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“You’re a great sales manager. No question. But the position of director requires a separate set of skills.”

I didn’t think he could get angrier, but that did it. “You’regoing to tell meI’munqualified to run the company?”

Astrid had not thought Malcolm was cut out to be director. In fact, such a possibility had never crossed her mind. I was surprised it had crossed Malcolm’s. If he was honest with himself, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t evenwantthe job.

I said, “It’s not an either-or situation. We could bring on someone else as director. That’s one possibility. That’s all that’s going on here. I’m looking at possibilities.”

In fairness, that’s not how I’d made it sound to Matilda. At lunch I’d made it sound like I planned on selling. But confronted with the reality of Malcolm and what he represented, the understanding that I was toying with other people’s lives and livelihoods, had a sobering effect.

He burst out, “You have no right!”

That was pure emotion talking because he knew perfectly well that I had every right.

But I could see that behind the anger was fear—and maybe that wasn’t unreasonable because he knew that I was emotionally shaky and liable to do something we all regretted. It was just surprising to me that he was so concerned about, well, other people. Our employees. I guess I’d always underestimated him.

I said, trying to reassure, “When the holidays are over, we’ll hold an upper management meeting and everyone can have their say. I’m not trying to ruin anyone’s life. I’m just trying to figure out what I want the rest of mine to look like.”

He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his coat, drew a long, long breath and let it out slowly. “All right. I understand. But most people will not. You did something incredibly foolish by talking to that reporter. It’s not going to be long before word is out that you’re considering selling Bredahl’s. No one’s going to think that’s anything but terrible news.”

“It’s not—”

He spoke over me. “Not everyone believes you’re innocent, Casper. A lot of people think you got away with murder. And now you’re talking openly about taking away their jobs.” He shook his head. “If something happens, you’ve only yourself to blame.”

Chapter Six

I slid into what had once been our regular booth at Cutter’s Mill Bar and Grill, and Dax said, “If I was a betting man, I’d have said you weren’t going to show tonight.”

“Youarea betting man.”

He grinned. “True. To think I could have made a killing!” He studied me for a moment. “You look a lot better than you did yesterday.”

“I got a haircut.”

“I heard.” Dax’s mother owned The Mane Attraction, Little Copenhagen’s only hair salon and barber shop, which meant, among other things, that Dax had always been an inexhaustible source of gossip, rumor, and innuendo. He waved the waitress over. “Lemon drop martini?” He asked me.

I assented.

Had it always been this crowded in here on a Friday night? This noisy? This bright? It was seven o’clock and everyone was already half-lit.

The waitress stepped away, and Dax folded his arms on the table, regarding me. “What have you been up to today?”

“That question feels pointed.”

He grimaced in acknowledgement. “Word on the street is you’re planning to sell Bredahl’s.”

I was a little surprised—dismayed, in fact.

“That’s…”

“Not true, I hope.”

“Spreading a lot faster than expected.”

Dax shook his head. “Jesus, Caz. You’re not seriously planning to sell?”

“It’s one of many options. That’s all. I don’t haveanyplans as of yet.”

“You know that’s not what Astrid would have wanted.”