Chapter 6 - A Visit from Nathan
I stared at Celeste's business card.
"Why would Nathan come here?"
My father sat heavily on a wooden stool.
"They wanted me to sign something."
"What?"
"A release concerning the Vale Link setting."
The Vale Link was a distinctive clasp used on several of my mother's most recognizable jewelry designs.
Martin had helped develop its original locking mechanism.
Years earlier, the workshop had registered the design and documented how ownership would be handled.
At least, that's what I'd always believed.
"Celeste told me there was a buyer interested in acquiring the entire business," Martin continued.
"She said they needed to clear up an old question about who owned the designs."
"And you?"
"I told her Louise and I had already settled that before I disappeared."
"Did she believe you?"
"She didn't care."
He opened a drawer and removed a folded letter.
It was printed on Celeste's company stationery.
The letter offered Martin seventy-five thousand dollars in exchange for signing a broad release of any remaining claims involving Vale Atelier's designs.
I read it carefully.
"Why didn't you accept?"
His expression hardened.
"Because it wasn't just a release. They wanted me to confirm that Nathan had authority to negotiate the transaction on behalf of our family."
My throat tightened.
"Did they show you a voting document?"
"Not then."
"Did Nathan mention me?"
My father looked away.
"He said you were difficult."
I let out a humorless laugh.
"He said you didn't understand business and would ruin everything your mother built unless somebody made decisions for you."
The words hurt more than I wanted to admit.
I had heard versions of them for years.
At dinners.
During arguments.
Whenever I questioned the way Nathan handled company accounts.
"I thought he was exaggerating," Martin said.
"Why?"
"Because people who are trying to get something from you often make the person standing in their way sound unreasonable."
I looked at him.
Seventeen years of absence hadn't erased every lesson he'd learned.
"Then what happened?"
"Celeste asked whether I was willing to testify that your mother intended Nathan to take control when you turned twenty-nine."
I stopped breathing.
"She said that?"
"Yes."
"Did she tell you about the trust?"
"She knew its terms."
I leaned against the counter.
The truth was becoming clearer.
Nathan wasn't merely trying to gain control of my votes.
He was collecting anything that might support the story that my mother had wanted him in charge.
My father's testimony could have given that story an emotional weight no forged document possessed.
"Did you refuse?"
"I told them Louise didn't spend thirty years building that workshop so someone else could decide its future without her daughter."
I studied him.
"Then why didn't you call me?"
He looked ashamed.
"Because Nathan told me you knew I was alive."
My heart sank.
"What?"
"He said you didn't want to see me."
I stepped backward.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I understood exactly what Nathan had done.
He had taken two people separated by seventeen years of silence and used that silence against them both.
My father opened another drawer.
Inside was a narrow blue folder.
"Your mother sent this to me years ago. She wanted me to understand what she had changed in the company after I left."
He handed it over.
The first page was a signed agreement concerning ownership of the workshop's design rights.
The second was a letter from Louise.
I recognized her signature immediately.
Unlike the signature on Nathan's proxy, this one was undeniably hers.
At the bottom of the final page, my father pointed to a handwritten note.
Martin has no authority to represent Emma's interests. No one does unless Emma chooses them herself.
I ran a finger beneath the words.
My mother had made her wishes clear.
And Nathan had spent months trying to erase them.
Before leaving the shop, I turned to my father.
"I need you to speak to my lawyer."
He nodded.
"I will."
"And afterward?"
He looked at me hopefully.
"Afterward, we can decide whether there's anything left for us to say."
His expression fell.
I took the blue folder.
Then I walked out without hugging him.
May you like
For seventeen years, he'd chosen the easier road.
I wasn't going to pretend that one afternoon could bring him home.
