisclosed risk.”
“We can manage Amber.”
The sentence made Catherine’s skin crawl.
“She isn’t a weather problem.”
“She’s threatening four hundred jobs.”
“Michael created the situation.”
“I’m not defending him.”
“You’re calling me.”
“Because you own twelve percent, and because you’re smarter than blowing up a company to punish your husband.”
Catherine looked at the bassinet.
“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?”
“I think you gave birth two days ago. I think you’re hurt. I think Amber knows exactly how to use that.”
“Did Michael tell you I was hurt?”
“He didn’t have to.”
“Did he tell you he had me sign without disclosing the affair?”
Martin was silent.
“Did he tell you he knew I was being induced and stayed at the hotel?”
“This is not my business.”
“You made it your business when you called.”
Another silence.
Then Martin’s voice softened.
“I’m sorry he wasn’t there.”
Catherine almost accepted the sentence.
Martin added, “But companies don’t survive if personal pain drives corporate decisions.”
She looked down at Eleanor, whose tiny face tightened in sleep as though she were considering an objection.
“Then perhaps the chief executive should have kept his affair out of corporate decisions.”
Martin exhaled.
“Correct your statement if you need to. But don’t release the recordings.”
“I haven’t threatened to.”
“Amber will.”
“That is between the company and Amber.”
“No, Catherine. It’s between all of us now.”
After the call, Catherine ate the almond croissant over the kitchen sink. It had gone stale overnight. Flakes fell onto the counter and stuck to the sleeve of her robe.
She ate the entire thing.
At noon, Ruth sent the amended disclosure.
The board postponed the vote.
By two, Michael’s name appeared in an industry newsletter. The item contained no mention of the affair, only that Harrison Vale had delayed a major transaction while reviewing an internal governance matter.
By three, two employees texted Catherine.
One wrote: Is everything okay?
The other wrote: Thinking of you and the baby.
Catherine answered neither.
At five, Michael arrived for his visit.
He looked as though he had not slept. He carried no gifts.
Leah let him inside.
Catherine sat on the sofa with Eleanor.
“You amended it,” he said.
“You disclosed.”
“I told you I would.”
“I told you what I would do.”
“Martin thinks Carson may walk.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
He removed his coat and placed it over a chair.
“May I hold her?”
Catherine handed him the baby.
He sat and settled Eleanor more confidently than before. He had watched videos, she could tell. One hand supported the baby’s neck correctly. The other rested across her back.
“She makes this face before she sneezes,” Catherine said.
Michael looked down.
Eleanor wrinkled her nose, opened her mouth, and sneezed once.
He smiled.
The smile lasted only a second before grief returned.
“I missed everything.”
“You missed two days.”
“I missed the first breath.”
Catherine said nothing.
He looked at her. “Was she okay?”
The question arrived late, but it arrived.
“No.”
Michael’s arms tightened slightly around the baby.
“What happened?”
“The monitor changed. Daniel said they needed to move quickly. There were six people in the room, then more. I kept asking whether she was alive.”
His face drained.
“She didn’t cry right away,” Catherine continued. “It was probably only seconds. It didn’t feel like seconds.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Who would have?”
May you like
He lowered his head.
Eleanor’s small hand opened against his sweater.
