Part 4
The door opened behind her. A nurse looked between them and told Evelyn that Reed was asking for his cane.
“It’s in the room,” Evelyn said.
“He says that is not the cane he means.”
The nurse stared.
Evelyn closed her eyes briefly. “He means Adrian Vale.”
Reed’s hospital room smelled faintly of plastic and burnt coffee. He sat propped against two pillows, his weathered face pale beneath the fluorescent lights. His olive ceremonial jacket hung over a chair. Without the medals, he seemed less like a figure from a portrait and more like an exhausted old man who had lost an argument with the floor.
His cane leaned against the bed.
“You look terrible,” Reed told Adrian.
“So do you.”
“Good. We’ve established honesty.”
Evelyn took the visitor’s chair. Adrian remained standing.
Reed looked at the empty space on Adrian’s lapel. “Where’s the ribbon?”
“In my pocket.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t feel like wearing it.”
“That’s the first sensible use anyone has made of it.”
Adrian glanced at Evelyn. “You asked for me?”
“I asked for the cane. They brought me this one.” Reed touched the wooden shaft beside the bed. “Then I asked for you.”
“Why?”
“Because tomorrow Gordon will tell you that signing quickly is the only way to contain the damage.”
“He already said that.”
“He’s getting predictable.”
“Did you know about his ownership stake?”
“I suspected. Evelyn found the filing.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before the gala?”
“I tried to see you three times.”
“You sent letters to the office.”
“That is how adults request meetings.”
“You also called my assistant a velvet rope with a calendar.”
“She earned it.”
Despite himself, Adrian nearly smiled. The impulse irritated him.
Reed’s eyes sharpened. “I did not come tonight to make you look like a fool.”
“You came during my announcement.”
“I came before it. Gordon kept me in the library for forty minutes, telling me the board packet was delayed. By the time I reached the hall, you were walking toward the stage.”
“You could have waited.”
“Until after you told four hundred people the sale was complete?”
“You could have called Evelyn.”
“I did.”
Evelyn said, “My plane landed at eleven minutes past nine.”
Adrian pictured her entering through the crowd with the folder. “You arrived prepared.”
“Samuel sent the documents yesterday.”
“So this was planned.”
“Research was planned,” Evelyn said. “His fall was not.”
Reed rubbed his thumb against the smooth handle of the cane. “I made the mistake of assuming your embarrassment would matter less to you than the foundation.”
“It matters to the bank,” Adrian said. “It matters to the two hundred people employed at Vale properties. It matters to the contractors we owe. You think this is a vanity project because my name is on a rendering. The house is leveraged. The company is leveraged. If the harbor deal fails, the lender can accelerate both loans.”
Reed watched him without interruption.
Adrian went on because stopping would have made the admission worse. “The foundation gets a new center. The company gets a development project. The mansion survives. People keep their jobs. That is not theft.”
“No,” Reed said. “It is desperation wearing a bow tie.”
Adrian turned toward the door.
“Sit down,” Reed said.
“I didn’t come here to be insulted.”
“You came because I’m the only man in the city who can say you didn’t push me.”
Adrian stopped.
Reed nodded toward the second chair. “Sit.”
Adrian sat.
For a while the room contained only the sound of the heating vent and the distant wheels of a cart moving through the corridor. Reed closed his eyes. Adrian wondered whether he had fallen asleep.
Then Reed said, “Your father used to arrive at Harbor House before board meetings and tighten every loose screw he could find. Cabinet hinges. Bed frames. Door handles. It drove the maintenance man insane.”
Adrian looked at him.
“He never told you that?”
“No.”
“He also tried to put his name on the building.”
“That sounds more familiar.”
“I told him no.”
“What did he do?”
“Sulled for six months. Then he paid for the roof anyway.”
Adrian folded his hands between his knees. “I’m not my father.”
“No.”
The word carried neither praise nor condemnation. It landed heavily because Adrian could not decide which he preferred.
Reed opened his eyes. “I will tell the truth about the fall. I will not tell people you shoved me because you did not. But I will also tell them you ordered your men to keep me from the stage.”
“Nolan was supposed to avoid a disruption.”
“You made me the disruption before I entered the room.”
“You were trying to stop the announcement.”
“Yes.”
“You see no contradiction?”
“I see several. Age has not cured me of them.”
Evelyn leaned back in her chair. “The board meets at ten. No transfer is signed until the conflict is reviewed.”
Adrian looked at the cream folder. “And if the delay triggers default?”
“Then you deal with the consequences of the structure you agreed to,” she said.
“You say that as though consequences don’t land on employees.”
“They do. That is why you should have told the foundation the truth about your deadline.”
“It was in the financial summary.”
“It was called a projected liquidity concern.”
Gordon’s phrase.
Adrian stood. “I need the security footage reviewed by someone independent.”
“I agree,” Evelyn said.
“I need Reed to make a statement that I didn’t touch him.”
Reed studied him. “What will you say?”
“That the incident is under review.”
“That is nothing.”
“It is accurate.”
“It is cowardly.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “You want an apology before anyone knows what happened.”
“I know what you said after I fell.”
May you like
The room went quiet.
Adrian could have apologized then. The word reached the back of his throat and stopped. He imagined the statement clipped, reposted, interpreted as an admission of assault. He imagined Gordon telling the bank that Vale Coastal’s CEO had compromised himself. He imagined two hundred employees reading headlines at breakfast.
