Chapter 7: The Board Meeting

On Monday morning I printed five years of bank statements at Dennis's kitchen table.

It took most of the paper in the house.

I highlighted one line on every page in yellow.

"You know you're supposed to be on bed rest," Dennis said, holding the folder while I put on my coat.

"My pressure is one-thirty. The doctor said short outings."

"This is not a short outing."

"It's one conference room."

Reeve Freight kept its offices in a glass building off the highway, with trucks lined up in the yard behind it.

The receptionist stood up when she saw me.

"Mrs. Reeve! Mr. Reeve is in the board meeting. Should I..."

"I'll go in," I said.

Dennis followed me down the hall, a head taller than anyone we passed.

I pushed open the double doors.

Seven people sat around the long table.

Randall was at the head of it with his sleeves rolled up and a spreadsheet on the screen behind him.

His mother sat at his right hand.

Everyone turned.

"Stephanie," Randall said, and he stood so fast his chair rolled back. "What are you doing here? You should be resting."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," I said. "I won't be long."

I walked down the length of the table and set the folder in front of him.

His mother put her hand flat on it.

"This isn't the place, dear."

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