Bell.
He provided only the necessary explanation.
“An independent review has identified seven payments to an event logistics company for which the club has not yet received satisfactory supporting documentation.
The matter remains under investigation.”
Audrey’s expression changed immediately.
“Those were legitimate expenses!”
“Then you’ll be able to document them,” I replied.
My mother stepped between us.
“Lena, whatever this is, we’re family.”
“That doesn’t make the records less important.”
Audrey grabbed her handbag.
“I’m calling our lawyer.”
“Please do.
He can communicate with the independent counsel handling the review.”
Mr.
Bell invited us into a private conference room near the library.
The gala resumed behind us, though I knew our confrontation would become the subject of every conversation in Savannah by morning.
Inside the conference room, Daniel Foster was already waiting.
The room smelled faintly of coffee and polished wood.
A long table separated us from the windows overlooking the river.
Daniel stood when we entered.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
“I understand this meeting happened earlier than anticipated.”
Audrey dropped into a chair.
“I’m not answering questions without my attorney.”
“You’re not required to,” Daniel replied.
“For now, we’re explaining the club’s administrative decisions and providing notice of our findings.
Your attorney can respond.”
He opened a second folder.
Inside were copies of the seven invoices, bank records, and vendor correspondence.
Silver Reed Event Logistics had billed the club for services that our review could not verify.
Some payments went through an account connected to Audrey’s private event business.
The review also found that several authorization packets carried my mother’s approval as honorary patron, although her role did not give her independent authority to disburse club funds.
A former club controller had approved the transactions without obtaining proper vendor verification.
He had already been placed on administrative leave pending the review.
Audrey insisted the transfers were advances for future events.
Daniel asked for the corresponding contracts.
She said her accountant had them.
He asked for the names of the actual subcontractors.
She said she would provide them through counsel.
Then my mother spoke.
“Some of the money went toward expenses we intended to repay.”
Audrey turned sharply.
“Mom.
Stop talking.”
The room became very quiet.
Daniel folded his hands.
“Mrs.
Mercer, are you saying club funds were used for expenses unrelated to the authorized event budget?”
My mother stared at the table.
“I’m saying things became complicated.”
I looked at her.
“What things?”
She did not answer.
Instead, Daniel introduced another document.
It concerned Charles Voss, the developer who had tried to purchase Hawthorne Point before Tideglass acquired it.
The correspondence described a proposed payment of $90,000 to an intermediary if Voss successfully purchased the club following further financial distress.
The intermediary was Audrey.
Suddenly, the missing payments looked different.
I had assumed someone was exploiting weak financial controls to obtain money.
Now there was evidence suggesting Audrey stood to benefit if the club deteriorated enough to become an attractive distressed acquisition.
I turned toward her.
“Were you deliberately trying to bankrupt this place?”
She stared at me.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell me what the agreement with Voss means.”
My mother’s phone vibrated.
She glanced at it and went pale.
“Charles is here,” she whispered.
A moment later, someone knocked on
