The call came on a Monday morning at eight forty-two.I was in the elevator on my way to a board briefing when my phone rang — Richard's assistant, a woman named Carol who had worked for him for nineteen years and who had, in the four months I had known her, maintained a professional composure so consistent it had become its own form of communication. When Carol was calm, things were manageable. When Carol's voice carried a specific quality of controlled urgency that I had never heard from her before, I understood immediately that something had changed."Ms. Caldwell," she said. "Mr. Caldwell has been taken to Detroit Medical Center. He asked me to call you directly."I stepped out of the elevator."What happened," I said. Not a question. The flat, efficient register of someone who needed facts in the order of their importance."A cardiac episode this morning," Carol said. "He was at the office at seven thirty — he's always here at seven thirty — and his assistant noticed he was — not
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