Kendrick requested the meeting.
That was important. He'd thought about it on the way over — about the specific dynamic of requesting versus being summoned, about how his father would read each one, about how the conversation would be shaped by who had initiated it.
He'd requested it because he needed to be the one who started this.
Richard's assistant showed him in at two o'clock exactly.
The study in the Walker family residence was a room Kendrick had known since childhood. Floor-to-ceiling shelves. A desk that had belonged to his grandfather. Two chairs angled toward the window that looked out over the garden — the chairs his father used when he wanted a conversation to feel like a conversation rather than a meeting.
Richard was standing at the window when Kendrick came in.
He turned.
"Kendrick." He gestured toward the chairs. "Sit down."
"I'll stand."
A brief pause.
Richard looked at him.
