Chapter 4: Lender

Nobody spoke for the length of a breath.

Then Marigold laughed.

"That's not funny, Daddy."

"It's not a joke." My father turned the monitor so she could see it. "It's her name."

Marigold read it.

Her face went from pink to white in a way I had only seen once before, when she was nine and I beat her at swimming.

I closed my notepad and stood up.

"The minutes are on the shared drive," I said. "I'll send you the board's copy tonight."

"Sit down," my father said.

"I'm a director now. I'll stand."

He came around the desk.

He was a big man, my father, and he had never once had to raise his voice to me.

He raised it now.

"After everything I gave you."

"Name one thing."

"Your education. Your first job. This floor."

"I paid back the loan for my education at twenty-nine. You charged me interest. And I left this floor because you gave my office to Marigold."

"You went behind my back to the banks."

"The banks came to me. They wanted out of your paper. Kestrel paid them sixty cents on the dollar and they said thank you."

Berenice had her glasses back on.

She was reading the notice over Marigold's shoulder, lips moving slightly, the way she read contracts.

"Berenice," my father said. "Tell me this is garbage."

My aunt took her time.

"It's valid," she said. "I drafted it, Gerald. You signed it without reading past page two."

"Then undraft it."

"Gerald, I can't."

Marigold found her voice.

"You bought his signature," she said. "You couldn't keep him, so you bought his signature."

"He sold it. Ask him why."

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