“Julian should not be discussing company business with my estranged brother,” I said.
“I am your brother, Ethan,” Owen said, shifting his weight again, his eyes dark under the porch light. “I still own five percent of the family shares. I have a legal right to know if you are losing your grip on our father’s legacy.”
“I am managing the business exactly as our father intended,” I said. “I do not need your interference, nor do I need your advice on how to handle the board.”
“You are letting people rob you blind because you are too proud to ask for help,” Owen said, his face hardening as he took a step up the stairs. “Look at yourself. You can barely stand.”
“Leave, Owen,” I said, my voice flat.
Owen stared at me for several seconds, his jaw clenched, waiting for me to say something else, to offer some explanation.
“Fine,” he said, turning back toward his truck. “But do not say I did not try to warn you when the board votes you out.”
I watched his truck back down the long driveway, the red taillights disappearing into the dark cedar trees.
The library was quiet when I returned, the green glass banker’s lamp illuminating the desk where I had left the balance sheet. I pulled the small black plastic voice recorder from my breast pocket and placed it on the green leather blotter.
I needed to document my thoughts about the ninety thousand dollars and the V and H Consultants account while my mind was still clear enough to articulate them. My memory had been slipping lately, and the small black recorder was the only way I could ensure my observations were not lost to the fog.
“Ethan,” Victoria’s voice murmured from the doorway, her soft footsteps making no sound on the thick carpet. “What are you doing down here in the dark?”
“I need to make a record of my conversation with Julian,” I said, my tongue feeling strangely heavy as I reached for the power switch on the recorder.
