Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Mo had never spent much time around the Pierces. But seeing them gathered together, with their faces masked in anger and hostility and their voices raised and furious, made him appreciate his own family more than ever before.
He didn’t throw words like evil around lightly, but this gathering made his spirit protest. He’d seen stuff. He’d survived stuff. He didn’t want to imagine what it would have been like to grow up in this family.
Mo schooled his expression. He wouldn’t give away his reaction. But how was it possible that Bronwyn had turned out to be so very different? What was the key to her beauty, grace, and inner light?
And how could he ever hold it against her that she’d fled from these people at sixteen?
Nothing and no one could have made him stay with them one second longer than necessary.
Bronwyn released his hand but, instead of distancing herself, she leaned against his good side and watched the chaos with an air of nonchalance.
If things hadn’t been so tense, it would have been amusing to watch the cascade of reactions as her family members realized Bronwyn was there. That he was there. That they were there together.
Within thirty seconds of their arrival, all heated conversation trailed off and everyone stared at them.
“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” Bronwyn started. “Grandmother is dying. The doctor gave her less than two weeks to live. And you’re in here behaving like ill-bred toddlers. What is wrong with you? I’ve always known you to be heartless but not thoughtless. Why are you acting like fools?”
“Don’t you—” William Pierce had stepped forward, but when he caught Mo’s eye, he snapped his mouth closed and stepped back.
That’s right, buddy. I’ve got your number, and I’m not afraid to share it with everyone from your wife to local law enforcement.
An aunt whose name he couldn’t remember dove into the breach. “Bronwyn, this meeting doesn’t involve you.”
“Meeting?” Bronwyn made a show of looking from one face to another. “My, my, Aunt Beatrice, I realize it’s been a while since you joined us for a board meeting, but this isn’t how we do things. I can’t speak for you, but the rest of these people were raised better.”
Mo locked his jaw together to keep from snorting. Wow. Aunt Beatrice had not aged well. Everyone knew the woman came from a family of alcoholics and meth users, who were regular occupants of the local jail to this day.
“Enough.” Bronwyn’s dad, Darrell Pierce, stood. “Why don’t we all take a seat and discuss things like the civilized individuals we are.” He cocked his head toward Mo. “You can go. This is a family discussion.”
“He stays, Father.” Bronwyn’s grip on his arm tightened.
Darrell narrowed his eyes but didn’t dispute Bronwyn’s decision.
When everyone except Mo and Bronwyn were seated, Bronwyn broke the tense silence.
“I have no idea what you are all doing here, or why you’re behaving in such an unseemly manner.
And to be honest, I don’t care. I’m here for one reason and that is to discuss the future of The Haven.
Since we have the board here, I’ll call us to order. ”
The next few minutes were filled with boring procedural stuff.
Mo didn’t like how regimented it all felt.
It gave off formal business vibes, not family business vibes.
Maybe that mattered, maybe it didn’t. But it struck him as odd that everything had to be just so before they could even have a conversation.
When the formalities had been observed, Bronwyn looked at the gathered board members.
“Let me be clear about three things. First, I am the CEO. I was elected to this position by the members of this board, and in my role as CEO, I have done and will continue to do what is best for The Haven. It is not my job, nor do I have any interest in protecting members of the Pierce family when they act the fool, commit crimes, or generally behave like imbeciles. This family, and I use that word very loosely, is not my job. The Haven is my job.”
She paused and looked at each person in turn. No one said anything.
“Second, in my role as CEO, I have put up with a lot of nonsense from members of the Pierce family. That ends today. If you want someone in this position to protect the family, then find someone else to do it. You can try to fire me if you want. I do not care. But know this. If you do manage to get rid of me, this”—she made a sweeping circle—“all goes away. The housekeeping, the laundry, the rubbing shoulders with influential people, the box seats, the private jets, the fancy houses at the beach, the days of doing whatever you want while money magically appears in your bank account? Gone. Done. Why? Because none of you can run this place. And that includes Nathan. He could do a halfway decent job for a while, but I’d give him a year, two tops, before he runs it into the ground. ”
Again, she looked at everyone. Again, no one spoke.
“Third, let me be clear that I do not care what you think of me. I do not care if you like me because, guess what? I don’t like most of you, and I am not afraid of you.
” This Bronwyn was an avenging angel. A force for good.
Wonder Woman, Samwise Gamgee, Lucy Pevensie, Captain America, and Anne Shirley—furious with Gil for calling her “Carrots”—all rolled into one.
“In keeping with my only mission, which is to secure the successful future of The Haven, I have hired Mo Quinn in his professional role as a forensic accountant. There are only a handful of people who could have used Haven funds in an illegal way, and most of them are in this room. Consider yourself on notice. When Mo finds you, and it’s only a matter of time before he does, I will expose you.
I will prosecute you. I will not hide your indiscretions or take it easy on you. ”
Bronwyn pressed both hands on the table.
“This is not a threat. This is a statement of fact. Anyone found doing anything illegal will be fired, removed from the board, and prohibited from accessing The Haven’s grounds.
And before you say anything, I checked our bylaws. I am well within my rights as CEO.”
“You won’t be CEO for long.” William’s face was a shade of purple that couldn’t possibly be healthy.
“Actually, I will.” Bronwyn pulled the bylaws from the small file she’d carried in with her.
