The Zaanics Deceit (Cate Lyr #1)

by Nina Post

“No, he had to work, too.”

  Peter clinked a glass by the rose garden and announced that the family would be having a private celebration and that the guests were welcome to stay longer if they wished.

  “I say don’t wait to tell them,” Noah said. “Whatever it is. Never wait. But you know what? I’m being a hypocrite when I say that.”

  She wanted to say something, wanted to ask why he looked sad, but then he leaned over and hugged her, a real, warm, arms-wrapped-tightly-around-her hug. It wasn’t until years later she realized it was the last time she felt genuinely safe and protected, and it only lasted five seconds.

  “I’ll see you soon?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Soon.”

  Once he was out of sight, she put her glass on a passing server’s tray and headed to the library with a flipping stomach, wishing Noah could go with her.

  Chapter 5

  Cate tried to picture her father without a desk in front of him, and failed.

  A desk had stood between them for years, and this wasn’t any different. As she closed the library door behind her and met eyes with her father, her sisters, and their husbands, all unsmiling, she had to stop herself from fleeing. Benjamin, standing by the door to her immediate right, must have expected her reticence because he put a hand on her upper back and nudged her gently until she moved forward.

  The name Aaron Lyr was everywhere: business books, crystal trophies, plaques, autographed photos of him standing by his trucks and planes and container ships — from 6,000 to more than 15,000 capacity, Cate knew. The name wasn’t on his desk, though, because if you were in this room, you knew who he was.

  Her father stood behind his mahogany desk, hooded dark eyes watching sharply above black-suited shoulders, his shock of abundant swan-white hair swept back from a broad and creased forehead. The room had a lingering smell of old leather, lemon polish, whisky, and coffee-scented cigars. Cate wondered if he had been celebrating earlier?

  Her two older sisters, Gaelen and Romane, stood to the left of the desk. Gaelen’s expression resembled a jungle cat after a meal of hard-to-get prey, but Romane had nails to spit out of her mouth.

  Jason Boreas, Romane’s husband, stood next to Romane. Jason had light-brown/blond hair and bored blue eyes. He underdressed more than she would expect for someone who managed an emerging markets hedge fund specializing in international securities, which he’d mentioned so many times that it was burned into Cate’s mind like an ad jingle she wished she’d never heard. For the ceremony, Jason wore khakis and a blue collared shirt, which Cate thought might be a passive expression of hostility against his wife and her older sister. Jason gave the impression that in a recent past, he was thinner and better-looking, but since then, everything just kind of slipped.

  Philip Grayden, Gaelen’s husband, wasn’t smug like Jason, but had a pained expression befitting a manual prostate or colon exam. She couldn’t remember what he did for work, but when you were Gaelen’s husband and mild-mannered in addition to that, you probably just disappeared. Both sisters had kept the Lyr name after they married. In Gaelen’s case, Cate figured, it was because she didn’t want to be Gaelen Grayden, but mostly because the Lyr name had more cachet than their husband’s names, at least in her sisters’ minds.

  Her father beckoned his attorney with a finger. Benjamin walked away from the wall and approached the desk.

  “Do you have the documents, Mr. Nightjar?” Cate’s father asked in his stentorian voice.

  Finally, they were putting Gaelen and Romane up for adoption, Cate thought.

  She knew that Benjamin, as the Lyr family attorney, would have drawn up the legal documents that passed the formal ownership of Zaanics to the next generation — to Gaelen.

  “I do.” Benjamin placed the paperwork precisely in front of Cate’s father, who put on his reading glasses and leaned over the papers. “These are based on the same template that was used for the transfer in the previous generation, but I did update a few sections to make them more consistent with contemporary contract law.”

  After a few minutes of checking them over, Lyr straightened and nodded. Benjamin specialized in contract law, but dabbled in other areas as needed for the Lyr and the Severn families, as well as his other clients.

  Cate wanted — and realized this was hopelessly Little Women of her and a flaw that would bring her only pain — she wanted her news to foster a warmth that had long been missing from their relationships. But her family wasn’t exactly the March family.

