The call came just after nine. I was reviewing the final SEC filings for the IPO with a glass of wine on my desk. Rain ran down the study windows.
"Chloe, he's here. In the lobby."
Her voice told me who she meant.
"He says he's sick. He looks awful."
I saved the filing and checked that Noah was in his study down the hall.
"Let him up," I said.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," I said. "Send him to the private elevator. And then you can go home for the night, Helen. Thank you."
I left the study and waited in the living room with the lights still low.
The elevator chimed, a soft, polite sound. The doors slid open.
Arthur shuffled out in an expensive suit two sizes too large. His face had hollowed since the gala, and rain had flattened his thinning hair. The wet wool of his coat smelled sour i
