Chapter 1 - THE EMPTY CHAIR
Derek Cole dragged seven-year-old Eli toward the front door so fast the boy’s bare feet skidded across the polished floor.
“Uncle Derek, stop!”
Derek ripped the door open.
Cold November air rushed into the foyer.
He shoved Eli onto the porch.
“GET OUT! STAY OUT THERE!”
Eli stumbled, turned, and reached desperately back toward him.
“Please! Let me in!”
Derek slammed the door.
Inside, Thanksgiving dinner continued beneath a chandelier bright enough to make the silverware glitter.
Kristen Cole glanced once toward the glass.
Then calmly sat beside her husband again.
Outside, Eli pounded on the door.
“PLEASE!”
Derek lifted his wine.
He did not turn around.
Several minutes later, Eli stopped pounding.
He curled against the porch wall, arms around his thin T-shirt, trembling.
That was how Raymond found him.
Raymond had returned from his car after forgetting a box of bakery pies.
He saw a small figure beside the stone column.
“Eli?!”
The boy lifted his wet face.
Raymond dropped the box.
He tore off his black winter coat, wrapped Eli tightly, then lifted him against his chest.
“Who did this?”
Eli pointed toward the dining room.
Raymond’s face changed.
He carried his son to the door and kicked it open.
The room froze.
“WHO THREW MY SON OUT?!”
Derek rose.
“Raymond, calm down.”
Raymond stepped forward and slapped him once across the face.
“How dare you throw my son out?!”
Derek staggered sideways.
Kristen dropped her fork.
Eli clung around Raymond’s neck.
Derek touched his cheek.
“You don’t know what he did.”
“He’s seven.”
“He repeated something he had no business hearing.”
Raymond looked at Eli.
“What did you say?”
Eli sniffed.
“Uncle Derek said there won’t be a chair for you next Thanksgiving.”
Silence.
Raymond frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Derek’s expression hardened.
“Nothing.”
Eli shook his head.
“He said after tomorrow, Dad’s chair is gone.”
Raymond slowly looked at the long dining table.
Every seat was filled except one at the far end.
An empty chair stood beside a brass place card engraved with his initials:
R.C.
Raymond had not noticed it when he arrived.
Now he noticed something else.
Beside the plate was a sealed black folder.
His name was printed on it.
Derek moved toward the chair.
Raymond said:
“Don’t touch it.”
Derek stopped.
Raymond opened the folder.
The first page looked like ordinary annual family-company paperwork.
Then he read the title of page three.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF PERMANENT WITHDRAWAL FROM ACTIVE MANAGEMENT.
Raymond looked up.
“I never withdrew.”
Kristen whispered:
“Derek…”
But Derek was staring at Eli.
Not angry anymore.
Afraid.
Raymond turned the page.
At the bottom was a signature dated eleven months earlier.
May you like
His signature.
And Raymond knew immediately that he had never signed it.
