Chapter 12: The Scorecard

The shareholder dinner was held in the ballroom of the Drake, on a Friday night, on Leon's thirty-fifth birthday.

A hundred and four people sat at round tables under a ceiling of gold leaf.

Nobody had mentioned the cake.

I sat beside Leon at the head table in the green dress from the gala.

I wore his mother's ring and had no notebook in my bag.

I'd spent three days trying to decide what I would say if Reginald stood up and asked me.

I had four speeches.

I had thrown out three.

Reginald rose after the salad.

He tapped his glass, and the room hushed.

"Friends," he said. "Colleagues. Thank you all for coming on a night of celebration."

He gave a thin smile.

"My nephew turns thirty-five today."

"His father's will required him to be in a real marriage on this date."

"So tonight I think we're entitled to ask one small question."

"Sit down, Reginald," Leon said, pleasantly.

"I will, when your wife has answered it."

All the faces turned to me.

"Mrs. Merrick," Reginald said. "You told the press you signed a contract."

"You told two members of this board you refused eight million dollars. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Why did you refuse?"

"It wasn't enough."

A laugh went through the room.

Reginald waited for it to pass.

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