Contract-signing authority above the limit Lauren already had.
There were enough words on those pages to make the intention look boring.
It wasn’t.
I closed the folder.
“What is this?”
“It formalizes the structure.”
“What structure?”
“The one Dad wanted.”
“Your father never asked me to sign this.”
“He wanted me running the company.”
“You are running the company.”
“Not really, if every major decision can still be questioned by you.”
I looked at her.
“How many major decisions have I questioned in the past year?”
She didn’t answer.
“None.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is exactly the point.”
She pressed her lips together.
“Mom, you’re grieving. You shouldn’t be dealing with contracts, bank approvals, staffing. Let me handle it.”
There was the voice.
Soft.
Patient.
Like I was old and confused.
I was fifty-nine.
I said, “I’ll review these with counsel.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You don’t need to involve Olivia.”
“Olivia has been our attorney for sixteen years.”
“These are standard.”
“Then she’ll review them quickly.”
Lauren sat forward.
“Why are you making everything a fight now?”
I looked at the cardboard box.
Then at my dead husband’s photograph inside it.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
I stood.
Lauren did too.
“So you’re not signing?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“When will you decide?”
“Tomorrow.”
She looked surprised.
“Tomorrow?”
“Ten in the morning.”
“For what?”
“A special board meeting.”
Her face changed.
“Mom.”
“Be there.”
I picked up the box.
Then I stopped.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Tell Ryan to leave my parking space empty.”
I walked outside.
Once I was in my car, I called Olivia Grant.
She answered on the second ring.
“Diane?”
“I need a board meeting tomorrow morning.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“What happened?”
“Lauren shut off my badge and handed me a voting proxy.”
Olivia swore softly.
Then she said, “Before tomorrow, you need to talk to Ellen.”
Ellen Price was our controller.
“Why?”
Another pause.
“She tried to raise something with Michael before he entered hospice.”
“What kind of something?”
“Vendor payments.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Olivia.”
“I don’t have enough yet to tell you more.”
“Then get enough.”
“I will.”
“And Olivia?”
“Yes?”
“Bring the adoption file.”
She went silent.
“Diane.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
That was the truth.
I looked through my windshield at the building Michael and I had spent half our lives building.
“But bring it.”
—
At nine-fifty the next morning, I walked into Bennett Foods through the front entrance.
Marcus had been told to reactivate my badge.
I didn’t use it.
I made a point of signing the visitor sheet anyway.
Lauren was already in the conference room.
Ryan sat beside her.
Olivia sat across from them.
So did Ellen, our controller.
Frank Ellis and Marsha Cole, the two outside directors, were at the far end of the table.
Lauren looked at the seat at the head of the table.
Then at me.
She had placed a folder there.
Her folder.
I moved it to the side and sat down.
She stared at me.
“Mom, I chair operating meetings.”
“This isn’t an operating meeting.”
Nobody said anything after that.
I started formally.
“We’re here to discuss executive authority and certain financial issues identified after Michael’s death.”
Lauren looked at Ellen.
“What financial issues?”
Ellen opened a binder.
Ryan shifted in his chair.
That movement caught my attention.
Ellen began.
“Over the past seven months, Bennett Foods paid approximately one hundred eighteen thousand dollars to a consulting vendor called CCG Market Solutions.”
Lauren frowned.
“Yes. Regional market development.”
Ellen turned a page.
“CCG was incorporated eleven months ago.”
“So?”
“The registered business address matches an office suite leased by Carter Commercial Group.”
Ryan spoke.
“That’s my uncle’s company.”
Ellen nodded.
Lauren looked at him.
“Your uncle?”
Ryan’s face hardened.
“They’re separate businesses.”
Ellen continued.
“The listed owner of CCG Market Solutions is your cousin, Derek Carter.”
Lauren looked at Ryan again.
“You told me CCG was independent.”
“It is independent.”
“Your cousin owns it.”
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t independent.”
Frank Ellis leaned back in his chair.
“Was the relationship disclosed?”
Nobody answered.
Olivia did.
“I found no written related-party disclosure to the board.”
Lauren looked at me.
“What is this?”
I said, “A board meeting.”
“You think Ryan stole money?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re implying it.”
Ellen slid copies across the table.
“There are six invoices with nearly identical descriptions. Four were approved above your normal department limit using an executive exception.”
Lauren looked down.
Her signature was on the approvals.
She looked up quickly.
“Ryan brought those to me.”
Ryan turned toward her.
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t act like you didn’t know.”
Lauren stared at him.
