CHAPTER NINE — THE ROOM UPSTAIRS
The boardroom above the lobby was smaller than Nora expected.
Its walls were covered in photographs of donors shaking hands beside ceremonial ribbons.
An oval table occupied most of the space, and the remaining chairs had been pushed against the windows.
Martin stood beside a screen showing projected ticket sales.
Five board members sat with folders opened before them.
When Claire entered with Nora, Lena, Bernard, and Mrs. Doyle, the chairman raised an eyebrow.
“I understood this was a directors’ meeting,” he said.
“It is,” Claire answered.
“These people have information the directors need.”
Martin closed his laptop without saving the page.
“We can take employee comments after the contract questions are settled.”
“Their comments are contract questions,” Claire replied.
Nora placed the leather case on the table.
The music box looked out of place beside the polished presentation equipment.
The chairman introduced himself as Robert Fenwick and asked Nora what connection she had to Whitmore Industries.
“None,” she said.
He blinked.
“Then perhaps you can explain why you’re here.”
Nora described the older man entering the diner and the call that brought Claire to her door.
She omitted the twelve dollars until a board member asked why Henry would have chosen her.
“I bought him soup,” she said.
“He wasn’t feeling well, and he had no money with him.”
Martin leaned back.
“That’s touching, but what does it establish?”
“Nothing about your contract,” Nora answered.
“It explains why I’m standing here.”
Fenwick asked what she had observed.
Nora told him about the projected singer performing a song Marion had never recorded,
the artificial applause, and the orchestra directed to pretend it was playing.
A woman at the far end of the table frowned.
“I was told the orchestra would perform live.”
Lena explained how the production team had recorded the accompaniment the previous afternoon.
Martin said the prerecorded version was a temporary contingency.
“Then why did we receive a final cue sheet instructing the musicians to keep their bows off the strings?” Lena asked.
She passed the sheet to Fenwick.
Gideon, who had entered behind Martin, objected that rehearsal documents could change.
“Of course they can,” Lena said.
“That’s why I’m asking whether this one will.”
Fenwick read the cue sheet carefully.
“It identifies a complete playback track.”
“A synchronization precaution,” Gideon said.
Mrs. Doyle stepped forward with the old gown.
“They also ordered a duplicate made so a projected woman could appear to wear what Marion wore,” she said.
“They wanted me to remove the repairs because the repairs looked untidy.”
Martin shook his head.
“We are discussing stage design now.”
Mrs. Doyle spread the gown across the end of the table.
Small patches marked its seams, and several had been sewn with visibly different thread.
“She wore this because she loved it,” Mrs. Doyle replied.
“The repairs are part of the dress.”
A board member touched one sleeve.
“My mother worked here when Marion performed.”
For a moment nobody spoke.
Martin recovered first.
“The estate authorization specifically allows restoration and adaptation.”
Claire opened the contract in front of her.
“It allows adaptations approved by the estate’s designated representative.”
Martin looked irritated.
“That’s Henry.”
“And he has not approved the new song.”
“He verbally approved the initial concept.”
“That isn’t the same.”
Fenwick raised a hand.
“Let’s clarify the legal position before we embarrass ourselves in public.”
The board’s counsel, a woman named Elaine Park, explained that the agreement contained different permissions for image restoration, new composition, and promotional use.
The new composition required separate written approval.
Gideon looked toward Martin.
“You told us that approval was pending.”
Martin replied sharply.
“It is pending.”
“Then the song cannot be broadcast tomorrow,” Park said.
Martin pressed his palms against the table.
“If we miss the livestream window, our international partners can withdraw.”
Claire stared at him.
“You risked the entire project on a permission you didn’t have.”
Martin gave her a cold smile.
“I risked the project because somebody had to make it commercially viable.”
Nora watched him glance at the music box.
“Why does that bother you?” she asked.
Martin followed her gaze.
“It doesn’t.”
“You keep looking at it.”
He turned away.
“This has become a circus.”
Bernard spoke from beside the door.
“The theater’s safety access is blocked.”
Fenwick looked up again.
Bernard explained that a suspended speaker rack stood in front of the manual fire-curtain release.
Gideon insisted the rack could be moved in minutes.
Lena said it should have been moved before the workers were sent home.
Fenwick stood.
“Then we are going downstairs to look at it.”
Martin stared at him.
“Now?”
“We have people arriving for an event in less than twenty hours,” Fenwick replied.
“Now is exactly when we should look.”
