Logan kept the phone pressed to his ear.
“Can I speak with him?”
“I’m sorry,” Miriam said.
“Your father asked not to be interrupted during the meeting.”
“I’m not trying to interrupt.
I need to see him.”
“He said you might come.”
The words unsettled him.
“He expected this?”
“He said that if you learned about the transfer, you might want answers.”
“Then I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“I’ll let Ms.
Cartwright know.”
When the call ended, Chelsea remained seated at the kitchen table, her hands folded over the old letter.
“What did she say?” she asked.
“He’s at the foundation.”
“And he’s giving away the money.”
“Some of it.”
“How much?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
Chelsea looked toward the window.
“Maybe he should.”
“Should what?”
“Give it away.”
Logan studied her.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
She took a breath.
“I mean, if it’s his money, he should do whatever he wants with it.
