How to Solve a Murder with a Princess (EBOOK)

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Prologue
Grace


They want to kill me.
I can tell by the look in their eyes, the piercing hatred. I can tell by scowls so deeply carved on their faces it’s a new Grand Canyon. I can tell by their mannerisms, the gripping of pens so tightly it’s like they want to stab it into my eye and through my head.
But mostly, it’s the feel in the room. There is a tense anger that ripples like a riptide. I taste it in my mouth like charcoal.
I want to leave the room and vomit.
I want to run away.
I want to start this day over.
My legs shake, like I’m about to dance the jitterbug. I shiver at the thought of the coming confrontation. Acid roils in my stomach. Sweat forms. Was that a drop that rolled down my back? They think I’m weak. The images flashing through my head are all the ways I might die in the coming minutes. No, seconds.
Death by a boardroom pen.
I take a few slow, deep breaths. I never thought this would be easy. Facing a boardroom of men who want to control my opinions like I’m a puppet on stage? Nope. I stay in my seat and grit my teeth. I knew this wouldn’t be a cake walk.
I don’t want to leave or start over, because I know what my dad wanted for this company before he died. That’s why I’m here. To be his voice. He didn’t want to sell the company to the bigger apparel company in New England, like a shark swallowing a fish, even though the offer is tempting.
The whole room looks at me, all of them, the board of my dad’s company: Klein Active Apparel; and with a gulp, I stare back, try to look confident.
There is Henry, George, and James. Stuffy older men, in my view anyway. They remind me of vultures circling their prey. They must be around my dad’s age. I stare at Seymour, the younger guy in the room. What I didn’t expect: his glare is just as piercing but not quite as furious. Is that sympathy I see? And then, there’s Carl, my dad’s best friend. He’s like a second father to me.
His expression softens as he’s on the receiving end of my icy return.
“Okay, Princess, like you know what you’re talking about,” George drawls in a voice so heavy with condescension I’m surprised the weight of it doesn’t send him crashing through the floor.
“You were never interested in the company before,” Henry says. It comes out a snivel, a whine.
“I think we know what your dad wanted for the company,” James says, pompous, like he knows all. He huffs, leaning back in his swivel chair. “This is a non-issue. She doesn’t have the controlling vote. We could finish this today with one motion. We have the votes.”
“My name is not Princess. It’s Grace,” I reprimand, and fast, I’m losing the fear and the shivers. Nothing enrages me like being called by the stupid moniker that has haunted me since high school.
“Okay, Princess.” It’s Seymour, so typical. He knows the history behind it as we were in school together and he knows how much I hate it. Too bad his devastating good looks are ruined by his personality.
All the men laugh, like it’s hilarious, like it’s the best joke ever told, and I wonder, not for the first time, why my dad worked with these men.
Carl speaks. “That’s enough. Knock it off.” The guys stop laughing. With my dad gone, Carl is the captain steering the ship. “Yes, we could vote right now, but we’re going to respect the man we all loved and looked up to. See if we can come to an agreement.” He looks at me, voice soft, “Grace, why don’t we head to The Birches this weekend. It’s beautiful on the lake in the fall. We can take a weekend to relax and chat about this again more civilly. With food and drinks.” He sends a warning look to the rest of the men. They stay quiet.
“J-just us?” To The Birches? It’s the house in Lakewood. It’s the one thing my father left me in his will that’s all mine, that I don’t have to fight anyone for. It’s in the original will, so no one can fight it. No, my mother wasn’t happy about it, but she knows she’s welcome to use it any time. My dad would want that. The company, on the other hand, is only partially mine. I don’t have complete control. I never wanted it either. It’s one more way my dad, from the grave, is pushing me into the family business.
A part of me feels like an idiot. I must look shocked and stupid in front of these men, but it’s the last thing I thought they’d suggest. A whole weekend together? “Well, perhaps a catered breakfast at my mom’s one morning.” Anything but The Birches. “Or a reserved room at a restaurant. That Italian one downtown.”
Carl smiles. “That’s a possibility, but I’ve learned over the years that there’s nothing like the serenity of the lake, holding a cup of coffee in the chilly morning on the deck, hearing the birds, to solve problems.”
I hold back a scoff. He means, maybe I’ll be more pliable and obedient. The other men are nodding, like they agree with Carl. “I still think—”
“Can’t keep up with the men, Princess?” Seymour cracks.
Now I want to grab a boardroom pen and stab it in his eye.
I plaster on a smile that is so fake and forced, my cheeks hurt. “Sure, it’s a swell idea.” Swell? Why would I use that word? “This weekend. Just the board.”
Great.
It will be the absolute worst weekend of my life for more than one reason. Not only will I have to listen to these men try and persuade me away from my father’s wishes, but I will be drowning in memories of my father and high school. As long as I stay away from town, from the harbor, and stay at the house, I should be fine.
I’ll be fine.