“Maybe if I’d asked more questions?”
“You’re not the only one,” Phil says as he waltzes in with a handful of papers. “If we’re taking responsibility. Had I insisted that Dave manage all the sales, you’d have had a spare moment to look around.”
Quite altruistic of him, but my gaze resettles on the small stack he holds. Is that my separation agreement? I knew it was a strong possibility when Clint and I talked last night. Even if I came entirely clean, I was still a tremendous liability to the firm. The buck stops with me. I’m the portfolio manager.
Hardwin nods at the table. “When I started in this industry, we were on the phones getting the deed done. I’ve caught boys setting up front-running schemes. I’ve escorted off nasty floor traders. I’ve called hedge funds on their unbridled use of leverage. But I didn’t even see this coming. Terrence was trying to recruit me. Dave said the same.” He points to the papers. “This is what we both know. Printed out for the authorities to see how we were duped into complacency.”
My shoulders drop an inch. So, they’re not firing me. Yet.
“Thank goodness for Betsey,” I say to test the waters. Will reminding Hardwin of his role in silencing her raise his hackles? I need to know. “Thinking back through her desperate search for the nexus of the issues, I wish she’d found another way to tell us what she suspected. But I can understand her concern—from her perspective it could have been any one of us involved.”
I’ve had only one short conversation with Betsey since the diner. She’s been fully cooperating with the SEC but went off-grid when I failed to contact her and Candace was breathing down both our necks. She has whistleblower status and could come into a significant monetary award for her efforts.
“I’m dropping the restraining order this afternoon. Our official statement, only if we’re asked, is also included in those pages.” Hardwin’s massive hand points across the table.
“I spoke to Vern over at Meymack,” Phil says. “They’re fully cooperating with the SEC. Lucas Anderson had already gone to him. He’s going to lose his job and may get more than blowback from the SEC. Depends on how much they need him to make their case against Terrence.” Phil shakes his head at me. “Terrible how your family got caught up in all this. I hope you take all the time you need to make sure everyone is good.” He bites down on his bottom lip.
I’ve never seen him do that before. He’s probably nervous he may not be able to protect his firm. There’s no doubt, he may be forcedto fire me. I’m sure he also wonders about Lucas being my brother-in-law. Something everyone now knows. I have nothing to say about Lucas. Although I do have my beliefs about his integrity, Clint is less conflicted; having witnessed his brother keep his word, he still doesn’t want the man, or his wife, in our lives.
“Candace resigned this morning.” As Hardwin shakes his head slowly, a few stray hairs wave on the crown of his freckled scalp. “We’ll need to find a new head of security. Perhaps this time without a past that makes them vulnerable. She did put in a solid structure and plugged a lot of holes.”
Phil nods. “Hardwin is also going to help the SEC. We’re working on ensuring full cooperation in exchange for immunity, but in the end, we’ll do the right thing for our investors.” Phil taps the papers beside him. “The board has a copy.”
I rest my back against the buttery leather of my chair. They both might not survive this either. It happened on their watch as well. I also see what they’re doing. They’re stalling. They have something to tell me and have been laying the tracks.
Phil and Hardwin look at each other across the smudgeless glass table. Phil finally rotates his chair toward me. “The board is likely going to come back with a strong recommendation.”
I swallow hard. Since we got word that Terrence had taken the bait and engaged his payment app, I’ve been fixated on this executive session.
I fold my hands in my lap and let Phil tell me what else will happen.
“We think there might be a fairly good chance that the board will push for your firing.” Phil takes a quick breath but plunges ahead. “Although their recommendation will be read into the minutes, we will have time to assess. We’ve retained outside counsel to advise us. We do not want to see you go, Meredith. You are talented.” Heglances at the ceiling. “Mercy, you’re a rainmaker. We would be foolish to let you go. We just might not have a choice.”
And if they push me out, even if they allow me to resign, I’ll be tainted. Other firms will smell the stink on me. No one wants someone who, at best, allowed this to happen to such successful funds—and, at worst, was complicit. “I hear you. I’ve also retained counsel.”
“I see.” Phil lowers his face for a moment. “I assume this means you are considering taking action if you are let go.”
“Please assume nothing.” I glance to my other side. “Working so closely with Hardwin and his team has taught me the wisdom of seeking smart and capable legal advice. I adore working for Garman Straub. I hope we can work through this.” A queasiness snakes through my stomach.
There’s a small knock on Phil’s door, and then Nonie sticks her head in. “They’re out of executive session. Phil, they’d like you, only you, to join them.”
60
ELEVEN MONTHS LATER
MarketSite is simply a Times Square soundstage, but I feel every bit of the excitement I did almost a year ago when I stood on that thin white balcony at NYSE and rang the bell. The rhythms are the same. Each exchange offers a fresh start every trading day, and six and a half hours later, the gavel bangs. This morning, we all move toward the right of the floor, allowing others to file in after us. Cameras will catch every angle of the opening bell.
This time I watch from the shadows.
Carrie Scovill steps up to the wide white podium and accepts a cylindrical Lucite plaque from the head of listings at Nasdaq. I pull out my phone and catch the moment along with almost sixty other people in the room. The diverse senior leadership team of Wilson Outdoors joins her at the podium for more pictures. On their beaming faces, both pride and gratitude are obvious. Somehow it feels like innocent enthusiasm, but I know every company has theirsecrets—cultures that are not quite as empowering as they advertise or leadership that serves itself.
I shake off my cynicism and give Clint a shove. This is the part he dreads. He loves both ideation and execution, but can’t stand the applause of the masses. I shove him again. We’ve talked about this. He groans, kisses me on the cheek, and stumbles forward.
There is so much more room on the Nasdaq podium than there was at the NYSE. Clint immediately goes to the back, as is his plan. He stands at least a half a head taller than many around him. Carrie twists back and pulls him forward. They’re proud of the investment they’ve made in Tru-ly Trails. Largest grant winner in the company’s history.
The cheering begins. The countdown is on. Moments later, Carrie jabs her finger on the screen built into the podium, and the pealing of the bell fills the room. She then tugs on Clint’s shoulder to give him the opportunity to press the screen and ring the bell. This was not part of the plan. Clint cringes and messes up his face. Next to me, Reid points and snorts out a laugh. I grab his arm and yank it down, but I’m chuckling as well. I remember Phil pulling me up from behind Dave and Terrence, the satisfaction of being seen and promoted.
Clint probably has no such thoughts.
