Sofia Alvarez spoke.
“NorthStar needs a definitive cap table before we close.”
Everyone knew.
That was why Lenora was there.
Peter looked toward her.
“We increased the offer because of litigation risk.”
Lenora almost smiled.
“Then you still don't understand.”
He looked irritated.
“Understand what?”
“I am not asking you to pay me nuisance value.”
“I'm asking you to value the units.”
“Units that may have been diluted over twenty-five years.”
“Yes.”
“Units attached to capital calls my father did not fund.”
“Yes.”
“Units in a company Dad built after Isaiah stepped back.”
“Yes.”
Lenora leaned forward.
“All of those things belong in valuation.”
“Not in denial.”
Peter looked away.
That was fair.
Meredith asked quietly:
“What do you think you own?”
Lenora turned.
“Somewhere between eight and fourteen percent of the current company depending on how dilution, distributions, and unpaid redemption obligations are treated.”
Meredith stared.
“That is millions.”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
Lenora looked toward Sofia.
“NorthStar’s offer values the company at sixty-four million.”
Meredith understood arithmetic.
Her face changed.
Five million.
Nine million.
Perhaps more.
But Lenora continued.
“I am not asking for fourteen percent.”
Peter looked surprised.
“What?”
“I had two independent analyses.”
“One says eleven point six.”
“The other nine point eight.”
“I proposed ten and a half.”
Peter stared.
“You never told me the lower report existed.”
“You never asked.”
His face reddened.
Lenora held up one hand.
“I also sent your counsel every assumption.”
Martin nodded.
“She did.”
Peter looked toward him.
“Thanks.”
“Privilege.”
“Wonderful.”
Catherine nearly laughed.
Meredith looked at Lenora.
“Ten and a half percent.”
“Yes.”
“Which makes your interest worth six point seven million before adjustments.”
“Approximately.”
“Plus unpaid distributions.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Depending on offsets, another nine hundred thousand to one point four.”
Meredith sat back.
She looked physically ill.
Not because of the money alone.
Because Thomas had known.
Some version of this.
For years.
She remembered dinners.
Vacations.
A vineyard purchase.
Donations.
The Manhattan apartment.
She remembered Thomas writing quarterly checks to Angela Brooks and saying:
“Old business.”
She never asked.
Old business sounded harmless.
Meredith looked toward the photographs outside the dining room.
Thomas everywhere.
Isaiah almost nowhere.
“When did your father die?”
she asked.
“2006.”
“And your mother never pursued this?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Lenora took time.
“My mother hated this restaurant.”
Everyone went still.