“Thank you, Margaret,” I said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “Thank me when you’re sitting in that boardroom.”

Harold found out about the board meeting on May 17 at 4:00 p.m. I know, because Josephine called me forty-five minutes later, her voice tight with controlled fury.

“What did you do?” she demanded.

I was sitting in my cubicle at Ashford Holdings, pretending to organize files. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Dad just got a notice from the board secretary. An emergency meeting tomorrow. Requested by Margaret Coleman and two other directors,” she said.