At 7:26 a.m., the elevator doors opened to reveal Henderson and Patterson deep in conversation. Both men froze momentarily upon seeing Jonathan through the glass wall of the boardroom, clearly visible as he arranged documents on the table. "Right on schedule," I murmured. A minute later, the boardroom door opened as Henderson, a florid man with the overfed look of someone who enjoyed too many expense account lunches, stepped inside, Patterson following close behind.
"Mercer," Henderson acknowledged Jonathan with barely concealed hostility before his gaze settled on me with obvious shock. "Mrs. Blackwood, this is unexpected." "Good morning, Robert," I replied pleasantly.
"Thomas, please join us." The men exchanged uneasy glances before taking seats as far from me as the table allowed. "I don't believe there's a board meeting scheduled until 10:00," Patterson ventured, his thin face pinched with anxiety. "Perhaps there's been some confusion."
"No confusion," I assured him. "I'm aware of the 8:00 pre-meeting Oliver arranged with you and Westfield. I simply thought we might have a different conversation first." Henderson's complexion deepened from pink to crimson.
"With all due respect, Mrs. Blackwood, company business at this juncture is rather delicate. Perhaps it would be better if the majority shareholder weren't present for discussions about the company's future," I interrupted, my tone mild but firm. "I disagree."
"Majority shareholder?" Patterson repeated, confusion evident. "But the sale to Monarch Holdings is proceeding exactly as planned," I confirmed, "though perhaps not as Oliver represented it to you." Before either man could respond, the elevator doors opened again to reveal my son.
Even through the glass, I could see the moment he registered my presence in the boardroom. His step faltered, his expression shifting from confidence to shock and then calculated recovery in the space of seconds. When he entered the boardroom, his professional mask was firmly in place, though the slight tremor in his hands as he set down his briefcase betrayed his inner turmoil. "Mom," he greeted me with forced casualness.
"This is unexpected. The grief counselor mentioned you might seek routine and familiar environments, but I hadn't anticipated you coming here." The patronizing implication that grief had compromised my judgment, a preview of the diminished capacity argument Jonathan had predicted, ignited a spark of anger I carefully controlled. "How thoughtful of you to be concerned about my mental state," I replied evenly.
"I assure you I'm thinking quite clearly." Oliver's gaze flicked to Jonathan, then back to me. "While we're always happy to see you, we do have a confidential business meeting scheduled. Perhaps Jonathan could drive you home and we can speak later today."
"Actually," I countered, "this seems the perfect opportunity to address certain business matters directly, particularly regarding Monarch Holdings and the impending ownership transition." A flash of alarm crossed Oliver's features before he masked it with a condescending smile. "Mom, I understand you're upset about the sale, but these are complex corporate matters that the owner of Monarch Holdings should be quite familiar with," I finished for him. "Don't you agree?"
The boardroom fell silent as my words registered. Henderson and Patterson exchanged confused glances while Oliver stared at me, calculation visible behind his eyes. "What exactly are you implying?" he asked carefully. Rather than answering directly, I removed a business card from the folder before me and slid it across the polished mahogany.
The embossed cream cardstock bore the Monarch Holdings logo and a single name, Elizabeth A. Windsor, Chief Executive Officer. Oliver picked up the card, studying it with mounting confusion. "Elizabeth Windsor, you mentioned her before.