  Her father rose from his chair and walked around to the front of his desk, leaning against it and crossing his arms. “As a multigenerational family business, we depend on trustworthy stewards to pilot the corporation. But our family also has the unique responsibility of protecting and passing down a language.”

  Her father’s voice was rumbling and sonorous. She shivered and rubbed her arms.

  “Zaanics has been under the protection of the Lyr family since its creation in the mid-fourteenth century.”

  It didn’t skip Cate’s attention that he didn’t bother mentioning the Severn family and their guardianship of VZ’s Yesuþoh.

  “It was created to protect a startling, detailed vision of the future. Lyr Logistics, and the Lyr family, also has a vision of the future. A vision of the future for my three beautiful daughters by my dearly missed wife, Marit.”

  Cate blinked. Her father almost never mentioned their mother.

  Her father made eye contact with her and her sisters. “I have established a dynasty trust that gives majority ownership of Lyr Logistics, to be shared among the three of you.”

  What was he talking about? Her father had never let Cate be involved in the company.

  “I started working for Lyr Logistics,” her father continued, “a company that our family built in the late thirteenth century as a shipping and transportation concern, when I was eleven years old. But at some point, it will be time for me to exit the stage, just as my father did. Just as the Lyrs have passed down Zaanics, we cede control of the company to the next generation. The shares in the trust I’ve established will vest when my daughters reach their thirtieth year, and will be divided equally among Gaelen, Romane, and Cate. As majority owners, my daughters will be empowered to elect a board of their choosing, and accordingly, to name a chief executive who will then pilot Lyr Logistics into the future.”

  Cate’s mouth dropped open. She had never been invited to so much as deliver the company’s mail, and she’d made her peace with that. She already chose another path, a graduate degree in history.

  “With that said, I have decided on a further matter. Nearly twenty-five years ago, I chose Gaelen Eris Lyr, my eldest, to be the student of Zaanics. My remarkable daughter devoted hours every week, for years, after school and on weekends, to fulfill this incredibly important duty and learn the Lyr family’s part: to speak and converse in Zaanics at the level of a master.”

  Gaelen smiled and nodded once to her father, slowly, in acknowledgment.

  “If the families, God forfend, see the need to access the books and read the vision within our lifetimes, Gaelen will be the Lyr family representative. It will also be her responsibility to teach the language to one of her children. And I hope, with all my heart, that I live to see that day.”

  Cate suppressed a shudder. Gaelen with children?

  “It was not easy,” Gaelen joked, and followed it with a throaty laugh.

  “With that said, I have made a modification to my plan.”

  Gaelen looked pre-angry and Romane looked intrigued.

  “I have decided …” Lyr paused, making eye contact with each of them, ending with Cate. “I have decided to share governance of Zaanics between my eldest daughter Gaelen and my youngest daughter Cate.”

  Gaelen whipped her head around to Cate, who immediately thought of a T. Rex. Romane’s mouth was in an o-shape, each of her plucked-into-submission brows spiked into a circumflex.

  “They will both hold responsibility of learnin
g and continuing to learn Zaanics. They will each pass the training to one of their children.”

  Cate had a sinking feeling this wasn’t a good idea. Her father already chose Gaelen. Why would he include her now? Did he know? She glanced at Benjamin and they had a quick conversation with just their eyes. He gave her the most subtle look in response, one she interpreted as ‘I had no idea.’

  Her father clapped his hands together and rubbed them together in front of his chest. “In light of this change, and as a gesture of acknowledgment, I would like each of my daughters to say something to me.”

  “In what respect, Papa?” Gaelen asked, with a deferential but slightly confused smile.

  “Nothing elaborate. Just a brief speech.”

  “A tribute?” Gaelen added with a twist to her red lips.

  Her father nodded once, slowly. “That would be welcome. Gaelen, my eldest, my gaaþeh, why don’t you speak first.”

