I thought about the huge gala scheduled for the following Saturday.
Caroline had already sent invitations to business leaders, elected officials, journalists, and wealthy donors.
The centerpiece of the evening was supposed to be a surprise announcement about the foundation’s future.
I had a terrible suspicion I knew what that announcement would be.
That afternoon, I drove to Nathan’s office.
He ran the architectural division of Arthur’s former construction business.
His office was full of framed photographs showing buildings his father had designed.
One picture stood on the desk.
Nathan at seven years old, holding a hammer almost as big as his arm, smiling beside Arthur outside Vale House.
I picked it up.
For a moment, I saw the little boy who used to run into the kitchen whenever he heard me open the cookie tin.
Then Nathan entered.
“Mom? Caroline said you weren’t feeling well.”
“I’m feeling perfectly fine.”
He glanced at the papers in my hand.
His expression tightened.
“Is this about the foundation again?”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“Mom, please. We’ve been over this.”
“Have you heard of Blue Cypress Property Group?”
He frowned.
“No. Why?”
I put the financial authorization on his desk.
“Your wife transferred four hundred and eighty thousand dollars of charitable funds into a company registered under her maiden name.”
He looked at the document.
I watched his eyes move from the amount to the signature.
“Where did you get this?”
“From the foundation’s records.”
“You shouldn’t have gone digging through confidential information.”
