Chapter 5: The Heir

Monday morning, Pinnacle's whole board came to a hotel restaurant because the office was a mess.

The dispatch system was still down.

Walter Fenn had called me at seven and asked me to meet them there, "as a courtesy."

I knew what that meant.

He wanted me in the room where they would finally beg.

I wore the navy dress, the one I'd worn to my father's funeral.

I took a table by the window and ordered coffee.

Bryce arrived with Kendra on his arm, and a hush rolled over the other diners.

News of the license had already leaked into the trade papers.

He walked to the center of the restaurant and lifted both arms.

"Everyone, I have good news!"

His voice carried.

"My wife and I may be parting, but I'm happy to say that Pinnacle is about to grow. Kendra and I are expecting."

He kissed Kendra's cheek.

Several board members clapped, uneasily.

A man at the next table said, "Well, that's a relief," and I understood.

The IPO vote was twelve days away.

Investors liked a founder with roots, and a baby was the best roots money could buy.

Bryce met my eyes across the room, and for one second the old panic showed.

Then he buried it under a grin.

Marjorie Landry crossed the floor toward me with her pearls shining.

She was sixty-two, and she carried herself like the last queen of a very small country.

"Odessa. Walk with me."

"I'm having coffee."

"It isn't a request."

She sat down opposite me anyway, and a waiter appeared with a glass of water she hadn't ordered.

She waited until he left.

"My son is a sentimental fool," she said. "I am not."

"I noticed."

"You have caused a great deal of trouble for a girl with no family."

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