By the end of the week, I'd read the grant agreement twice and the Mercer Foundation's financial reports once.
The figures were worse than I expected. The foundation had promised contractors more than the trust had approved. It had also listed expected Calder funds as secured income, even though the agreement made clear that the second payment depended on a board vote.
I printed the relevant pages and carried them to the family house.
My father was in the dining room with my mother. Everett sat at the table, scrolling through his phone. No one asked why I'd come.
"I want to know why the foundation booked the second Calder payment as guaranteed," I said.
My father looked up. "That's an accounting question."
"It's in the grant agreement."
"You've been working with Silas?"
"I've been
