Chapter 3 - SAVANNAH’S FIANCÉ KNEW MORE THAN SHE DID
I did not go home immediately.
First, I met Rebecca Sloan.
Sixty years old.
Silver hair.
Dark suit.
No patience for theatrics.
She read Grandpa’s succession papers with me.
Then looked over her glasses.
“You understand that controlling fifty-one percent does not mean the company is yours.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“You cannot take corporate money.”
“I know.”
“You cannot award yourself contracts.”
“I know.”
“You have fiduciary obligations.”
“I know.”
“Your father’s twenty-nine percent still matters.”
“I know.”
“Savannah owns ten.”
“That I did not know.”
Rebecca nodded.
“The remaining ten belongs to senior employees and a retirement vehicle.”
“So Dad and Savannah together hold thirty-nine.”
“Yes.”
“Still not control.”
“No.”
I thought of Savannah promising that she and Lucas would “take over Dad’s company.”
Maybe she believed marriage gave her more power than it actually did.
Or maybe Lucas had promised something.
Rebecca opened the Mercer transaction.
It was worse than the summary suggested.
Mercer Ridge would loan $24 million.
In exchange, it received preferred rights to buy the defense-support subsidiary if Palmer missed financial targets.
Those targets were aggressive.
Very aggressive.
“Could Palmer realistically meet these?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Not with current cash flow.”
“So default is likely.”
“Potentially.”
“And then Mercer gets the division?”
“At a formula price.”
“How much?”
“Approximately nineteen million based on book value.”
“What is it actually worth?”
“We need an independent valuation.”
Rebecca had already ordered one.
Then she showed me a side agreement.
Consulting payment.
$1.2 million to Mercer Advisory Group.
“What for?”
“Transaction strategy.”
“So Palmer pays Lucas’s family more than a million dollars for structuring a deal that may allow them to buy our best division cheaply?”
Rebecca smiled slightly.
“You summarize efficiently.”
“Army.”
“Walter said the same thing.”
My chest tightened.
Then we found Savannah.
Not physically.
On paper.
A marketing-services company.
Savannah Rose Brand Group LLC.
Palmer Strategic Logistics had paid it $420,000 over eighteen months.
“For what?”
“Corporate rebranding, recruitment campaigns, event strategy.”
“Was work performed?”
“Some.”
“Four hundred twenty thousand dollars’ worth?”
Rebecca raised one eyebrow.
“Excellent question.”
I remembered Dad borrowing $4,000.
He had asked me in a whisper.
Said payroll timing was difficult.
He borrowed money from the daughter he called a failure while paying Savannah through a company she personally owned.
That hurt more than it should have.
At six that evening, I returned home.
My suitcase was still near the porch.
Apparently nobody had thought to move it.
The engagement party had begun.
Lights.
Music.
Champagne.
Twenty-five guests.
Dad opened the door.
His expression immediately darkened.
“What are you doing here?”
I smiled.
“Merry Christmas.”
“I told you—”
Mom appeared behind him.
“Robert.”
Then Savannah.
Red sweater.
Diamond ring now visible on her hand.
Lucas stood beside her.
Tall.
Polished.
Forty, maybe.
Expensive watch.
Civilian confidence.
Savannah lifted her glass.
“Oh.”
“Look who came back from the barracks.”
Several guests laughed awkwardly.
Lucas did not.
He studied me.
That was interesting.
Dad lowered his voice.
“Fiona, not tonight.”
“Relax.”
I held up my hands.
“I’m not here to cause trouble.”
Technically true.
“I just forgot something.”
“What?”
I looked toward Grandpa’s old study.
“A box.”
Savannah laughed.
“The fishing-hook box?”
Lucas’s expression changed.
Barely.
But enough.
He knew the box mattered.
I turned toward him.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Lucas Mercer.”
“Captain Fiona Palmer.”
He offered his hand.
His grip was deliberate.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“None of it good, apparently.”
Savannah laughed.
Lucas didn’t.
He said:
“Your grandfather had an impressive reputation.”
“So did your family know him?”
“No.”
Then:
“But anyone involved in defense logistics knew Walter Palmer’s name.”
Savannah stared.
“Really?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
That was the first crack in her perfect evening.
My family thought Grandpa had simply been an old soldier.
Lucas knew better.
I walked toward the study.
Dad followed.
“What box?”
“The one Grandpa left me.”
His face changed.
“How do you know it’s here?”
“I don’t.”
“You took it this morning.”
“I did.”
He stopped.
“Where?”
I turned.
“Why?”
“Fiona.”
“What?”
He lowered his voice.
“Did you open it?”
There.
Dad knew something too.
Not everything.
Enough to fear it.
“Should I have?”
He stared.
“Your grandfather had a habit of making things complicated.”
I almost smiled.
“Interesting description.”
“Whatever he left you, bring it to me before you sign anything.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t understand the business.”
Same family song.
I tilted my head.
“Is Palmer Strategic Logistics struggling?”
His face tightened.
“Who told you that?”
“You asked me for four thousand dollars.”
“That was personal.”
“Why?”
“None of your concern.”
I nodded.
Then:
“Congratulations on the Mercer deal.”
Dad went completely still.
“What?”
“Lucas seems ambitious.”
“Who told you about Mercer Ridge?”
Before I could answer, Lucas appeared in the doorway.
He had followed quietly.
“Robert.”
Dad looked toward him.
Lucas looked at me.
“Captain Palmer, perhaps we should talk.”
I smiled.
“Why?”
“Because your grandfather may have left you certain interests.”
Savannah, behind him, frowned.
“What interests?”
Nobody answered.
Her smile faded.
Lucas continued:
“Family estate structures can create confusion.”
“Can they?”
“Yes.”
“If you received any voting documents, it would be wise to let Palmer counsel review them.”
“Why not my lawyer?”
His smile became thinner.
“Because adversarial counsel is unnecessary among family.”
Rebecca would have loved that sentence.
I said:
“Good advice.”
Lucas relaxed slightly.
Then I added:
“I’ll tell my lawyer you said so.”
His eyes cooled.
Savannah snapped:
“What is everyone talking about?”
Dad said:
“Nothing.”
She looked offended.
“Don’t do that.”
Lucas touched her shoulder.
“Later.”
She pulled away.
“No.”
Then she looked at me.
“What did Grandpa leave you?”
I thought about the box.
Fifty-one percent voting control.
Eighty-six-million-dollar trust.
Federal contract signature.
Mercer deal.
And my grandfather’s instruction to wait.
I smiled.
“Nothing you’d want.”
Savannah laughed.
“There. See?”
She raised her champagne.
“Fishing hooks.”
Lucas did not laugh.
May you like
That was all I needed to know.
He understood the joke was on her.
