At 2:00 a.m., My Husband Thought I Was Asleep While He Emptied Our Safe to Run Off With His Mistress. Before Leaving, He Kissed Me and Whispered, “Poor Audrey. You Never Saw This Coming.” Hours Later He Sent a Photo From the Airport. I Replied With Four Words That Made Him Call Me Immediately.
They were rehearsal.
That afternoon I met Margaret and two board members in a conference room downtown.
No cameras.
No raised voices.
Just documents.
Eleanor Voss, who had served on the board since my mother’s third year as chief executive, removed her glasses and looked at me the way she used to look at junior analysts who had finally brought her a complete file.
“Your mother worried about this,” she said.
