Chapter 5: First Seat

The board of Cromwell Group met on Thursday at nine, and every director had the photo on his phone.

I knew because the car dealer was looking at it when I walked in.

He turned his screen face down on the table, too slowly.

The boardroom had a long window over the cranes and a long walnut table my father had bought at an auction when I was ten.

Nine chairs. Nine brass nameplates.

The commodore's nameplate was gone. Mine was in its place.

Someone had spelled it right, at least.

My father sat at the head. Marigold on his right, in white. Berenice on his left with her glasses on their chain.

Clive at the far end, near the door.

The banker, the widow, the car dealer and the retired judge filled the middle.

They had all been at the wedding. They had all laughed at the toast.

"Good morning," I said, and sat.

Nobody answered.

My father opened without looking at me.

"First item. I've arranged a refinancing."

He nodded at the banker.

"Thirty million from my bank," the banker said. "Enough to buy out Kestrel's whole position at a fair price."

"A very fair price," my father said, "for a woman who paid sixty cents."

The table chuckled.

"Do I have a motion?"

"So moved," Marigold said.

"Second," said the car dealer.

"Before you vote," I said.

Every head turned.

"Section nine of every note. No new debt without the holder's written consent."

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