For most of his life, Nathan had been terrified of public failure.
Arthur had once told me that our son inherited his ambition but not his patience.
Now Nathan stood in front of hundreds of people accepting responsibility for his own blindness.
Caroline looked around desperately.
“You’re all misunderstanding this. Nathan knew about the redevelopment. He supported everything.”
“I supported the idea of improving the shelter,” Nathan replied. “I did not authorize you to divert restricted charitable funds into your private company.”
She reached for the microphone on a nearby stand.
“Everyone, please. This is a family disagreement that’s being blown completely out of proportion.”
“It’s not merely a family disagreement.”
The voice came from behind the first row of guests.
A gray-haired woman named Patricia Wells, the foundation’s independent board chair, stepped forward.
She had served on the board for eleven years.
I had known her since the first time Vale House received a substantial corporate donation.
Patricia looked directly at Caroline.
“Earlier today, the independent board members voted to suspend your financial authority pending a formal investigation. We have requested independent forensic accounting and preservation of all relevant records.”
Caroline’s mouth fell open.
“You held a meeting without me?”
“You were notified according to the foundation’s procedures. Your conflict of interest prevented you from participating in that decision.”
“This is outrageous!”
Patricia remained calm.
“The board has also halted the proposed redevelopment transaction pending legal review.”
Caroline took a step backward.
I could see her calculating.
Every person she’d charmed.
Every donor she’d impressed.
Every carefully constructed relationship she’d used to make herself indispensable.
They were all watching.
And none of them could save her from the documents.
Then her expression changed.
She turned toward me.