“I’m not sure how many of you have read these lately, but according to recent changes, you can’t fire me without cause.
And you don’t have it. The Haven is financially healthier than it’s ever been, and when we root out the corruption, it will be stronger still.
You cannot fire me for anything short of gross negligence or criminal conduct, and given that I haven’t done anything illegal in a very long time, you have no choice but to get on board with the new way of doing things or find another way to spend your days, because you won’t be at The Haven. ”
Was it possible that the temperature in the room had gone down? Or was it the malevolence emanating from the Pierces as a whole that made the room feel chilled?
Bronwyn waited for the shock to clear and the anger to surface.
She expected the hostility to come from Uncle William, but it was Uncle Ronald who spoke up.
“We never agreed to any changes to the bylaws. I’m not sure when you got so big for your britches, young lady, but my lawyers will have a field day with this stunt.
You’ll be removed from the premises by nightfall. ”
It was a bold statement, given that it was already Friday afternoon.
“Uncle Ronald, I’ll be happy to show you the board meeting minutes where changes were made and instituted.”
“There’s no way I ever agreed to that.” Uncle Ronald didn’t back down.
“Funny enough, I believe you. However, you did approve the change to the bylaws, as did everyone on the board. The vote was unanimous.”
“What?”
“Grandmother Pierce plays the long game.”
She could almost see her uncle’s brain working, and when his expression went from anger to horror, she smiled. “Yes. Grandmother Pierce has always been a bit of a wild card.”
“Explain.” Her father’s voice cut through the tension. “Bronwyn, what are you talking about?”
“Eighteen months ago, we made a change to the bylaws to allow for a charitable fund to be created. Grandmother specifically requested it.”
Awareness slid through the room. “Yes. And that’s the only change we made.” Uncle Ronald didn’t sound quite as sure as he had just minutes before.
“There was one other.”
“No, I distinctly recall that we made changes to two sections to allow for the fund and to allow it to be managed by the CEO.” Uncle William looked around the room as if waiting for everyone to agree with him.
“Actually, I have the audio recording of the meeting right here.” Bronwyn scrolled to the file on her phone, then hit play.
Bronwyn’s voice came through the speaker. “Motion made to change bylaws section four paragraph seven, section six paragraph twelve—”
“And section eight paragraph two,” Grandmother Pierce interrupted. “I’ll have to tweak that one as well. Any objections?”
Bronwyn hit pause and checked to be sure everyone was following along. Then she hit play again, and they all listened to the unanimous vote. “What’s section eight?” Aunt Beatrice asked.
“That would be the section that puts a time limit on the probationary period.”
Bronwyn wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d failed to read the final section herself a year and a half ago. She’d never dreamed her grandmother would do something so . . . underhanded. But it was clear that no one, including herself, had thought to question it.
“The modifications to the bylaws were handled by the attorneys at Grandmother’s direction. At the next board meeting, they were signed by everyone present.”
Stunned silence greeted her pronouncement.
Bronwyn tapped her phone screen. “I can play the recording from that meeting if you’d like.”
The words that flowed around the table next were less than complimentary.
Uncle William glared at her. “We’ll change it. You won’t be able to outvote us.”
Bronwyn had considered that. “You may want to wait until the investigation into the financial discrepancies is completed, Uncle William.”
Behind her, she heard Mo shift. He didn’t say anything, but his presence seemed to shake her uncle’s resolve.
“One other thing.” Bronwyn paused and prepared for the fallout. “I spoke to Grandmother’s attorney briefly, and he mentioned something else that has bearing on this matter.”
“Let me guess, Grandmother made you queen while she was at it,” Aunt Beatrice snarled. “You always were her favorite, even after you nearly took us down when you ran off with that senator’s brother.”
Bronwyn’s body chilled. Senator’s brother? He . . . no . . . He hadn’t? What?
Aunt Beatrice pointed at Uncle William. “You said nothing would blow back on us.” She pointed at Uncle Ronald. “And you said it would turn out to be a good thing for the family in the long run.”
Bronwyn regretted the decision to stay standing for this meeting. She desperately wished for a chair to hold her up and a table to block her trembling hands from view.
Aunt Beatrice patted her chest. “I told you we should distance ourselves from everything associated with that family, but you said we couldn’t afford to alienate them.” She aimed her finger back at Uncle William.
She flung a hand at Bronwyn. “And now, this little strumpet has us all dancing to her tune. We’re going to lose everything.”
“Shut up, Beatrice.” Uncle Ronald stood. “All of you, shut up.” He turned to Bronwyn. “What, exactly, did the attorney tell you?”
Bronwyn struggled to remember what Uncle Ronald was referring to. Oh. Right. “Grandmother made changes to her will.”
Uncle Ronald sat down. Hard.
Uncle William got to his feet. “I move to conclude this meeting and reconvene on Monday.”
Her father stood. “I second the motion.”
Bronwyn lifted her chin. “A motion to end the meeting and reconvene on Monday at one p.m. All in favor?”
Everyone said, “Aye.”
But she still asked, “Anyone opposed?”
No one spoke.
“We’ll reconvene on Monday at one.”
Bronwyn turned and left the room. Mo was right behind her, and when his hand took hers, she laced her fingers through his and held on for dear life.