Chapter 16: First Board Meeting

The Whitman Wine Group boardroom was on the thirty-first floor, with a long table of pale wood and a view of the bay.

I had been in it twice, both times to carry coffee.

On Monday morning I walked in at five to eight in a charcoal suit, with my mother's ring on my hand and Malcolm behind me carrying the black case.

Seven directors sat along the table.

My father sat at the head.

His lawyer sat at his elbow, and Chandler sat halfway down on the left, looking at the grain of the wood.

Nobody had put a chair for me.

I took the empty one at the foot of the table, turned it, and sat.

"This meeting is for directors only," my father said.

"Then you can ask me to leave," I said. "I'm only the majority owner."

A small sound went round the table.

"Ms. Whitman has no standing," the lawyer began.

"I have sixty-one percent of this company," I said, "and every one of you knows it, because you watched it happen on your phones on Wednesday night."

"One of you posted the clip."

A director with silver hair and reading glasses looked down at the table, and I knew which one.

"The trust document is in the case," Malcolm said, mildly. "Each of you has a copy. I'd suggest the second page."

Paper moved.

I watched them read.

I watched seven people find out, one at a time, that the man they took orders from was a proxy.

"Clayton," said an old woman at the middle of the table.

She wore a green wool jacket and had a cane hooked on her chair.

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