Over the weekend, Catherine continued meeting early investors. James Whitmore had persuaded two of the original shareholders to review the board's proposal directly, and the new conversations exposed gaps she had been too exhausted to challenge. A major customer contract that appeared unprofitable on one page supported three other agreements the board intended to keep. A program dismissed as an expensive retention initiative had reduced turnover and preserved the company's ability to fulfill a demanding seasonal contract. The institutional investors had received the figures, but not the relationships between them.
Catherine rebuilt the presentation from the ground up. She worked with her chief financial officer, who had been privately uncomfortable with the board's summary for weeks, and with a small team of employees who knew the operations beyond what monthly dashboards could show. She did not ask Daniel to review the spreadsheets. He was not an analyst, and his job was not to make her company's future his responsibility. When she called him on Sunday evening, she mostly wanted to tell somebody she trusted that she had stopped feeling helpless.
"I can explain the business again," she said. "Not just defend myself. Explain the work."
"I think you could always explain it," Daniel replied. "You just needed someone willing to hear the full answer."
"James says the board's plan is weaker than they want shareholders to believe. He also says I need to speak with confidence instead of sounding like I'm asking to be allowed to keep my own job."
"Sounds like useful advice."
"It is. It annoyed me at first."
"Also sounds familiar."
She laughed. It was no longer such a rare sound. For a few minutes they spoke about Noah's latest bridge experiment and Lily's history presentation, which was approaching quickly. Daniel heard Catherine moving around her kitchen, the clink of a plate and the scrape of a chair. For once she was doing something as they talked that did not involve a computer.
On Tuesday evening, Daniel pulled into Catherine's driveway at 6:13, just in time to park, gather Noah's jacket, and reach the door two minutes before the agreed arrival. Noah was wearing his good shoes without having been asked, and he had a small notebook in his pocket containing what he called further evidence concerning fractions. Daniel warned him not to turn Lily's important evening into a mathematical hearing. Noah said he would try, which was as much cooperation as Daniel could reasonably expect.
Lily opened the door before they rang. She was dressed in a blue sweater and a skirt she had chosen herself, with her presentation notes arranged so precisely that the corners aligned. Her hair had been brushed back, but a few dark strands had escaped around her face. She looked from Daniel to Noah and announced that they were early, as though this were both irritating and reassuring.
"We have a reputation," Noah said. "Two minutes early."
"I finished checking my sources," Lily told him. "You were right about the fractions."
Noah went still. "All of them?"
"One of them. Don't make a thing out of it."
"I wasn't going to."
"You're doing the face."
"I don't have a face."