Chapter 8 - THE SIGNATURE I COULDN'T DENY
“That's my signature.”
I said the words before Natalie could ask.
She stared at the old financial authorization.
“Grant, did you approve these transfers?”
“No. Not these transfers.”
“But you signed the document.”
I nodded.
Five years earlier, shortly after our divorce, Martin had come to my office with an emergency financing proposal.
The Holloway Grand was expanding.
We needed cash for renovations.
Martin recommended temporarily moving some company reserves into a centralized account while refinancing was completed.
He said it would simplify reporting.
I remembered barely looking at the paperwork.
I'd been angry.
Humiliated.
Consumed by the belief that Natalie had betrayed me.
And I'd signed.
Elias examined the form.
“This authorized a temporary intercompany transfer, Grant. It didn't authorize permanent withdrawals from the employee fund.”
“Then how did the money disappear?”
“That's the question Martin doesn't want answered.”
Natalie stood.
For a moment, I feared she would walk away.
Instead, she moved toward the window overlooking Willow House's small garden.
“Do you remember what I told you when we started the Founders' Fund?”
I swallowed.
“You said it wasn't our money.”
She nodded.
“It belonged to people who worked twelve-hour shifts so our dreams could become real.”
“I remember.”
“Then why did you sign anything involving that money without reading it?”
I had no defense.
“Because I trusted Martin.”
She turned.
“You trusted everyone except me.”
The words landed exactly where they belonged.
I lowered my eyes.
“Yes.”
Silence filled the kitchen.
Finally, Elias spoke.
“The board meets in thirty minutes. We should go.”
The Holloway Grand's executive boardroom occupied the twenty-third floor.
Eight board members sat around the long walnut table.
Martin stood near the windows.
Courtney was beside him.
She looked startled when Natalie entered with Elias and me.
“What's she doing here?” Martin asked.
“Presenting information relevant to the Willow House sale.”
Martin's expression hardened.
“This is a private board meeting.”
“Natalie helped establish the Fund whose assets you're selling,” I replied. “She has information the board needs to hear.”
The board chair, Margaret Collins, glanced at Natalie.
“I'm willing to hear her.”
Martin didn't look pleased.
I began with the employee fund balances.
Then the suspicious contractor payments.
Then the authorization using Natalie's name.
Finally, Elias explained why his original investigation had been interrupted.
Martin listened without changing expression.
When Elias finished, he stood.
“Most of these allegations are speculation. This company has undergone routine audits. No regulator has accused us of wrongdoing.”
“Then explain N. Holloway Family Services,” I said.
“An approved administrative contractor.”
“Who owns it?”
“I'd need to verify the current ownership.”
“You've had all night.”
He ignored that.
Instead, he turned to the board.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we're facing a serious liquidity problem. If we fail to approve this transaction, our lenders may demand immediate changes to our financing.”
Margaret frowned.
“Is that accurate?”
“Yes.”
“Why weren't we informed of the full risk?”
Martin spread his hands.
“Because I believed we could resolve it without alarming anyone.”
Natalie looked at him.
“By selling homes out from under retired employees?”
He met her eyes.
“Sometimes unpleasant decisions are necessary.”
“Then you should have been willing to put your own name on the decision.”
Martin's mouth tightened.
Courtney suddenly spoke.
“Martin, maybe we should postpone the vote.”
He turned toward her sharply.
“That's not your decision.”
She went pale.
I noticed Margaret watching the exchange.
“Mr. Whitcomb,” Margaret said, “I want an independent review of the Fund before we proceed.”
Martin shook his head.
“Delaying the transaction will create substantial financial exposure.”
“Then the board needs to know the full extent of it.”
For the first time, I thought we might be able to stop the sale.
Then Martin opened his briefcase.
He removed the original financing authorization from five years earlier.
“Since everyone is so concerned about signatures,” he said, “perhaps we should discuss this.”
He placed the document before Margaret.
“Mr. Holloway personally approved the restructuring that made these transactions possible.”
Margaret looked at me.
“Grant?”
“I signed an authorization for temporary financing. I didn't authorize these withdrawals.”
Martin placed a second page beside the first.
“This schedule was attached to that authorization.”
I frowned.
I'd never seen it.
The page listed Willow House as collateral.
It also permitted the Founders' Fund to be used for related financing costs.
At the bottom was a small initial.
G.H.
Margaret studied it.
“Grant, is this your handwriting?”
I leaned forward.
My stomach dropped.
The initials looked genuine.
Martin watched me.
“You remember signing a large stack of papers that day, don't you?”
“Yes.”
“And you trusted me to explain them?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps the board should ask why you're accusing everyone else of wrongdoing when the transactions began with your approval.”
A terrible silence followed.
Natalie looked at me.
Not with anger.
With something worse.
Uncertainty.
“Grant,” she whispered, “did you know Willow House was being used as collateral?”
“No.”
Martin gave a quiet sigh.
“It's unfortunate that personal matters have made everyone forget the actual history.”
Then he took out one final page.
It was an internal memorandum dated five years earlier.
Printed in bold across the top were the words:
RESTRICT NATALIE HOLLOWAY FROM ALL FINANCIAL OVERSIGHT.
Beneath them was a paragraph describing her as a risk to the company.
And at the bottom was a sentence I remembered saying during the worst afternoon of my life.
Make sure Natalie never has anything to do with this hotel again.
Martin looked directly at me.
“You gave that order, Grant.”
May you like
He placed one finger on my signature.
“Now tell the board how much of this happened because you wanted your wife destroyed.”
