Eleven Years of Eating Lunch by a Window in Columbus, Ohio, Ended With a Box I Never Expected

Forty-one percent of this company, cast as one block.”

“Charles Wilson is dead,” Megan said.

She smoothed her cardigan, one lapel and then the other.

“Shares don’t sit at a table.”

“Probate does,” Liam said.

“I hold them until it closes.

Sit down, Derek.

It reads more easily that way.”