Chapter 18: Friday

The boardroom of Stanhope Freight sat on the fortieth floor, with a view of the rail yards and a table made from one tree.

I came in at ten past nine with a visitor sticker on my sweater and took the last chair along the back wall.

Nobody had asked me to come.

Colin didn't know I was there until he looked up from his seat at the foot of the table and saw me.

His face did something quick and private, and then he looked down at his papers again.

A dozen people sat around the table in dark suits.

At the head sat the board chair, a heavy man with white eyebrows who had known Colin since Colin was in short pants.

"We'll begin," the chair said. "The motion before us concerns the conduct of the chief executive."

"The papers have carried the Stanhope Foundation's difficulties for a week. Last Saturday's gala was filmed by two hundred phones."

"The board cannot lead this company through a family dispute that is also a public one."

He cleared his throat.

"Colin, you may speak before we vote."

I leaned forward.

I knew what I expected him to do.

I expected him to defend himself with numbers.

He stood up and buttoned his jacket.

"I won't argue the motion," he said.

The chair blinked.

"I've run this company for four years. In that time I came home before ten o'clock on maybe a dozen nights."

"I told myself it was the job."

"It was the easier room to be in."

Nobody at the table moved.

"My mother sits on the foundation and this board," he said.

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