Chapter 14: Chester Lands

My father walked out of the lift on the Holborn floor at ten past one.

He had his cane in his right hand and did not lean on it.

Every associate in the corridor stood up.

Nineteen years had turned his hair completely white, and he still came into a room first.

"Lydia," he said.

"Dad."

He stopped three feet from me and looked at my face for a long time.

"You've got gray here," he said, and touched his own temple.

"So do you."

"Mine's earned." His mouth moved. "Where's Somerville?"

Cedric stood at the end of the corridor with his hands in his pockets.

"Chester."

"My office," my father said. "Now. Door shut."

The two of them went in, and the door closed, and every head on the floor turned to the glass.

I stood outside with my arms folded and heard nothing for four minutes.

Then I heard my father's voice go up.

Not the words, only the shape of them, the same shape I had heard through the study door when I was fifteen.

Hattie appeared at my elbow with her hair half out of its clip.

"Is Grandpa yelling at Cedric?"

"I think so."

"Good," she said. "He didn't tell us about the portfolio either."

I turned on her.

"Hattie. You knew he knew?"

"Everyone knew, Mom. Everyone but you." She said it gently, and it landed anyway. "Grandpa made them promise."

The door opened.

My father came out first.

His face was red under the white hair, and he leaned, for the first time, on the cane.

Cedric stayed in the doorway behind him with a stripe of color high on each cheekbone.

"Lydia," my father said, loud enough for the floor. "Come here."

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