Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE GRAY COAT
Margaret Harrington closed her handbag.
Too quickly.
Edward noticed.
So did Olivia.
“Margaret,” Edward said, “why were you outside that pharmacy?”
His sister looked toward the wedding guests.
“This isn't the place.”
“You were there when I collapsed?”
Margaret took a careful breath.
“Yes.”
Olivia stared.
“You knew?”
“I knew Edward had been taken to the hospital.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Margaret looked at Grace.
“You shouldn't have brought this up here.”
Grace's expression hardened.
“I didn't know who you were.”
“Then why remember the brooch?”
“Because you were holding it when you told me where his medication was.”
Edward reached for the back of a chair.
He remembered the ambulance.
The heat.
Grace telling him not to stand.
But Margaret?
Nothing.
“Why didn't you stay?” he asked.
Margaret lowered her voice.
“I had an urgent company matter.”
Olivia gave a disbelieving laugh.
“You left Dad on a sidewalk?”
“He was conscious when I walked away.”
Grace spoke before she could stop herself.
“He wasn't.”
Margaret turned.
“He was speaking.”
“He was confused. There's a difference.”
Edward looked at his sister.
For thirty years, Margaret had been the person he trusted with difficult decisions.
After Catherine died, she handled the employees Edward couldn't face, the paperwork he avoided, and the business problems he buried beneath work.
Now he couldn't understand why she was standing before him looking frightened.
“What company matter?” he asked.
Margaret glanced at Lena's folder.
“That.”
Everyone went still.
“The employee complaints?” Olivia asked.
Margaret nodded.
“Corporate counsel had warned us about the growing number of reports. I was meeting an outside consultant that afternoon.”
Edward stared.
“You were reviewing complaints against my daughter while I was being taken to the hospital?”
“I thought the ambulance had everything under control.”
Grace shook her head.
“Then you thought wrong.”
Margaret looked wounded.
For the first time, Olivia saw her aunt as something other than the composed woman who always knew what needed doing.
She looked tired.
And afraid.
Edward turned to Lena.
“Please take the folder to my office. Nobody is to alter or destroy anything.”
Margaret stiffened.
“Edward, those files contain private information.”
“Then privacy will be protected.”
He looked at his sister.
“But so will the employees.”
Grace quietly slipped away.
This time Olivia did not stop her.
Ethan approached his bride.
“Come upstairs with me.”
Olivia glanced at the guests.
“Our reception—”
“Is already ruined?”
She flinched.
Ethan softened.
“I wasn't going to say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
“No. I was thinking you've spent five years trying to make tonight look like your mother's wedding.”
Olivia touched the pearl pendant at her throat.
“And?”
“And your mother isn't here to tell you whether she'd approve.”
Olivia looked away.
Ethan gently took her hand.
“You married me today. That's still true.”
She finally cried.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
She covered her face as the room blurred.
Ethan stood beside her without telling her to stop.
Later, in Edward's private office above the ballroom, Olivia sat opposite her father.
Margaret stood near the window.
Lena had joined them.
Edward laid the complaint summary on his desk.
“I want an independent review.”
Margaret shook her head.
“You're reacting emotionally.”
“Yes,” Edward said. “I am.”
“That isn't how you run a company.”
“Maybe that's part of the problem.”
Margaret looked toward Olivia.
“Your daughter made mistakes. She can learn.”
“Then why did people feel they couldn't report them safely?”
Margaret said nothing.
Lena stepped forward.
“Because someone in corporate kept redirecting the complaints.”
Edward frowned.
“Redirecting them where?”
“To executive administration.”
Margaret's department.
Olivia looked at her aunt.
“You told me everything was being handled.”
“It was.”
“Then why didn't I know?”
Margaret's voice sharpened.
“Because every time anyone criticized you, you worked harder instead of listening.”
Olivia recoiled.
Margaret continued.
“Your mother used to be able to reach you. After she died, you decided that being demanding was the same as being strong.”
Edward looked down.
There was truth in that.
Painful truth.
But Lena wasn't finished.
“Some complaints were serious. Others were relatively minor. We also found something strange.”
She pulled out a photocopy.
“A former employee attached this to her complaint.”
Edward recognized the heading.
It was an old handwritten staff memo.
The paper had yellowed.
Across the top were the words:
Catherine Harrington — Employee Hospitality Fund.
Olivia stood.
“My mother had a staff fund?”
Lena nodded.
“It provided emergency assistance, paid training, and support for employees facing family hardship.”
Edward's face softened.
“She started it after our first Boston hotel opened.”
Olivia whispered:
“I never knew.”
Margaret reached for the paper.
“It's an old program. It was discontinued.”
Lena held it back.
“No.”
She pointed to a line at the bottom.
“According to the original charter, it was supposed to continue after Mrs. Harrington's death.”
Edward frowned.
“How much money was in it?”
Margaret stared at the window.
Lena answered.
“Almost four million dollars when the fund was last independently audited.”
Olivia's mouth opened.
“What happened to it?”
Margaret turned around.
May you like
And for the first time that night, she looked directly at her brother.
“Edward, before you accuse me of anything, you should know that Olivia signed the authorization that closed it.”
