The Sins of the Mother Read Free

worked as hard as she did, and had as little idle time. They enjoyed talking business together and catching up on each other’s news. Peter was sixty-three years old, married, with a grown son and daughter, and had had a rewarding career. They had fought many battles for The Factory side by side, and won.
    “I can’t,” she said regretfully. “I have an interview with The New York Times at one-thirty, and a mountain on my desk to deal with before that.” She dreaded the day he would retire. She relied heavily on his advice and clear-headed analysis of situations, and valued his friendship. She trusted him more than anyone else. And fortunately, he was vital and in good health and had no plans to retire for now.
    “I would tell you that you work too hard, but I’d be wasting my time,” he said with a rueful smile, and she laughed as the elevator stopped on her floor.
    “Tell that to yourself,” she said with a wave, as she got out, and the elevator doors stood open for a minute.
    “When are you leaving on vacation?” he called after her, and she turned back as she answered.
    “Not for another six weeks, in July.” He knew about the birthday trip she took with her children every year. Each time she chose a different spectacular venue to entice them and entertain them. It was a tradition she had started after her husband died, and she knew Joe would have approved. It was something she did to try and make up to them for the father they had lost, and the time she hadn’t spent with them when they were young. She knew she couldn’t make up for lost time, but the trips she arranged for them were wonderful for all of them, and she put a lot of thought and effort into it every year. She considered it a sacred time.
    She waved to him and hurried back to her office just as the elevator doors closed. It was nearly twelve-thirty, and she had an hour before the reporter from The New York Times arrived. She had already asked her assistant to provide a salad for her at her desk. She didn’t want to waste any time. She often did that or skipped lunch, which gave her the still-lithe, girlish figure other women envied and admired. It contributed to her looking younger than her age, along with her youthful, surprisingly unlined face. She never thought about her looks.
    Peter had reminded her of something with his question about her trip, and she stopped to speak to her assistant, Margaret, on her way back to her office.
    “Did the e-mails go out this morning about the trip?”
    “I sent them at ten o’clock this morning. And your lunch is waiting on your desk, with your messages and your call list.” She was planning to have her own lunch at her desk as well. She knew how busy Olivia was on the days that they held board meetings. Olivia would spend the rest of the day trying to catch up, and probably work late that night. Margaret was prepared to do the same. She never begrudged Olivia the time, and arranged her personal life accordingly. Her dedication to Olivia came first. Olivia inspired those who worked for her to work as hard as she did herself. They found her energy exciting.
    Olivia thanked her and walked into her large, elegantly appointed office. Everything in the room was light, airy, and beige. There were contemporary paintings on the walls, some of them by her son, and a handmade beige silk rug she’d had made in Italy. It was a pleasant place to work, and there were a couch and several chairs in one corner. It was where she would conduct the interview in an hour. It was for the business section of The New York Times . She was being interviewed by a young reporter she hadn’t met before. Margaret had already given her a sheet with his credentials and his background. He sounded relatively harmless to Olivia, although a little green. But she had profound respect for youth, and always valued a fresh perspective and new ideas.
    She loved talking to her grandchildren for that reason, and having them on the summer