PART 23 — THE LONG WAY OUT
The eventual arrangement took eleven months.
That mattered.
Nothing about it arrived as a perfect solution.
Two potential investors walked away.
One employee participation proposal proved too expensive in its first form.
A financing plan had to be revised.
The valuation changed.
There were arguments.
There were weekends when I wanted to accept almost any offer simply to stop discussing offers.
Ruth reminded me to take those weekends off.
Leena continued running the company.
The independent board continued doing its work.
The advisers developed a transaction with a long-term investment group whose plans were more closely aligned with Prescott’s current business.
An employee ownership component formed part of it.
Not a magical gift.
Not something every employee could be told would make them rich.
A carefully structured opportunity with documents, rules, and risks that had to be explained.
The new investors committed to specific terms.
Governance.
Reporting.
Limits on certain financial decisions.
Defined protections during the transition.
They did not promise nobody would ever lose a job.
I would not have trusted that promise.
They provided plans that could be examined and commitments that could be written down.
I sold most of Alder House’s controlling position.
Retained a smaller interest.
Stepped down from my board seat after a planned handover.
The amount I received was less than Halden’s highest offer.
It was still more than enough.
Enough was a word my marriage had nearly taken from me.
There had always been a better house.
A more important dinner.
A more expensive watch.
Another room in which I needed to behave correctly.
Now I looked at the closing documents and knew what the money was for.
My house.
My work.
My family.
Time.
Choices.
The ability to help without making every act of help a public announcement.
I signed.
Ruth checked the final page.
Then she smiled.
“You’re finished.”
I looked at the pen.
“Am I?”
“With this stage.”
I laughed.
“You and Nathan must have attended the same course on refusing dramatic conclusions.”
“It was compulsory.”
For a moment, I simply sat.
The room was quiet.
No one applauded.
No one called Aaron.
No one asked whether I felt victorious.
Ruth handed me my copies.
Then she asked whether I had eaten.
I laughed again.
Apparently, the people my grandfather trusted had all learned the same essential question.
PART 24 — THE LAST TIME I USED THE CHANNEL
On my final day, I visited Prescott headquarters.
Mara met me in the lobby.
This time, she came around the desk and hugged me.
We had become friends.
Not confidantes in every detail.
Not people required to call constantly.
But friends.
Her daughter had graduated.
I had sent flowers.
Mara had sent me a photograph of the ceremony.
Life had moved while all the documents were being negotiated.
Upstairs, Leena walked with me through the office.
People stopped to say goodbye.
Some knew the entire public story.
Some had joined after it.
To them, I was simply an owner leaving after a transaction.
I liked that.
At noon, the company gathered for a short update.
Leena explained the next steps.
The board chair spoke.
Then I said a few words.
I thanked the people who had continued doing their jobs while the company’s leadership changed.
I acknowledged the uncertainty.
I spoke about the care they had shown the business and one another.
I did not mention Jasmine.
I did not mention Margaret.
I did not turn my marriage into an inspirational lesson for people who wanted to get back to work.
Afterward, I sat in an empty meeting room with my laptop.
The company-wide channel was still there.
I had not posted in it since the night everything began.
For several minutes, I looked at the blank message box.
Then I typed.
Today is my final day in my role with Alder House’s controlling investment in Prescott Global.
Thank you for your work, your patience, and the professionalism you have shown through a difficult transition.
I wish you and the company every success.
Claire.
I read it.
Removed a sentence that sounded too much like a speech.
Then I sent it.
This time, I did not watch the reactions.
I closed the laptop.
Leena stood in the doorway.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
We walked toward the elevators.
At the lobby, Mara asked whether I wanted her to call a car.
“No.”
“It’s a nice day.”
Outside, the city moved around me.
Delivery trucks.
People carrying lunch.
A cyclist arguing with a driver.
Nothing had stopped because a part of my life had ended.
I walked two blocks before realizing I was smiling.
