Chapter 4: Come Home
I drove past the turnoff for my parents' house.
I kept going another six blocks and pulled into the parking lot of a diner I had eaten at alone more times than I could count.
A place where nobody knew my father's name or cared about Savannah's engagement.
I ordered coffee.
Sat in the corner booth.
And opened Grandpa's letter.
His handwriting was steady at the top of the page and looser near the bottom, the way it had been in his last months when his hands gave him trouble.
*Fiona.*
*I am sorry for what this morning cost you.
I know what your father is like when he decides someone is beneath him.
I know what your sister learned from watching him do it.*
*I want you to understand something before you do anything else.
I did not leave you this because I wanted to punish your father.
I left it to you because you are the only one in that family who ever understood what I built and why I built it.*
*Your father is a capable man.
He ran the company well for thirty-one years.
But he forgot, somewhere along the way, that the company was never about him.*
*It was about the people who worked there.
The ones who stayed through the hard years.
I have left you a list of their names.
Protect them first.*
*The rest will take care of itself.*
*I love you, Fiona.
I always saw you.*
*— Grandpa Walter*
I read it twice.
Then I set it flat on the table and held my coffee with both hands.
My phone had seven missed calls by then.
Four from Dad.
Two from Savannah.
One from a number I didn't recognize.
I called the unknown number back.
It rang once.
"Miss Palmer." A woman's voice.
Calm and precise.
"My name is Ruth Calloway.
I'm the attorney who handled your grandfather's estate.
I've been expecting your call."
"He put you on the list," I said.
"He did.
I'm glad you read the letter first." A brief pause.
"Are you somewhere private?"
"A diner."
"That will do.
I want to walk you through what happens next, legally speaking, before your father makes his first move.
Because he will make one.
Probably today."
"What kind of move?"
"He'll call his own attorney.
He'll argue the silent partner agreement was conditional, or that Walter lacked capacity when he amended the transfer clause, or that there's a procedural error in the documentation." Her voice stayed level.
"None of those arguments will succeed.
But they will take time and they will be unpleasant."
"How much time?"
"If he files an injunction, three to six weeks before a judge dismisses it.
In the meantime, the transfer is valid and on record.
You are the controlling shareholder of Palmer Group Holdings as of this morning."
I looked out the window at the empty parking lot.
"He doesn't know that yet."
"He suspects it.
He doesn't have confirmation." A pause.
"Miss Palmer, I'd like to meet with you this afternoon if possible.
There are decisions you'll need to make quickly.
Personnel matters.
A board notification.
And one other item your grandfather asked me to handle personally once you came forward."
"What item?"
"He left instructions for a specific conversation.
One he wanted you to have with your father — but only after you had read the letter and spoken with me." She paused again.
"He wanted you to go in knowing everything.
Not just some of it."
My coffee had gone cold.
"What don't I know yet?" I asked.
Ruth Calloway took a breath.
"Your grandfather didn't just leave you the shares, Fiona.
He left you evidence." Her voice was careful now.
Deliberate.
"Evidence that your father has been drawing unauthorized personal expenses through the company accounts for the last four years.
Significant amounts.
Enough that, if reported, it would not be a civil matter."
The diner felt very still.
"How significant?"
"Just over $340,000."
I set the coffee cup down.
Outside, a car pulled into the lot and parked two spaces from my Honda.
The driver didn't get out.
May you like
I looked at the license plate.
It was my father's car.
