Page 46 of Cameron's Contract
I’d sent Henry and Shay to Maurice Reiner’s house, and they’d just confirmed they’d changed his mind.
That left us with nine votes to go.
Maurice’s ex-forces background included him serving as a helicopter pilot when he was at Camp Bondsteel, the main base of the U.S. under KFOR command in Kosovo. Maurice had resigned his commission weeks after his father’s unexpected death. He’d inherited his dad’s estate, which included a news station and a dying newspaper. There was no doubt the bond between those who’d been in the military went deep, and Shay and Henry would have had the cards tipped in their favor for getting through to him, making Maurice a likely candidate to change his vote.
As was Doug Malt, who’d once been considered a close friend of my father’s and had shared more fond memories with my family than any other member of the board.
Though he’d not been seen in public for the last few months, and as such we’d all suspected a major illness and chosen to ignore the ruse that he was on a worldwide lecturing tour.
The truth lay in what Mrs. Malt was willing to share.
She reappeared and sat in the armchair opposite. “Drinks are on their way.”
“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” said Mia. “We value your time.”
She gave a nod of thanks. “Dr. Cole, how are your parents?”
“Fairing well, considering. Please, call me Cameron.”
“Cameron.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “Susan.”
“This is Mia,” I said. “Susan, it’s good to see you again.”
She gave a nod. “This is a pleasant surprise. I haven’t seen you since the party your father threw for Henry after his graduation.”
“Henry’s actually out of the military now,” I said. “He’s joined the business.”
“Doesn’t time fly. It seems like only yesterday.”
“It does.”
“You two are so close.”
“We are.”
“And Willow? How is she?”
“Still obsessed with horses,” I said. “No change there.”
She sat back. “Did your father send you?”
Mia gestured our sincerity. “Whatever you tell us will not leave this room, Mrs. Malt. We promise.”
“You have our word,” I said.
She stared down, as though still unsure. “I’m so sorry how it all worked out.”
“It’s not over,” I said. “There’s still time.”
“Everyone has signed it I’m afraid,” she said.
“Mrs. Malt, may I speak with your husband?”
“He’s resting.”
“I really need to see him. My father’s life’s work is hanging in the balance.”
She stared at the carpet and her gaze swept the floor.
