her simply staggered.
Late on Friday afternoon, Stephen studied the estimates Catherine had given him as he waited for his cousin to arrive. It was ten to five, and he planned to spend the weekend on his sailboat, so he hoped Derek wouldn’t be late.
It surprised him that Derek had formally requested a meeting, and at this time of day besides. His cousin’s weekend generally started on Thursday and lasted till Tuesday. And if he wanted to see Stephen he usually just barged into his office unannounced, flattering his way around his secretary if Stephen had asked not to be disturbed. But this time he’d sent word a day in advance, neatly typed on company stationary, no less, that he would like to meet in Stephen’s office at five o’clock Friday. He had ensured Stephen’s attendance by dangling this intriguing little carrot: he wanted to discuss the future of the company.
Stephen hadn’t thought his cousin cared about the department store chain their grandfather’s father had founded as much as he cared about the trust fund that kept him in designer suits and Swiss Alps ski vacations. When their grandfather had died two years earlier, he’d left Stephen at the helm of the faltering chain, with Derek second in command. Derek’s title was officially vice president, but he generally left the day-to-day operations and all of the crucial decisionmaking to Stephen and the rest of the management team. He was no intellectual lightweight, but he’d made it clear he wanted the Danbury lifestyle far more than the burden of the legacy.
Stephen closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off the headache that was already threatening. The truth was that the struggling department store chain might not be able to ensure Derek’s lavish spending much longer without a major turnaround. Marguerite had been making noise about selling in recent months. So far Stephen had been able to block the move. Admittedly, it went beyond pure business for him. He was not about to give up the birthright he was still striving to prove to his dead grandfather he was entitled to.
He figured this meeting would probably be an attempt by Derek to wheedle him around to a sale, so he wasn’t surprised when his cousin walked through the door followed by Marguerite. What did surprise him, though, was that they had brought with them the Danburys’ longtime family attorney, Lyle Moore.
Stephen sent his aunt a polite smile and motioned toward the small conference table tucked into the corner of his office. Turning to Lyle, he said, “This is unexpected. I didn’t know you were coming by today.”
The man who had handled everything from Derek’s prenuptial agreement to the cousins’ trust funds barely spared him a glance. He seemed uncomfortable, nervous, even, and when he finally offered a hand its palm was damp and clammy.
“Can I get anyone a drink?” Stephen asked.
The attorney shook his balding head, and Marguerite declined as well, but Derek flashed a cocky grin. “I’ll take one. To celebrate.”
Warning bells were going off in Stephen’s head, though he couldn’t figure out why. But the malicious amusement in Derek’s light eyes made him wary.
“You know where it is.”
Derek poured himself a brandy at the bar discreetly tucked behind a door in the paneled wall. When he was lounging in his seat, swirling amber liquid in a snifter, Lyle unsnapped the flaps of the overstuffed leather case balanced on his knees and pulled out a document.
He cleared his throat and began, “You’ve seen this before, of course.”
“Grandfather’s will.” Stephen’s stomach knotted.
“Then you know what Sunday is.”
“Sunday?”
“It’s your birthday,” Derek supplied, his grin reminiscent of a shark’s. “I never forget it because it comes just one day before mine.”
The attorney cleared his throat a second time, and flipped through the papers he’d laid on the table before him.
“Um, as you know, since you are the oldest, your grandfather left you the controlling interest in Danbury’s when he died two years ago, with Derek and his mother’s portion totaling forty-nine percent of the assets.”
“I believe we covered this at the time, Lyle.”
“Yes, but the terms of the…um…codicil have not been met.”
“Codicil? There was no codicil.”
The lawyer ignored him and went on. “Your grandfather felt since you boys were born only one day apart—and you had come a few weeks premature, Stephen—he should make things a little more fair for Derek.”
Stephen almost laughed aloud. Fair? His grandfather had always shown a preference for Derek, who looked so much like a Danbury should look, with his golden hair and sky-colored eyes. Stephen favored his mother, a sticking point with the old man, which was why Stephen had been surprised—shocked, even—when the will had been read two years earlier. Despite his obvious bias toward Derek, Maxwell had followed family tradition by giving the oldest Danbury heir control of the family empire. Stephen hadn’t been the only one caught off guard. As he recalled his aunt had all but swooned at the time. Derek, however, had seemed to take it all in his stride.
“Your grandfather saw Danbury’s as a family business, and he was troubled that neither of his grandsons was married and starting the next generation.”
Stephen nearly smiled, remembering the arguments that had often occurred after Sunday dinner, at which some dreamy-eyed debutante or another would have turned up at the table.
“Yes, he believed it should remain a family enterprise, passed from one generation of Danburys to the next,” Stephen agreed. Shooting Derek a look, he added, “He didn’t want to see the company sold.”
The lawyer pulled a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket and settled them on his nose.
“Yes, well, your grandfather wanted to ensure its future through your and Derek’s children. Unfortunately, neither of you has married and produced legitimate heirs at this point.”
“So?”
Lyle glanced up nervously, but didn’t maintain eye contact. “Well, you know how Maxwell could be. He thought perhaps a little incentive would move things along.”
“Just cut to the chase, Lyle,” Stephen said impatiently.
Derek’s grin broadened. “Yes, Lyle, get to the good part.”
“Well, as per the terms of the codicil, if by your thirty-fifth birthdays one of you was legally married, and hopefully but not necessarily on the way to fatherhood, he would inherit not just the controlling interest in Danbury’s but all of it, with the exception of the five percent already willed to Marguerite.”
“What are you talking about?”
The lawyer ignored Stephen’s outburst and continued.
“If both of you were married the terms of the original will would stand. But if neither of you were married, which is the case, you were to share the remaining ninety-five percent interest in Danbury’s equally.”
“That’s a lie!” Stephen’s fist pounded the tabletop, followed by an oath.
The
