Chapter 16: The Vote

The boardroom was on the fortieth floor of a glass tower.

My mother set my urn down in the middle of the long table, between the water pitchers and the leather folders.

Nobody told her to move me.

Six directors sat around the table in dark suits. The chairman of the board sat at the head, an old man with a cane hooked over his chair.

My mother took the seat beside him. Bram stood against the wall with his hands behind him.

Dale had refused to come up.

"I'll wait in the lobby," he had said. "They don't want me in a room like that."

"I want you in it," my mother had said.

"I know. That's why I'm staying out of it."

The door opened at five minutes to noon.

My father came in alone. He had changed his coat, and he had combed his hair.

He did not look at the urn.

"Gentlemen," he said. "Paula. I understand this meeting is irregular."

"It is lawful," said the chairman. "Sit down, Lyle."

"I'll stand."

"As you like."

The chairman opened a folder.

"Under the bylaws, you cannot vote on your own removal. That leaves five of us. Two are on the record for you. Two are on the record against."

"And the fifth?"

"The fifth is your wife."

My father's eyes went to my mother.

She sat very straight with her hands folded.

"Paula," he said. "Let's not do this in front of strangers."

"They are your directors."

"They are my employees."

"They are the people you pay to tell you the truth," said my mother. "I have noticed that you never listened."

One of his two men cleared his throat.

"Lyle has run this company for thirty years," he said. "A tragedy in the family should not decide a vote."

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