“Come in,” I yell, and she does.

Jennifer exhales, shakes her head. “I’ve been trying to kill the story, but the Investor Times got a tip. They say they’re running with a piece about Tish inheriting John’s shares of EventCo, effectively taking control of half the company. I told them the will is being contested and gave them the facts. They maintain the Class B stockholders and investors have a right to know. I’m assuming we have no comment.”

I turn, walk toward my office window, and stare down to the street. This is it. The thing I most feared because I cannot control it—my company being ripped apart by fake news and innuendos. By sleazy lies and sensational journalism. That my EventCo could be ruined by something as inane as John’s fling that now has led to a private battle between an ex-wife and a current one. This will not be the end of EventCo. It will not.

“Exactly. We have no comment on their ridiculous story.” I take a deep breath and turn to face Jennifer. This is the dreaded hit piece that no one can stop, not even our multitalented marketing vice president. I’m just surprised it took so long. Likely the press stayed away because of John’s death. But it didn’t hold them off forever, of course. I wonder if Tish had something to do with it. “I know you tried everything to kill it.”

“I did. But they say they have a solid source. An insider.” Jennifer shakes her head.

“Tish did this. Damn it.” I knew we were on borrowed time. We need to move faster. But for now, I will stabilize the company. “Get me the list of the lead investors. I’ll make personal calls to them. Now.”

Jennifer hurries out of my office as Lance walks through the door with a purpose. His face is locked in a frown. That’s unusual.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as he takes the seat.

“Everything.”

“Not a word I want to hear from my COO.”

“Sorry, but it’s the truth. I got a call from the reporter working on the story. You and the second wife feuding. John the peacekeeper is gone, and the company is falling apart. That’s the angle. Chaos at EventCo.” So, the stories, the rumors, are spreading. I notice the dark circles under his eyes.

He says, “I miss John.”

I take a deep breath. So much drama. “We all do. But we need to pull this company through. We’ve worked too hard to lose everything now. How are the employees doing?”

“They’ll be fine until this story drops,” Lance says. “What do you suggest?”

What do I suggest? “We go on the offensive. I now own controlling shares of EventCo. In my estimation, about seventy percent of the company with my combined Class A and B shares. I am EventCo.”

“Congratulations. That’s great.” Lance is impressed.

I smile. “Tish has no stated title or position in the new will. Get with Sandra and move her to a back office, out of the way if she insists on staying and pretending to work. Call security in if she gives you any trouble. In the meantime, we’ll let it slip to the press that we’ve initiated an executive search and will hire John’s replacement soon. A seasoned president, someone the market will approve of who can help us comfort nervous shareholders. I am now CEO of EventCo, the only CEO of EventCo.”

“I’ll tell Jennifer to call the Investor Times with this.” Lance stands up and closes my office door. “I’ve heard Bob and Sandra think John was murdered.”

“None of us know for sure. It’s conjecture.” I shake my head.

“But think about it. If there’s even a possibility she was responsible, we owe it to John to go to the police.” Lance is more animated now than when he came into my office.

“We don’t have enough proof. Or, for that matter, a body.” I watch as his face blanches. “I don’t think EventCo can withstand that gruesome of a scandal. A long, drawn-out police investigation could ruin us. The new will is the key to getting rid of her. Prove it’s fake, and she’s got nothing.” This is the way it must be. “We filed a lawsuit last night. She will lose this fight.”

“I hope so. I really do,” Lance says. “I’ll get Tish moved and Jennifer pitching our story.”

“Thanks. And you know what else? We need some publicity stills of Ashlyn and me collaborating before she heads back to college. Build up the family narrative, next generation already learning the ropes,” I say. There’s nothing like a good old multigenerational family story to bolster an IPO. How genuine. How corporate of us.

“I love it.” Lance is animated again.

“Send Ashlyn in. I’ll explain my idea to her. You talk with Jennifer and come back when you guys have a plan or an interested media outlet.”

He hurries out of the office as I wonder how it will make Tish feel when Ashlyn and I have a family business photo shoot together. The thought of her reaction when she finds out is delicious.

CHAPTER 50

TISH

Nothing like a quickie to get the day started right. Fortunately, my house didn’t sabotage our little romp, and the temperature actually stayed below eighty degrees in my bedroom. A miracle.

Chris is off to work his real estate magic—he promises to be back tonight with more. For more. The thought prompts a little zing in my stomach. Today is going to be a good day.

As I drive to the office, I’m looking forward to solidifying my power. I’m buoyed by the thought that tonight will be my last night living in my haunted home. I’ll move into a downtown hotel, like Chris suggested. I can start looking for a condo right away. Money isn’t an issue, at least it won’t be once the will clears probate. Thanks to a good marriage, it never will be again.

Today’s my lucky day. I find a parking space in front of the EventCo offices and, as I step out onto the sidewalk and look up at the impressive building, a wave of pride washes over me. This is my company now. At least half of it. People have to take me seriously. I’ve arrived. I’m a co-president. Or a joint CEO? I’m something important. I need to figure out what my title is and order business cards. Oh, and new office furniture, too. I’ll create a look more feminine than John’s, a look more like Kate’s furniture. Maybe I’ll just copy Kate’s setup. I have to admit I like her office, even though I once thought it was overdone. I realize it’s not. Our offices will be indistinguishable. Over time, I’ll learn everything she knows. Or I’ll pretend to know it. How hard can this be?

I let myself in the first floor and walk past a bunch of offices on my way to the stairs. I don’t know exactly what all of these people do all day, but I understand their general categories: accounting, IT, sales. I’m going to need to do a sit-down with the department heads and get up to speed. Sure, I know all their names and what departments they lead, but what do they do? I haven’t a clue. I’m going to need someone to take me under his wing. I’m going to need Lance. That thought brings a smile to my face as I climb the stairs to the executive offices.

I’m humming as I push through the large glass door and stand in the two-story atrium where John loved to challenge people to Ping-Pong games. I sort of miss the big guy about now, even though I would not be here if he was still alive. He was going to make me stay home. That remembrance infuriates me. After all I did for him. He was going to make me stay home, and do who knows what, so he could spend quality time at the office with Kate. And then he was going to dump me.

Too bad, John. This is all going to work out much better under my plan. I hurry to John’s office, pop the key in the door, and walk in. Some small part of me keeps thinking Kate will have the locks changed again to keep me out, but she’s not that strong, or that stupid. Perhaps she knows she’s lost?

According to the will, this is where I belong. I wonder how fast I can order new furniture. I have the catalog in my assistant desk. I sit down at John’s desk and wake up his desktop computer. I need a new one of these, too, don’t I? I want something sleek, new. I suddenly hate all of this masculine furniture, this desk, and this chair. It smells like John, like his car: like my nightmares every night. I want a fresh start. I’m entitled to have it the way I want it.

The screen saver on the computer lights up. It’s a photo of me, standing in the kitchen in Telluride. When was this taken? I wonder if John’s screen saver is filled with photos of me. How sweet. I wait for the photo to change, but there is no slideshow. And then I realize what I’m looking at. John must have taken the photo of me from out on the deck. It’s from our last night. I swallow. I’m mixing a batch of drinks. So what. That’s what everyone does on vacation. I push the power button and the computer shuts down, the screen dark and lifeless.

Someone is trying to scare me. It’s not going to work.

My hands shake as I pull open the desk drawer to find my notepad. Instead I find a sheet of paper folded in half. I open it. It’s a printed photo of John, on the last night, drinking my special margarita. Below the photo someone wrote:

I know what you did.