Part 3
“What does she mean?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Paul.”
“Not here.”
Lena picked up the blue folder and returned the document to it. Diane made no attempt to stop her this time.
Evan moved toward the table. “You’re going to call Feldman.”
“I already did. He’ll be here at nine tomorrow morning.”
“Here?”
“At the company.”
“You don’t have the authority to call meetings.”
“I do now.”
He stared at her.
The dryer buzzer sounded. All four of them startled, though no one admitted it.
Lena opened the dryer and took out a load of navy uniforms. Warm air rolled against her face. She placed the clothes in the plastic basket and began folding them.
Diane watched in disbelief. “What are you doing?”
“My job.”
“You’re folding laundry.”
“That is part of my job.”
“You own the company, apparently, and you’re folding laundry?”
Lena smoothed the front of a mechanic’s shirt and aligned the sleeves.
“That may be why Ruth trusted me.”
Diane’s face flushed.
Paul went outside without saying anything. The back door opened, then shut. Through the narrow window Lena saw him stand on the concrete step with his phone pressed to his ear.
Evan remained near the table.
“Did you know they were going to do this?” Lena asked.
He glanced toward the boxes.
“That’s not an answer.”
“They said it would be easier if your things were packed.”
“And you agreed.”
“We need space.”
“You need space, so I lose my home?”
“Until today, I thought it was my parents’ home.”
“You still let them pack my underwear.”
His face tightened. “Don’t make this ugly.”
Lena laughed once. She could not help it.
The sound held no humor, only disbelief.
Evan looked wounded by it. That almost made her angrier.
“I found your messages with your mother,” she said.
He looked toward Diane.
“Don’t,” Diane warned.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Evan put both hands on his hips. “What messages?”
“The ones about selling the company.”
Silence returned.
Diane’s voice became careful. “There is no sale.”
“Not yet.”
“You don’t understand business discussions.”
“I understand a letter of intent.”
Paul came back inside. He looked older than he had five minutes earlier.
“David’s on his way,” he said.
Lena glanced at the clock above the sink. “He lives forty minutes away.”
“He was downtown.”
“Why?”
Paul did not answer.
Diane folded her arms. “Good. We’ll settle this tonight.”
“No,” Paul said.
She turned. “What?”
“He said not to touch the document, not to move any money, and not to access the company system.”
Evan stared at him. “Why would he say that?”
“Because there’s been a notice filed.”
“What notice?”
Paul’s mouth went dry. Lena saw him swallow.
“A change of control.”
Diane’s composure finally broke. “You knew?”
“I received it this morning.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I thought it was another administrative form.”
“You knew her name was on it?”
“Yes.”
“And you still came here to throw her out?”
Paul looked at Lena then, and in his face she saw something more complicated than guilt. There was calculation, embarrassment, and a small stubborn hope that the day might still be repaired if everyone stopped speaking too honestly.
“I thought she had been made an officer,” he said.
“You thought I’d been made an officer,” Lena repeated, “and you decided to remove me from the house before asking why?”
Paul rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Evan looked between them. “What is happening?”
Nobody answered him.
For most of their marriage, he had been the person who knew. He knew what restaurant would have a table, which mechanic was overcharging, what route the company should assign to a new driver, how much they could afford, when a conversation was over. Lena watched him discover that the three people around him had all been living inside a story he had not been told.
The discovery did not make him humble.
It made him furious.
He pointed at the blue folder. “Give me that.”
“No.”
“I’m entitled to see it.”
“You’ve seen it.”
“I need a copy.”
“Mr. Feldman can provide one.”
“You don’t get to control information about my family.”
“Your family controlled information about mine.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I was your wife this morning. By four o’clock, my life was in boxes.”
His face flickered.
Diane stepped closer to him. “Don’t let her turn this into something emotional.”
Lena looked at her. “You folded my bras.”
Diane’s lips parted, then closed.
Paul sat on the wooden bench near the door. His knees spread under his weight. He stared at the floor between his shoes.
“Call the buyer,” he said.
Diane went still.
Evan looked at him. “What buyer?”
Paul lifted his head toward his wife. “Tell Carson the meeting is canceled.”
Diane’s voice dropped. “Not until we know whether this is valid.”
“Cancel it.”
“We’ll lose the terms.”
“There are no terms if we don’t own the shares.”
Evan turned to his mother. “You told me the discussions were preliminary.”
“They are.”
“You have a meeting?”
“It was exploratory.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Where?”
Diane’s silence answered him.
Lena folded the last shirt in the basket.
A car pulled into the driveway twenty-three minutes later. No one had left the laundry room. They had moved only slightly, as people do in hospitals when waiting for news. Diane sat rigidly on the bench beside Paul but did not look at him. Evan stood by the window. Lena had returned the blue folder to the table and placed her palm over it.
David Feldman entered through the back door without knocking.
He was seventy-one, narrow-shouldered, and dressed in a gray suit that looked as though it had been slept in. Rain had darkened one shoulder, though the sky outside Lena’s window remained clear. It took her a moment to realize the dampness was sweat.
May you like
He looked first at Paul, then Diane, then Evan, and finally Lena.
“I asked everyone to wait until tomorrow,” he said.
