Chapter 6: The Board Knows
Gerald Foss was seventy-one years old and had served on the Mercer House board for nineteen years.
He had known William Mercer since before Harrison was born.
He had delivered a eulogy at William's funeral that made three board members cry.
He called Clare back at eight o'clock that evening from his home in Connecticut.
She was in Eleanor's spare room by then, her prenatal vitamins on the nightstand, her hospital bag in the corner, Eleanor's cat asleep at the foot of the bed.
"I've read the documents you sent," Foss said.
"All of them."
"And?"
"The second will is going to hold.
I've already spoken to our general counsel.
Harrison's filing was rushed and there were procedural irregularities we missed at the time because no one was looking for them.
We were looking for them tonight."
Clare sat up straighter.
"What kind of irregularities?"
"The witness signatures on the first will.
One of the witnesses was Harrison's personal attorney.
That's a conflict of interest that should have disqualified the document at filing.
It didn't, because no one challenged it." A pause.
"Someone is challenging it now."
"What happens to Harrison?"
Foss was quiet for a moment.
"The board convenes an emergency session on the twenty-seventh.
Harrison will be asked to step back from operational control pending a full review of the estate proceedings and the company records from the past two years." Another pause.
"Clare, the recording your father-in-law left.
Our counsel has reviewed the transcript.
Harrison and his attorney discussed diverting a portion of Eleanor's inheritance — the portion that should have been held in trust — into a subsidiary account that Harrison controlled personally."
Clare closed her eyes.
"That's not just an estate dispute," she said.
"No," Foss said.
"It is not."
She heard him shift in his chair.
"William was a good man," Foss said.
"He made mistakes.
But he tried to correct them.
I want you to know that I intend to make sure that counts for something."
After the call ended, Clare sat in the quiet of Eleanor's spare room for a long time.
The baby moved.
A slow, rolling shift, the kind that had been happening more often in the last week.
She put her hand on her belly.
"Your grandfather tried," she said softly.
"At the end, he really tried."
Her phone lit up.
A text from Harrison.
*I need you to come home.
We can fix this.
Whatever you think you know, we can talk through it.
Please.
Think about our child.*
She read it twice.
Then she set the phone face-down on the nightstand.
May you like
She had been thinking about their child since the moment she found the box.
That was exactly why she wasn't going home.
