She did neither. Instead, she set the bylaws on the rim of the firepit—where, if the wind blew them in and they burned, she would not be sad at all—and strolled down the path toward the river.
Fifteen minutes later, he joined her. He didn’t say anything. He simply fell into step beside her as they followed the meandering path to a small bridge that crossed the river to the property Bronwyn had sold to Landry.
A bench that hadn’t been there the last time she’d walked this path now graced the bank. “When did this happen?” She took a seat on one end. Mo took a seat as far away from her as possible.
The scene was peaceful. Idyllic. The river gurgled. The summer mountain air was warm but with a breeze that kept it from being oppressive. Everything was green, and there was the faintest hint of honeysuckle in the air.
But Mo keeping his distance left her cold and disturbed.
Maybe if she talked to him, he’d relax. “I found the clause in the bylaws that Grandmother wanted me to find.”
No response.
“There’s a provision for the CEO to no longer be subject to the whims of random family members on the board after a certain period. It’s set up so the family gets a two-year window to be difficult, to essentially micromanage everything, and to insist on changes as they see fit. But after that, the CEO has sweeping powers. Too many powers if you ask me. I’ll be making some modifications to that.”
“So they can’t fire you now?” he asked, finally breaking his silence.
“They could have done it with a simple majority vote during the probationary period. They wouldn’t have needed any reason other than that they wanted someone else. It would have been legal to oust me. But now, they have to have cause. And the provisions are narrow. They have to prove I’ve done something illegal or that would fundamentally harm The Haven. Their hands are tied because I haven’t done either of those things.”
She’d expected a fist bump. A smile. A whoop. Okay, maybe not a whoop. Mo wasn’t the whooping type. But what she got was brooding Mo. Brooding Mo did not bode well for ... anything.
She waved a hand in front of him. “Hello?”
He turned toward her and rested a knee on the wood. He tapped the back of the bench and pinched his lips together. The fidgeting would drive her up the wall if he didn’t explain himself.
He finally heaved a breath and said, “I need to tell you something. And it’s important that you hear me out.”
Bronwyn didn’t want to hear him out. She didn’t want him to say anything that came with that kind of warning. But she nodded.
“Tomorrow, we have to return to your office, regardless of who’s there. If Peter Brown comes by, I’ll have security remove him. If Bob shows up and asks you to lunch, I’ll tell him you have plans into infinity and to shove off. But I need access to every file and every server.”
She relaxed at his words. “No problem.” That had been easy. “Maybe in the future you could be a little less dramatic. You had me scared there for a minute.”
“I’m not done.”
The fear came back with a fury.
“I’m sorry, Bronwyn, but you have to know. Someone’s been playing a very long game. And right now, they’re winning. I will get to the bottom of it. I will figure it out.”
“What are you talking about?”
Mo reached for her hands and she placed them in his. He looked her dead in the eye and continued. “Right now, based on the information I currently have on the computer, if someone asked me under oath to tell them who was behind the misappropriation of funds at The Haven, I would have to tell them”—he cleared his throat—“that it was you.”
Bronwyn tried to pull her hands free, but Mo held on. “I know it wasn’t you.”
His voice had no give. No hesitation. No doubt.
“Then, why—”
“I don’t know why. Like I said, someone with way more intellectual savvy than I anticipated is behind this. That’s fine. I’ve hunted down people far smarter than whoever this is. Right now, my money’s on Nathan. Maybe Uncle William. The way they’ve slid the payments in under accounts you manage is ... delicate. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s a total travesty, I would have to say that it’s a diabolically elegant construction.”
Bronwyn’s brain was stuck on the “it looks like you did it” part of the conversation. “I would never—”
“I know.”
“I didn’t—”
“I know.”