  Gaelen smiled, straightened slightly, clasped her hands at her front. “Papa, I love you beyond what the greatest poets have put into words. You are dearer to me than beauty, beyond any possession I could ever have, and certainly no less than honor, integrity, humility, and life itself. You are as beloved to me as much as any father since the australopithecines was ever loved by their daughter.”

  Cate nearly choked.

  “Beyond all of those things I love you, and I am profoundly grateful of your teaching.”

  He wouldn’t fall for this, would he? After all, Gaelen wasn’t grateful for the teaching — she resented the hell out of it and hated that she didn’t have a choice in the matter.

  Cate wanted to be done with this whole business, yearned to tell them her news and get back in her own apartment, away from her family, who were like scary simulacra at the moment. And the lies … were they obvious to anyone else? She looked around the room, but didn’t see the appropriate expression: incredulity, and maybe a grudging admiration of her sister’s brazenness. Benjamin’s expression was carefully neutral.

  “Thank you for that affecting tribute, Gaelen. What does my second daughter say?” her father looked to Romane.

  “I am of the same mind as my sister,” Romane said, hands clasped in front of her demurely in an imitation of Gaelen. “And so you should value me at her worth. Gaelen put her eloquent words to my innermost heart, but fell short.”

  Cate saw that Gaelen’s mouth quirked at the corner.

  “Without you, Papa,” Romane continued, “my life would be inured to all other joys that sense can provide. Despite my sister’s display of filial devotion, I believe that I alone dote on you, Papa.”

  “Thank you, Romane. Now,” her father said, fixing his eyes on Cate’s, “our joy, our last, what can you say to compete with your sisters?”

  Oh Enæyne, it’s my turn. Cate’s heart fluttered like the wings of a trapped moth. “I don’t have anything to say.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.” Her sisters were so two-faced, so hyperbolical, there wasn’t any point in trying to best them. Besides, she had no interest in trying. She loved her father, but she resented being put in this position.

  Her father gave her a quizzical look. “Nothing begets nothing. Try again.”

  This wasn’t how the language ceremony was supposed to go. There were parameters set down by generations before them, and telling the patriarch he was the very model of paternal attentiveness wasn’t part of it.

  “I love you in accordance with our bond,” Cate said, her heart up in her throat, not knowing how to say what she meant without sounding stilted. Of course she loved him, but she was getting married soon, and the family she would make would be her priority.

  “This is not a contractual relationship,” her father said. “Change your speech before you mar your fortunes.”

  Cate looked down at the Turkish carpet and took in a deep breath. This wasn’t right. Her father only wanted reassurance that he could still claim complete devotion, even though he wasn’t accessible to them.

  She tried to clarify what she meant. “I can’t marry and love you with every possible ounce of my care and duty. My priority is the man who will be my husband and the family we start together. But I love you as a grateful daughter loves a father who provided well for her.”

  A cloud passed over her father’s face, but she had to hold her ground. They all assumed they could intimidate her, but it had to stop.

  Gaelen smirked at her.

  “You expect our undivided love and attention in return for your material generosity,” Cate said to him. “But emotionally, Papa, you’re as far away as the sun.” It terrified her to say it, but Cate doubted he’d listen. He’d take it as an affront to his control of the room and everyone in it.

  “So young and yet so querulous?” her father spoke lightly and seemed amused but she could hear the klaxon sounding.

  “It’s true.” A bud of anger started to sprout inside her. She was insulted that he would manipulate them like this. But her sisters were manipulating him right back.

  “Your truth will be your inheritance, then,” her father said. “I gave you everything, and get this in return?”

  Benjamin stepped forward. “Mr. Lyr — ”

  “Mr. Nightjar,” her father said with an edge to his words. “This is none of your concern. Don’t overstep your boundaries. Let pride claim my daughter.”

  Benjamin put out his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Perhaps you should step back from this before you say something you’ll regret.”

  Her father encroached on Benjamin’s personal space, edging forward. “This is a family matter and you are an outsider.” He spit out the last word. Benjamin looked stricken, but then took on a look of equanimity, like he was thinking, ‘Thank heaven for that.’

