The Empty Chair at the Hearing
Chapter 14 - The Empty Chair at the Hearing
On the first morning of the financial fraud hearing, Adrian arrived carrying a small photograph of Lydia. He placed it inside his folder rather than showing it to the cameras.
The proceedings were less dramatic than the tabloids predicted. Lawyers introduced records. Experts explained accounting structures. Witnesses corrected dates, admitted uncertainty, and sometimes contradicted one another. Nobody shouted a confession across the courtroom.
Denise testified about the unusual transfers. Eva described her objections and dismissal. The document dated after Lydia's death was examined alongside evidence about the credentials used to submit it. Leonard answered questions about his work. Celeste's counsel challenged the reliability of the witnesses and disputed her involvement in directing the irregularities.
I attended only when needed. Sophie stayed in school, went to class, and worried mostly about a spelling test. I considered that a victory.
During a recess Celeste passed me in the corridor. She stopped a few feet away.
“Your daughter is talented,” she said.
I stared at her. I couldn't tell whether the words were sincere or another attempt to unsettle me.
“She was talented before your gala,” I answered.
Celeste looked down. “I shouldn't have spoken to her like that.”
“You shouldn't have struck me, either.”
She said nothing. I walked away. I didn't need an apology delivered in a hallway where no one else could hear it.
Months later, portions of the financial proceedings ended in guilty pleas and negotiated resolutions for several participants; other disputed matters continued. The record established significant diversion of grant funds and falsification of documents. Civil recovery efforts began. The review of Lydia's crash remained unresolved as to any criminal intent.
Adrian was disappointed by the limits of what could be proven, but he stopped talking about revenge. He talked instead about restitution to the schools that had lost their grants.
At home that evening, Sophie found me reading an article about the case.
“Is it over?” she asked.
“Not all of it.”
She frowned. “Then when do we get to be happy?”
I put down the phone. “We don't have to wait for every grown-up problem to be finished.”
She climbed into my lap.
“Can we make pancakes?”
May you like
“Yes.”
We made them for dinner. They were misshapen and delicious. Sophie declared the smallest one a swan, even though it looked more like a shoe.
