Chapter 5 - WHAT PETER THOUGHT HE WAS SAVING
Peter finally came to Susan’s house Tuesday night.
Claire made him sit in the breakfast room.
Not their father’s study.
Not at the long dining table where family decisions had always been disguised as meals.
The breakfast room was ordinary.
There was nowhere for Peter to perform.
“What happened eighteen months ago?”
He stared at his hands.
“We bought Harrison.”
Claire remembered.
Harrison Custom Interiors had been a small competitor in Wisconsin.
Peter called the acquisition “strategic.”
Dad called it unnecessary.
“Dad told you not to.”
“He told me to wait.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
Peter had signed a purchase agreement before the full financing was secured.
Then two major Bennett projects were delayed.
Cash disappeared.
Payroll approached.
Richard discovered what Peter had done.
“He was going to remove me as president,” Peter said.
Claire felt no satisfaction.
“Maybe he should have.”
Peter nodded.
That surprised her.
“I panicked.”
“And Evan?”
“He said he could get bridge money.”
“Against Dad’s building.”
“The operating business needed collateral.”
“Dad said no.”
Peter’s eyes lifted.
“I asked him twice.”
“And?”
“He said he would rather sell Harrison at a loss than put the Elk Grove property at risk.”
Claire leaned back.
“So you forged him.”
Peter stood.
“I didn’t sign his name.”
“Then who did?”
Peter’s face tightened.
“I gave Evan copies.”
“Copies of what?”
“Old company resolutions. Contracts. Things Dad signed.”
Claire’s skin prickled.
“And the ring?”
Peter sat again.
After Richard died, Susan had searched for his signet ring.
They thought the funeral home misplaced it.
Peter now admitted he had taken it from Richard’s dresser months before his death.
Evan had asked whether Richard used any distinctive marks when signing formal family documents.
“I showed him the ring.”
Claire stared.
“You stole Dad’s ring while he was alive?”
“I borrowed it.”
“For what?”
“Evan said the lender needed reassurance that the consent was authentic.”
“There was no authentic consent.”
Peter pressed his palms against his forehead.
“I knew.”
The admission was almost inaudible.
Claire felt anger arrive slowly.
More dangerous than shouting.
“What did you think the document was?”
“A temporary backdated consent.”
She stared at him.
Peter gave a bitter laugh at himself.
“I know how that sounds.”
“No. I don’t think you do.”
“I thought we’d refinance once Harrison stabilized. Then the bridge would disappear. Nobody would ever need the old consent again.”
“Except Dad died.”
Peter’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“And suddenly his estate owned part of the company.”
“Yes.”
“And suddenly the paper you planned to bury mattered.”
Peter nodded.
Claire understood the ratification now.
The lender needed the surviving members—including her—to confirm the transaction.
Her signature could turn a questionable old document into a current agreement no one needed to examine too closely.
“You were going to ask me Monday.”
“I was.”
“The morning after my wedding.”
Peter looked miserable.
“Evan said you’d be calmer once the guests were gone.”
Claire almost smiled at the obscenity of it.
“My husband planned when I would be easiest to manage.”
Peter looked toward the floor.
Claire studied him.
Something still did not fit.
“If the money saved the company, why was Evan hiding the paperwork in his groom’s suite?”
Peter looked up.
“He said he didn’t want the lender package sitting in his car.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“When did you first see the Meridian entity?”
Peter’s expression went blank.
“What Meridian entity?”
Claire knew immediately he wasn’t lying.
He had never seen it.
She slid a copy across the table.
Peter read the page.
His face changed.
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