  Her father turned away from Benjamin and skulked toward her, shoulders tense, a cyclone brewing behind his eyes. Cate straightened her spine and set her jaw firm as he got right in front of her. There wasn’t exasperated affection in his eyes, only scorn. It was as though their history together had never happened.

  Don’t cry, don’t cry …. you’re strong. You’re a Lyr. She clenched her teeth together.

  Her father kept his dark eyes on her. “Benjamin,” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly and reverberating in the large room. “Amend those documents. Cate gets no share of the company and no part of the language.”

  Her blood ran cold, not to lose what she never had in the first place, but from the whiplash of it. Why would he offer these things to her, then take them right back like she had utterly failed him?

  “Gaelen and Romane will share majority control of Lyr Logistics, and Gaelen will continue as the sole steward and guardian of Zaanics.” Her father paused a moment. “And as a condition to retaining their board seats during the transition, I will inform the directors that they are strongly advised to name Gaelen as CEO of the company for an initial two year term, commencing on the date that her shares vest.”

  Gaelen looked pleased, like things had been set right.

  “The company will be split between Gaelen and Romane, who will together hold a 51% share five years from now,” Lyr stated.

  “You’re being rash, Mr. Lyr,” Benjamin said. “Cate doesn’t love you least.”

  Cate flicked her eyes over to Gaelen, whose expression said that five years was like an eternity. Then she reached out a hand to her father, not caring about either of those things, but bewildered that he would hurt her like this.

  Her father pointed at Benjamin then walked closer to Cate. “And remove Cate from my will.”

  Someone gasped, but she didn’t know who. Maybe she did.

  Her father leaned in, his Acqua di Parma cologne drifting past her. “You are no longer welcome in this house. You are no longer a part of this family. You are no longer my daughter. These are not your sisters. Do you understand me?”

  Even Gaelen seemed speechless and frozen. Shaking and lightheaded, Cate put a hand over her trembling mouth, then over
her stomach. She wanted to be far, far away. Across the world. “You can’t mean that,” she whispered, her head held high but her voice quavering.

  “Mr. Lyr,” Benjamin said, like a hostage negotiator. “Cate has done nothing wrong. This is a rash decision you must reconsider with a cooler head.”

  Cate’s father turned his broad shoulders toward Benjamin and glared, nostrils flaring. “You have no say in this matter, Mr. Nightjar. You work for me.”

  “Yes,” Benjamin said, “but it is also my duty to keep the Zaanics books safe for the Lyr and Severn families, and this is the Zaanics ceremony. I will turn over my obligation when I die or when I can no longer perform my duties, but not before. So I believe that I do have a say in this matter.”

  Cate wondered if her father was considering the options for ‘when I die.’

  “I’m warning you, Nightjar,” her father said.

  “I cannot remain impartial,” Benjamin said. “You made a mistake choosing Gaelen as the Zaanics steward, and you’re making a terrible mistake now — one you won’t be able to fix.”

  Cate knew Benjamin had just made enemies of Gaelen and her father. He had to know it, too, and though he wouldn’t care on a personal level, Benjamin was sensitive to how Lyr family politics could make his job hell. That’s why he had normally stayed out of it. Until now.

  She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep standing.

  “I don’t have room in my life for an ungrateful daughter who deserts her family,” her father said.

  She didn’t desert anyone. Why was he saying that?

  Benjamin looked to Gaelen and Romane. “Time will tell if your words of love inspire similar actions, but I imagine hunger and poverty will be eradicated first.” He looked at her father. “Cate’s probity was never in question. How she did something in this moment to reverse your favor of her is beyond my understanding.”

  Cate wanted to detract her father’s attention from Benjamin, and was weary of not being respected. She held out a hand to stop Benjamin and looked at her father, even though he wouldn’t look at her. “I did nothing to deprive myself of your love but lack something I think I’m better off for lacking.”