Richard sat at a table, talking quietly with Andrew.
“He said he would tell him after the quarterly lender meeting.”
“When was that?”
“Last Tuesday.”
Camille’s expression changed.
“He still didn't.”
“No.”
“And you kept quiet.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Marcus thought.
“Because I remember being a father to a man about to get married.”
Camille frowned.
“That doesn't answer.”
“I did not want Andrew learning, ten days before his wedding, that his father’s business was in trouble from me.”
“That felt like Richard's responsibility.”
“It was.”
“And when he didn't do it?”
Marcus looked away.
“I kept waiting.”
Camille laughed sadly.
“So everybody was protecting everybody.”
“Yes.”
“Except the two people getting married.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Inside the ballroom, Andrew sat opposite Richard.
Neither touched dessert.
“What happened?”
Andrew asked.
Richard looked toward the door where Camille had disappeared.
“Son.”
“No.”
Andrew shook his head.
“I don't want a speech about business cycles.”
“What happened?”
Richard took a breath.
“Whitmore Development has a liquidity problem.”
“How bad?”
“Manageable.”
Eleanor, who had moved closer without invitation, said:
“Do not use that word unless you define it.”
Richard turned.
“Mom, stay out of this.”
“No.”
Andrew looked at his grandmother.
“Please stay.”
Richard stared.
Andrew’s face hardened.
“You've apparently been deciding who gets information all month.”
“I'm changing the guest list.”
Richard leaned back.
Eleanor sat.
Andrew asked again:
“How bad?”
Richard rubbed his forehead.
“Harbor Crescent.”
Andrew knew the project.
Everybody did.
Three waterfront condominium buildings planned near Mount Pleasant.
Whitmore Development had spent four years assembling land, securing approvals, and courting investors.
Construction was supposed to begin in spring.
Then one equity partner withdrew.
Andrew knew that.
He did not know what happened next.
Richard continued.
“We had eighteen million committed.”
“Then Bellridge pulled six.”
“We replaced four.”
“The lender required additional sponsor equity before closing.”
Andrew stared.
“How much?”
“Two point two million.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
Andrew looked between them.
“You put in two million dollars?”
“Not all cash.”
“Then what?”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“Personal line.”
“Investment account.”
“Lake house collateral.”
Andrew stared.
“Mom knows?”
Richard looked toward Victoria.
She sat farther away, speaking quietly with her sister.
“She knows generally.”
“Generally.”
Andrew laughed.
“That word is doing a lot tonight.”
Eleanor looked at Richard.
“How much cash do you currently have available personally?”
He glared.
“You are not my banker.”
“No.”
She lifted her chin.
“I’m your mother who watched you tell a room you were hosting a weekend you could not pay for.”
Richard looked away.
Andrew said: