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“Hmmm,” is all Thomas says.
“Really, Thomas, you need to be more on top of things now that you’re in control. Your father doesn’t want the income from his shares slipping due to bad management.” It’s obvious to everyone who’s not Stan that Denise means she doesn’t want less money to spend.
“Fix this, Thomas.” The old man’s voice is steely. “Now.”
Thomas’s placid expression breaks for a moment with a look of smug satisfaction. “I am fixing this, Father. I’ve been fixing it for quite some time.” He nods in our direction—our signal.
Bell pulls the closet door open, revealing us inside.
“What the—”
A loud pounding on the door cuts him off.
“Come in,” Thomas calls.
A group of men enter the room, some in New York police uniforms, others in suits. As do my mother and Leslie, Bell’s lawyer friend from Texas.
Leslie speaks up first. “Stanley Moore”—she hands him a manila envelope— “you have been served.”
“What’s this?”
“Divorce papers.” Mom, looking every Chanel-clad inch like the New York princess she was born, sneers at her husband.
Then she flips Denise the bird.
Everyone, including me, gapes at the gesture.
A suit speaks up next. “Stanley Moore, you are under arrest for embezzlement.”
Before Stan can open his mouth, a uniformed officer takes his turn. “Denise Hampson, you are under arrest for the theft of intellectual property from King Marketing.”
“What? How dare you!” Denise screeches, causing everyone to cringe before the officers begin reading both her and Stan their Miranda rights.
Stan looks from me to Thomas, obviously confused, as the FBI agent cuffs his hands behind his back. “Thomas, you can’t let them do this.”
Casually, at odds with the whole vibe in the room, my brother walks over to me and our mother. We all stand side by side, staring Stanley down. “This wasn’t Chase’s idea.” Thomas’s eyes drill into the old man. “It was mine.”
The color drains from Stan’s face. “What?”
“The staging was my idea, though,” I pipe up, unable to resist. “I thought being arrested with your side-piece in the very office you coveted for your firstborn was a bit of poetic justice.” I wink at him. “You always did tell me I was too sentimental.”
“This is ridiculous!” Denise shouts, trying to pull her arms away from the officer. “I’ve done nothing wrong.” Her eyes swing wildly around the room, landing and narrowing on Bell.
Bell just smiles.
Stan and Denise are pulled from the room, their crazed, panicked voices getting softer as they go farther and farther down the hall. Until finally, they’re gone.
“Well. That felt wonderful.” Mom turns to Bell. “Now don’t forget, lunch tomorrow.”
Bell nods, and they hug tight. “Thanks, Leslie,” she says over my mom’s shoulder.
“Eh, don’t worry. You’ll get the bill soon enough.” Leslie places a hand on Mom’s shoulder. “Come on, Em. Let’s go get our ducks in a row so we can really bleed Stan dry in the divorce. It’ll be fun.”
And with the shares Stan just signed over, plus most of the family assets coming from Mom’s family, not Stan’s, I have a feeling that with Leslie at the helm, Mom’s divorce will be fun.
For her at least.
With a light laugh, my mother follows her out, making Thomas and me promise a family dinner soon.
