“It names me acting president through the first quarter of next year,” Garrett said.

He smoothed the page down with the flat of his hand.

“If we file this with the board before the December fifteenth meeting, Frank won’t have to raise any tough questions about your health,” Garrett said.

“Frank was asking about my health?” I asked.

“Frank is worried about the twelve-million-dollar contract, Dad,” Garrett said, his voice perfectly even.

He took a heavy black pen with gold trim out of his shirt pocket and held it out to me.

“Sign it now, and we can make the announcement together, as a family,” Garrett said.