“Then the board will have to proceed under the existing corporate bylaws,” I replied.
He picked up the document, his fingers tightening against the paper until the corner creased. Without another word, he walked into the home office, opened his heavy oak desk drawer, and slid the paper inside.
The key turned in the lock with a dry, metallic click that echoed through the quiet house.
The next morning, the air in the boardroom lobby at Valeon headquarters smelled of fresh beeswax polish and expensive coffee. The large glass windows looked out over the Boston harbor, where the gray morning light was just beginning to break through the fog.
Evelyn Shaw, the general counsel for Valeon, was already standing near the mahogany display case, her wire-rimmed glasses sliding slightly down her nose. She held a manila folder close to her side, her neutral expression giving no hint of the meetings that had taken place the night before.
“The executive committee convened early this morning, Claire,” Evelyn said, her voice a flat, steady drone that did not rise above the hum of the air conditioning.
“Did they address the restructuring schedule?” I asked, watching her hand as she adjusted her glasses.
