Chapter 4 - The Sound of Ice Cracking
*In the event of debt covenant forbearance, FJW Capital LLC retains unilateral authority over all commercial leasing, private event licensing, and emergency property closures, superseding the General Manager and the Board of Governors.*
Finn had never set foot on the golf course. He didn't play golf. He had never used the clubhouse dining room until the tasting last week, which had been booked under Florence’s name. He had treated the investment as an asset on a ledger, overseen by an asset manager who sent him quarterly distribution checks.
Robert Harrison, the General Manager of the club, had dealt exclusively with Finn’s legal team in downtown San Francisco. To Charles Blackstone, Robert Harrison was a subservient club employee who bowed when Charles entered the locker room. To Robert Harrison, Charles Blackstone was a member whose dues were frequently forty-five days past due.
And Finn Williams was the man who owned the dirt under their spikes.
Finn picked up his Montblanc pen. He looked at the vendor invoices. Then he looked at Margaret.
"Call Amanda at the Blackwood Crest private events office," Finn said softly. "Don't tell her who you are yet. Just ask if the final balance for the Williams-Blackstone wedding has been remitted."
Margaret picked up the desk phone, dialed the extension listed on the invoice, and put it on speaker.
A cheerful, polished voice answered after two rings. "Blackwood Crest Events, this is Amanda."
"Good morning, Amanda," Margaret said, her voice smooth and professional. "I’m calling to verify the payment status for the Williams-Blackstone wedding scheduled for Saturday."
"Ah, yes! The Blackstone affair," Amanda said, her tone dripping with reverence. "We are just waiting on the final wire confirmation from Mr. Williams’s office. It was due by noon today. We’ve already had calls from Mrs. Blackstone’s decorator regarding setup access tomorrow morning at dawn."
"And if that wire is not sent?" Margaret asked.
A polite, practiced chuckle came over the line. "Well, as per our standard master contract, any event without cleared funds forty-eight hours prior is automatically suspended. But of course, with Charles Blackstone hosting, we anticipate no issues. We know how these prominent families operate."
"Thank you, Amanda," Margaret said, and ended the call.
The office fell silent again.
Finn closed the beige folder. He looked at the photograph of Florence on the shelf. In that picture, she had a missing front tooth and had scraped her knee on the boardwalk stairs. He had carried her all the way to the car, three miles in the ocean fog, her small arms wrapped around his neck, whispering, *Daddy, you're strong.*
"Margaret," Finn said.
"Yes, sir?"
"Do not send the wire."
Margaret blinked, her breath catching. "None of it?"
"Not a cent," Finn replied. "Not to the club. Not to the florist. Not to Le Cirque Catering. Not to the chamber orchestra. And issue immediate stop-payment notices on the floral and rental deposits where fraud or breach of terms can be asserted based on the guarantor's exclusion."
"Finn," Margaret said, her voice trembling slightly with the sheer magnitude of the strike. "They will descend into total chaos."
Finn stood up. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out toward the Santa Cruz mountains that separated his empire from the manicured lawns of Blackwood Crest.
May you like
"They wanted an event of breeding, Margaret," Finn said, his voice quiet, cold, and clear as arctic ice. "They wanted purity of lineage. Let them pay for it with their own blood."
***
