Page 52 of The Betrayer
William Finlay, up before seven, ready, and actually hurrying to get to work by eight? And walking instead of taking a car. I had to shake away the disbelief before I could remember why I had called.
“So, Tara sent me my schedule when I get back, and it’s packed. But we have a dinner on Monday evening with the chair and vice chair of the Wealdstone Management Group. You have to be there, Dad.”
“What time?”
“Eight on Monday. I’ll have Tara send you the information.”
“Great, I’ll be there.”
“And Dad, you have to be there, and you have to be on time. It’s critically important. I’m not joking.”
The noises behind my father stopped. “Paul, I told you I would be there. Do you not believe me?”
These words stopped me nearly as much as the fact that he was up so early—what did he mean, exactly? Two weeks of filling in for me didn’t make up for years of irresponsibility. I still expected him to return to his old ways at any moment, for the call that would tell me he’d done something stupid or careless, something that would show me he was back to being entirely irresponsible.
But I bit back my words—I didn’t want to start another argument, especially over the phone when I was half a world away. Maybe a different tact with my father would work better—something about catching more flies with honey.
Or a father by letting him stay on his roll, hoping it would last for as long as possible if I didn’t mention anything or give him a reason to stop.
“Okay. Just make sure you’re there.” I sighed.
Another snort. “I told you I would be.”
I shoved a hand through my hair. “Okay, so, have you seen the stocks after the merger?”
A door closed, what I imagined was my father’s front door because I heard the ding of an elevator door soon after. “Going up like crazy. Faster than the elevator in that fancy building of yours. Good job, Paulie. You did it.”
“Bill told me the SEC is sniffing around, though.”
The call from one of our lawyers had been the one dark cloud in all of this.
“They’re just bored. Everything was above the board, and we’re not breaking any laws. They’ll sniff around, and then they’ll leave us alone.”
My father sounded confident, and it was oddly comforting.
“So, I’ve been told you’ve been doing a good job at the office. Everyone says you’ve been busy.” I stood up from my chair and slipped my laptop into my bag.
“You checking up on me?”
My father was on the street—I could hear the sound of the wind and the busy city street.
“I’m checking up on the business, Dad. And I’ve really liked what I’ve seen.”
The line was quiet for a long moment.
“Dad?”
“You do realize that I was in charge long before you got to the company, right?”
The words had none of my father’s usual levity. Did he sound almost... upset?
“I was giving you a compliment, Dad.” I dropped my computer bag by the office door, ready for departure the next day, and pulled it open.
Angela was in the kitchen, wrapped in a sapphire-blue silk robe. She looked up as I came out of the office and offered me a smile, momentarily distracting me from my conversation.
“Well, I don’t need one. Technically, I can do whatever I want. This is still my company. I could even fire you if I wanted.”
I laughed at the cheeky joke. Angela tilted her head in askance, and I waved that I would tell her later.
