In A Fix - Mary Calmes Page 0,10
stipulation was that they would support me as long as my life was not in any way threatened by my choice. If it is, or if they become aware of any threats, then they would immediately cut all ties with the project, based on the fact that they do not want me, or any member of my family, in danger.”
“Because right now, you are the company,” I said, having read that in the report.
He nodded slowly.
“Two years ago your board, your investors, and all the companies you do business with were all in agreement that you were the future of the company.”
“Yes.”
“You’re supposed to be named CEO at the end of this year.”
He nodded.
“You’re a beacon of hope for the future of Stanton-Downey.”
His wince and the accompanying groan were funny. “Did you see that ridiculous 60 Minutes interview too?”
I chuckled. “No, I just read the file.”
He exhaled sharply. “So, at the moment, everyone on the board knows that Lane has been receiving threats, but no one knows I’ve been getting them as well. That fact has remained in the strictest of confidence.”
“Because if they know, the project is shelved.”
“Yes. They can’t lose me. I’m the new face of the company, the face of the future.”
“Got it,” I said, wrapping my brain around the new information. “And of the people who know about the threats against you, those include your father, your assistant, Lea Zane, and the man who takes care of your home, Eric Foster, yes?”
“Yes.”
“How is he not a butler or a manservant?” I asked for my own edification.
“Caretaker is a better descriptor for all that Eric does.”
“I see,” I said, dropping it because I didn’t want to know where the bodies were buried. No matter how benign Brig Stanton seemed, no one stayed rich by being a nice guy. “Another question, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” he said, gesturing at me to go ahead.
“Why don’t threats to your sister count in the board’s stipulations as a threat to your family?”
“You mean, why hasn’t the project already been derailed?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
“In college, she found out about all the horrors that Stanton-Downey committed under the stewardship of Eston Travers.”
“You’re speaking of the numerous environmental infractions.”
He nodded. “I am,” he said solemnly.
“But Travers was fired, and your father took back the CEO position,” I reminded him. “The company cleaned up the landfills, and all the other reported sites, and made financial reparations for the abuses. It made the news.”
“It did, yes.”
“And you yourself took a stand on green energy that is second to none.”
“But that was after years of my sister going head-to-head with Travers, and why she’s still the black sheep now. It made for horrible press, excruciating product launches, and more crashed charity functions than you can imagine. It was horror after horror between Travers and Lane.”
“So your sister got herself, what, disinherited?”
“She did,” he explained sadly, sitting down on the end of my bed as well. “Not that it was hard, since her disparaging of the company was both loud and public.”
“Lots of reporters were ready to listen to her and run with it.”
“Exactly,” he said, sighing deeply. “And when my sister didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, my father struck at her the only way he knew how.”
“Did he rescind her trust fund when he disinherited her?”
“Yes.”
“And your mother allowed that?” Lane and I seemed to have a few things in common.
“My mother died in a skiing accident when I was ten. Margaret Stanton, Muffie, as my father and everyone else calls her, is my father’s second wife.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said sincerely, though I had utterly nothing to compare to his loss. My own family—my father, mother, two brothers—were at least still alive, for all that they didn’t care whether I was.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “It’s nice that you care that I lost my mother. She was special. I still miss her, though Muffie has always been very kind to all of us. She really tries to get my father to talk to Lane, and I try and get Lane to talk to him, but they’re practically the same person, both stubborn and unbending.”
“But now your sister has you to help her.”
“Yes, she does.”
“And I bet she would love to rub it in your father’s face.”
“I stipulated in the contract that she couldn’t.”
It was a surprise. “You put it in writing that your sister couldn’t taunt your father?”
“Yes, I did,” he told me, absolutely deadpan.
I studied his face, looking for a trace of a