The Last Day

FORTY-THREE

Filled with outrage that clinched his stomach like a vise, Ward pressed down hard on the pedal and tossed The Charlotte Observer into the trash can's open mouth, letting the lid slam shut.

Natasha rubbed his forearm. “They only say you are the CEO of RGI, and that the virus originated from a computer in your office. Nothing we can do about it. It's all just innuendo and speculation.”

“Innuendo sucks. Unk gets the mud splashed on him, too,” Ward said. “I sure as hell can do something about it. I'll cancel our subscription.”

Natasha laughed. “That'll teach them.”

“Perception doesn't go away.”

“They'll find out who doc'd the box,” Natasha said.

“ ‘Doc'd the box’?” Todd asked.

“I think it sounds really techy,” Natasha said. “A play on… you know.”

Todd laughed easily.

“I've really missed your sense of humor.” Ward smiled, leaned over, and kissed his wife. “I've decided that I'm going to sell the company.” He looked up into Natasha's eyes, waiting for her response.

“To Dibble?” Natasha asked, taking a sip of water.

“It's the only offer on the table. With the money we can move and start over somewhere. Maybe Seattle.” When he said it, he had a thought that rocked him to his core. And leave Barney here? He wondered if the same thought hit his wife, because he saw her eyes lose their focus for a second. Or was she thinking about the partnership offer from her old professor?

“I just can't picture Trey Dibble running your father's company. I'm afraid I'm going to have to vote against it.”

“I think Dibble is behind the virus,” Todd said. “I don't think it's Lander Electric. Except for your son's accident, they're squeakyclean. This is just business with them, and with Dibble it's probably more personal than business. Everything I've found out about Trey Dibble tells me he's one seriously ruined bowl of fruit. He hangs with some pretty rough customers-some of which are known drug dealers and one connected to organized crime.”

“I have no choice, Natasha. You've seen how people look at me, how your own patients turned against you. How many of our many friends have showed up at the driveway or tried to see us to show their support?”

“The problem is my patients’ parents,” Natasha said, smiling sadly “My patients like me.”