Chapter 6 - The Social Exile

Sunday brought a quiet that Chicago only experiences after a heavy snowfall, but inside the private Peterson circles, the silence was deafening.
Carol Peterson had served as the vice-chair of the Lake Forest Botanical Society and the executive board of the Children’s Memorial Guild for nearly a decade. Her entire identity was tied to the invitations she distributed and the social calendars she dictated.
At eleven in the morning, the executive director of the Children’s Memorial Guild released a brief, devastating public statement: *In light of recent legal developments, Mrs. Carol Peterson has tendered her immediate resignation from all executive and advisory roles, effective immediately.*
She hadn't tendered anything. She had been purged. The board members, women who had sipped chardonnay at Carol’s dining table only days before, moved with ruthless speed to protect their donor base. A family facing charges of felony child endangerment was toxic.
At the brownstone, moving vans were nowhere to be seen. Frank was still in denial.
I sat in Zoe’s living room, watching Lily paint watercolors at the kitchen island. She was laughing, dipping her brush into bright blues and yellows, completely unaware of the institutional collapse occurring across town.
My phone chimed with an email notification from Frank’s personal legal counsel, Arthur Davies—an old, patrician lawyer who had represented the Petersons since the 1980s.
*Dear Mrs. Peterson,* the letter began, abandoning the formal pleasantries. *My client, Frank Peterson, requests an emergency, off-the-record conference at our offices tomorrow morning. We are prepared to discuss structured terms regarding the Horizon Capital note, the Astor Street title, and a mutual non-disparagement agreement concerning the pending charges against Megan Peterson.*
Zoe leaned over my shoulder, reading the text. “They're begging for a settlement.”
“They don't want a settlement,” I said, scrolling to the bottom of the email. “They want Megan’s record expunged and the eviction halted before the sheriff shows up on Tuesday morning.”
“What are you going to do?” Zoe asked.
I closed the laptop. “I’m going to meet with them. But not off the record. And not at Davies’ office. They will come here, to Harrison & Vance, at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. If Frank, Carol, and Mark want to save what is left of their lives, they will sit across from me and sign exactly what I place in front of them.”
“And Megan?”
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“Megan doesn't get a deal,” I said, looking over at Lily’s painting. “Megan gets the justice system.”
***