Chapter 6 - The One Thing Claire Wouldn’t Do
Claire stood.
“Mrs. Mercer?”
Margaret removed her raincoat.
At sixty-five, she possessed the same dark eyes as Grant and none of his ability to hide emotion.
“Please call me Margaret.”
“What happened?”
“Grant is fine.”
Claire’s shoulders relaxed involuntarily.
Margaret noticed.
“He didn’t send me.”
That mattered.
“Then why are you here?”
Margaret sat.
“Because my son is an idiot.”
Claire almost laughed.
“Which specific incident are we discussing?”
Margaret smiled.
“I like you.”
“You flew two thousand miles to tell me that?”
“No.”
She became serious.
“Charles is trying to force Grant out.”
Claire knew some of this from business news.
The investigation had damaged confidence.
Several investors wanted new leadership.
“Grant can handle the board.”
“He can handle them professionally.”
Margaret hesitated.
“I’m not sure he’s handling anything personally.”
Claire looked away.
“That isn’t my responsibility anymore.”
“I know.”
“Does he?”
“Yes.”
Margaret’s answer came immediately.
“That’s why he hasn’t called you.”
Claire hated how much that hurt.
Margaret opened her handbag.
“I found something while cleaning out Charles’s files from an old family storage unit.”
She handed Claire a folder.
Inside were early Westbridge incorporation documents.
One page contained a side agreement.
Charles’s original investment had included an undisclosed option allowing him to seize additional voting rights under certain circumstances.
Claire frowned.
“This looks unenforceable.”
“Grant thinks so too.”
“He knows?”
“I sent it yesterday.”
“Then why bring it to me?”
Margaret leaned forward.
“Because there’s another page.”
Claire found it.
Her stomach dropped.
Grant’s father, Thomas Mercer, had owned part of the original intellectual property behind Westbridge’s first platform.
Thomas had died when Grant was twenty-three.
His rights had passed to Margaret.
Charles had apparently concealed that fact when restructuring the company.
If valid, Margaret—not Charles—might control enough legacy shares to break the board deadlock.
Claire closed the folder.
“You need a corporate attorney.”
“I have six.”
“Then you don’t need me.”
“No.”
Margaret smiled.
“But I thought you deserved to know Grant is not asking you to save him.”
Claire stared.
“He’s finally learned that loving someone does not mean making them responsible for his problems.”
The word loving hung between them.
Claire said nothing.
Margaret stood.
At the door, she paused.
“He talks about you.”
Claire’s heart accelerated.
“I don’t think I should hear this.”
“Probably not.”
Margaret smiled.
“So I’ll only say one thing. He’s proud of you.”
Then she left.
Claire stood alone.
That night, she walked through Seattle beneath a cold drizzle.
She had everything she had wanted.
Authority.
Her own team.
A beautiful apartment overlooking Lake Union.
Respect.
Her salary had nearly tripled.
Evelyn asked for her opinion before decisions instead of after them.
Claire was happy.
That was what made everything complicated.
She did not miss Dallas.
She missed Grant.
Those were different things.
Three weeks later, Westbridge held an emergency shareholder vote.
Margaret’s inherited rights were upheld.
Charles lost his attempt to regain control.
Grant remained CEO.
Claire watched the announcement from Seattle.
Then turned off her laptop.
She did not call.
Neither did he.
Four months passed.
Then Meridian announced its annual technology summit.
Dallas.
Claire laughed when Evelyn told her.
“You’re joking.”
“Unfortunately, Texas continues existing.”
Claire returned to Dallas in April.
She had changed.
Not dramatically.
That was the point.
She still wore glasses sometimes.
Still loved gray blazers.
Still twisted her hair up when working.
But none of it was camouflage anymore.
On the summit’s second evening, she attended a rooftop reception.
Someone behind her said:
“Earl Grey. No sugar.”
Claire turned.
Grant stood there holding a teacup.
Her heart nearly stopped.
He looked the same.
And not.
Less polished somehow.
More rested.
“You remembered.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“You drink tea now?”
“No. It’s terrible.”
Claire laughed.
Grant smiled.
For several seconds, they simply looked at each other.
“You look happy,” he said.
“I am.”
Something flickered across his face.
Then he smiled again.
“Good.”
She studied him.
“How’s Westbridge?”
“Recovering.”
“Todd?”
“Promoted.”
“Seriously?”
“He earned it.”
“Look at you.”
“Terrifying, isn’t it?”
They laughed.
Then silence.
Grant placed his hands in his pockets.
“I owe you something.”
“No more apologies.”
“Not an apology.”
“What?”
“The truth.”
Claire’s heartbeat changed.
Grant looked directly at her.
“I fell in love with you after it was already too late to ask you to stay.”
Claire did not move.
“I’m not telling you because I expect anything,” he continued. “And I’m not asking you to come back.”
“Grant…”
“I just spent years benefiting from your honesty. You deserved mine.”
Claire’s throat tightened.
“When did you know?”
He smiled.
“The pool.”
She groaned.
“Of course.”
“Not because of the swimsuit.”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Grant laughed.
“Fine. The swimsuit did not hurt.”
Claire shook her head.
“But that wasn’t it.”
His smile faded.
“You walked past me like my opinion of you no longer mattered.”
Claire became still.
“And I realized I hated how much mine had mattered to you when I hadn’t earned that privilege.”
The city glowed below them.
Claire whispered, “You really have been going to therapy.”
“Every Wednesday.”
She laughed.
Then Grant said:
“I’m glad you left.”
That surprised her.
“Why?”
“Because if you had stayed for me, eventually you would have hated me.”
Claire looked at him for a long time.
Then she reached for his hand.
Grant stared at their fingers.
“Claire?”
“I missed you.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“That is a very dangerous thing to tell me.”
“I know.”
He stepped closer.
Then stopped.
“Can I kiss you?”
Claire smiled.
“No.”
Grant blinked.
She laughed at his expression.
“Take me to dinner first.”
His smile returned slowly.
“Tomorrow?”
“I fly out tomorrow.”
“Breakfast?”
“My flight is at nine.”
“Airport coffee?”
“Grant.”
“Worth trying.”
Claire squeezed his hand.
“Come to Seattle.”
He stared.
“For dinner?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Figure it out.”
She walked away.
Grant watched her.
Then pulled out his phone.
For once, he had no assistant to solve the logistics.
May you like
He smiled.
He would figure it out himself.
