“You haven’t any part in it.”
Pam broke in.“I asked her to come.She has a vested interest in all of us.”
John’s features went even more rigid.“Is she taking notes?”
“No,” Hillary answered for herself.“I’m here as a friend.”
“Whose friend?”
“Yours”
“And Pam’s, and his.”He jutted his chin toward Cutter.“I sense a confrontation here, Hillary.Better decide whose side you’re on.”
Again Pam spoke, less patiently this time.“There’s no need to take sides.”She glanced at her watch.“Since we have limited time, I think we should start.”
John sat back in his chair and leveled Cutter an icy stare.“I assume you’re here because you own company stock.That’s the only reason I’d allow you in my home.Do you understand that?”
“It is not your home,” came Patricia’s frail voice, drawing every eye in the room her way.“It’s mine.It was left tome as part of my husband’s estate.You live here because I let you.When I decide that you leave, you leave.”
The swell of triumph in the air was nearly tangible.It came from everyone present but John.Incredibly, he maintained his poise.He didn’t even blink.Ignoring Patricia, he said to Cutter, “If you have something to say, spit it out.I don’t have all day.”
If Cutter had been holding a gun to John’s head—a regular fantasy of his—and John had told him to shoot, he would have done just that.In the absence of a gun, he said in a clear voice, “We’re taking you over.”
John nodded.“Uh-huh.”
“It’s true,” Pam assured him, but Cutter held up a hand to still her before she said more.This was his baby.It had been years in the planning and years in the carrying out.He wanted the pleasure all to himself.
“A while back, I started an investment banking firm.My partners and I have done well.Our client list has quadrupled in the last few years, and in that time, many of those clients have picked up St.George Company common stock.We have enough now to take you over.”
“That’s impossible,” John said.He was still sitting back in his chair with his fingers laced over his middle and would have looked complacent had his knuckles not been white.“You’d need a majority for that, but I can personally account for better than fifty-five percent of the company stock.Forty-five percent is held by the family, another ten percent by close friends.”
“Forty-five percent may be held by family,” Cutter informed him, “but thirty of that forty-five percent agree with this takeover.”
John’s reaction was subtle.Cutter had to hand it to the man; his self-control was like iron.Other than the faint paling of his skin, there was nothing.
“Thirty percent?How do you figure that?”
“Pam will vote for a change in company leadership.So will Patricia.”
“Patricia doesn’t control her stock,” John replied.“I do.”
“Not for long,” Patricia put in.Her voice was shaky, but her words were clear.“I’ve already asked my lawyer to see about returning control to me.”
Unable to ignore her a second time, John gave a negligent shake of his head.“He won’t succeed.You’ve been in a mental hospital for more than twenty years.No judge is going to suddenly decide that you’re competent.”
Bob Grossman straightened and said more forcefully than Patricia, “She’s competent.I’ll testify to it.She’s been competent for years.”
“Then why has she been hospitalized?”
“Because she chose to live in a defined environment.”
“If that isn’t crazy,” John tossed off, “I don’t know what is.”
Pam had stiffened and was about to come to her mother’s defense when Bob beat her to it.“It’s not crazy.Most people have the need to build walls around themselves.Some do it in the form of a close group of friends, others in the form of a business, others in the form of where they live.No, there’s nothing crazy about Patricia, and believe me, I know what crazy is.”
“That’s right.You’re a psychiatrist.You’ve been treatingher all these years, yet you claim she’s competent.Quite frankly, that sounds like fraud.”
Bob was unfazed.“The majority of people in therapy are competent.One has little to do with the other.And as for Patricia, she’ll be leaving the hospital soon.We’re getting married.”
