Chapter 7 - THE TRUST MEETING
At eleven sharp, Grant Vale walked into the library carrying a black briefcase and the expression of a man who had billed somebody for every minute of his life.
He was sixty, silver-haired, careful, and dry despite the storm.
Dominic disliked him on sight.
Not because Grant looked nervous.
Because he didn’t.
“Dominic,” Grant said. “Unexpected pleasure.”
“Sit.”
Grant sat.
Brooke took the chair beside him.
Adrian remained near the fireplace.
Natalie sat opposite them.
Emma stood near the door with a tray nobody had requested.
Dominic had asked her to be there anyway.
“Show me the trust,” Dominic said.
Grant opened the briefcase and removed a thick binder.
“Catherine’s trust has several components.”
“I know what it has.”
“Then what exactly are we reviewing?”
“The cottage.”
Grant opened to a tab immediately.
Too immediately.
“This amendment gives you discretionary authority to reallocate the property if it serves the beneficiaries’ financial interests.”
Natalie leaned forward.
“My mother never said that.”
Grant did not look at her. “Your mother signed it.”
“When?”
“March eighteenth, two years ago.”
Natalie’s eyes narrowed.
“Mom was in the hospital on March eighteenth.”
Grant looked up. “She was discharged that afternoon.”
“No. She wasn’t.”
Brooke cut in. “Natalie, grief can make dates—”
“Finish that sentence,” Natalie said.
Brooke stopped.
Dominic held out his hand.
“Original.”
Grant hesitated.
“This is a certified copy.”
“I asked for the original.”
“It’s in archival storage.”
“Where?”
“Providence.”
“Address?”
Grant’s mouth tightened. “I don’t have it memorized.”
Dominic leaned back.
“Interesting.”
Grant closed the binder. “What exactly is this about?”
Dominic looked at Brooke.
“My fiancée says she has authority to manage the trust.”
Grant did not blink.
“She has limited authority under a private directive.”
“Signed by me?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t sign it.”
The room changed.
Brooke spoke first. “Dominic, you sign dozens of things a week.”
“I didn’t sign it.”
Grant slowly removed his glasses.
“Then we should verify the execution copy.”
“We should.”
Adrian stepped away from the fireplace. “Dom, maybe this is exactly what it looks like. Administrative sloppiness. Fix it and move on.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Do you want me to move on?”
“I want you focused on Saturday, not a paperwork mistake.”
Noah was not in the room, but his voice echoed in Dominic’s head.
That’s him.
Dominic tapped the binder.
“Did my mother meet with you on March eighteenth?” he asked Grant.
Grant’s fingers paused over his glasses.
“Yes.”
“In person?”
“Yes.”
“At your office?”
“Yes.”
Natalie stood.
“You’re lying.”
Grant’s face remained calm. “Natalie—”
“She was in surgery.”
Nobody moved.
Natalie’s voice shook now, but not from weakness.
“She had a cardiac procedure that morning. I was with her until after midnight. Dominic was in Switzerland. You did not meet my mother.”
Grant stared at her.
Then he made the first mistake of the meeting.
He looked at Adrian.
Only for a second.
Dominic saw it.
So did Emma.
Brooke stood. “This is getting ridiculous.”
Dominic said, “Sit down.”
She froze.
He had never used that tone with her.
Not once.
She sat.
Dominic turned back to Grant.
“Bring me the original by two.”
“That may not be possible.”
“Then make it possible.”
Grant closed the briefcase.
As he stood, a folded sheet slipped from a side pocket and landed near Emma’s shoe.
Grant did not notice.
Emma stepped on it.
The meeting ended.
Five minutes later, alone in the pantry, she unfolded the page.
It was a courier receipt.
Destination: HARBOR NINE RESTORATION.
Contents: ORIGINAL CATHERINE MERCER TRUST FILE.
Delivery date: YESTERDAY.
Emma turned the receipt over.
On the back was a handwritten note.
BURN AFTER CEREMONY.
—
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