“Alice.” He says her name like a warning.
“It would have to be you.” Alice can’t help herself: she grins. “‘The CEO is always a Dewar.’” The words aren’t her own. It’s the rule of law in this town. Dewars run everything.
Nick shakes his head. “Now is not the time to be plotting. My brother might be dragged through a scandal. He’s understandably distraught.”
Alice is jealous of Nick and Bobby’s relationship. Twins have always fascinated her, especially identical ones—Alice can only tell Nick and Bobby apart when Bobby is wearing his glasses. Alice often wonders what her life would be like if she had had a twin sister. She likes to think that she and her twin would’ve chased her stepmother away.
“I like your brother,” Alice says. She doesn’t, not really, but now is not the time to point this out. “My beef is not with him. But think about what this means. If you’re CEO, you could approve a sale.”
It’s in the Alma Boots Shareholders’ Agreement. Alice has perused it. A 66% quorum is needed to sell shares, but there’s a loophole: the CEO is allowed to approve strategic mergers as long as at least 50% of the Board of Directors vote with him. It’s one of the reasons why the CEO is always a Dewar—whoever occupies the role has the power to push for a merger, diluting the existing shareholders. Historically, no Dewar CEO has done that because they’re all preternaturally attached to keeping Alma Boots in the family, but Nick understands that theirs is a changing world, a world dominated by conglomerates. Alma Boots won’t survive much longer as a lone wolf. It needs the power that comes with a pack. A merger would mean a much-needed competitive edge, access to better resources, higher profits. It’s the smart move.
Alice does the calculations in her mind. Nick, Bobby, and Charles each hold a 25% stake in the company, with the remaining 25% owned by a small group of four shareholders—a sore spot for the Dewars, the result of a past sale in a time of need. If Nick were to step in as CEO, he’d be able to propose a merger and vote to pass it—he has a seat on the board. Surely, the four shareholders, who occupy one seat between the four of them, would vote alongside Nick. They’re not idiots: they know their bank accounts would benefit from a sale.
Nick raises his eyebrows and meets her gaze. For a moment, it looks like he might let his guard down and discuss the matter openly. It’s what they used to do before Allegra was born: plot, strategize. Alice misses the partnership they used to have. But Nick glances away.
“You didn’t ask if he did it.” He is clutching his G&T with his right hand, thrumming his left fingers on the side of the glass. A nervous tic.
Alice narrows her eyes. “Of course he did it.”
“How can you be so sure?” The thrumming increases.
“Why would this woman lie?”
Nick’s fingers stop moving. “Do you think Gina will feel the same way?” She gets the distinct impression that he’s holding his breath.
This is what Alice wants to say: if Gina doesn’t, then she’s a fool. Women don’t go around making up lies about powerful men. No one would put herself through that kind of scrutiny. If Eva Stone is saying Bobby had an affair with her, then that’s what happened.
Instead, Alice says, “You know her better than I do.”
Nick nods, slowly. “I called Frank today, remember him?”
Alice frowns. The name isn’t entirely unfamiliar, but Nick has so many friends. She doesn’t remember a Frank specifically.
Nick continues, “He works at Rossman & Klein. They specialize in cases of sexual impropriety.”
“I remember,” Alice says, now making the connection. Rossman & Klein is an old-school firm, a boys’ club. Retaining their services is the wrong move. And not just because Frank is a pig.
“They’re supposed to be the best. We’re meeting tomorrow, but Frank’s initial assessment is that, in a he-said she-said situation, what ultimately matters is how the wife sees it.”
“The wife?” Alice repeats.
“If there’s no smoking gun, yes. People follow the wife’s lead.” He takes a big gulp of his drink.
Alice’s stomach drops. If her chance at freedom is contingent on Gina leaving Bobby, then she may as well go to David Dewar cemetery and buy a grave plot. She’ll die in this town.
“What if you hired Jessie Carr?” Alice says. “Her firm headed the Olympics scandal.”
“Jessie from Wharton?” His tone is tender. Nick knows Alice has lost contact with all of her business school classmates. It’s too painful, keeping in touch, bearing witness to their successful lives. Once upon a time, they envied her.
“If you hire a woman-led firm you’ll be sending a stronger message,” Alice says. Jessie is also a die-hard feminist. Alice isn’t entirely sure how—or even if—involving Jessie in the investigation will help Alice, but it might.
Nick’s eyes widen slightly. “That makes sense.”
“I could call her,” Alice offers.
“You wouldn’t mind?” Nick looks at her doubtfully.
“Not at all.” She smiles genially. “Anything to help.”
“Thank you,” Nick says, rubbing her thigh. “But don’t tell anyone other than Jessie, OK?” Nick places his now empty glass on the side table.
“Who would I tell?” No one would believe her, anyway. They’d just assume that Alice is jealous of her sister-in-law because she is popular, adored by all Almanacs and Alice is, well, not. (Alice is proud of being disliked by the town. Who wants to be beloved by a cult?)
“I’m serious.” Nick leans forward and holds both her hands. “We’re the only ones who know at this point. Just be careful not to bring it up at tomorrow’s meeting.”
“You know me better than that.” Alice barely talks during the mind-numbing ASC meetings. Besides, it’s not like she wants to discuss Bobby’s sex life. Although, in fairness, anything would be better than the usual issues on the ASC’s agenda. Should
