The Sins of the Mother Read Free Page A

trip with her. It was a time she cherished with them every year, as much as she did with her own children. She hoped they’d all be excited by the trip she’d planned for them this year. It sounded like it was going to be one of their best. In her mind, it was an invitation, and in theirs it was a command performance. They knew she expected them to be there, and her invitations were always hard to resist.
    The next hour flew by, as Olivia returned dozens of calls and responded to several e-mails herself. She never had time to touch her salad, before Margaret called on the intercom to tell her the reporter from The New York Times had arrived. Olivia told her to bring him into her office, and she stood up to greet him and came around the desk, and led him to the comfortable couch and chairs.
    The man who sat down with her and returned her gaze was somewhere in his mid-twenties and was wearing jeans, running shoes, and a T-shirt. His hair was long and wild, and he looked as though he hadn’t shaved in several days. It was a familiar look for someone his age. He certainly hadn’t dressed for the occasion, and Olivia didn’t mind. She was used to earnest young reporters. Most of them looked awestruck or intimidated when they met Olivia, but this one didn’t. He began firing questions at her immediately. Olivia was undismayed by his lack of preamble or manners, and answered his questions clearly and directly, with a pleasant expression, undaunted by his style and appearance.
    The interview went well for nearly an hour, despite the unbridled frankness of his questions. He asked her some hard questions, and she enjoyed them and had ready answers. And then he broadsided her by touching on the topic of their meeting that morning. He was both alert and well informed, and obviously hoped to hit her Achilles’ heel and surprise her. Nothing showed in her face, as she carefully answered him.
    “Are you concerned about possible violations of child labor laws in the factories you’ve used in Asia?”
    “We have no proof of that,” she said calmly, “although we’ve done extensive research. That’s always a subject that concerns me, in any aspect of our business.”
    “Don’t you think it’s fair to assume that in those locations, and at the prices you’re paying, there must be violations somewhere along the line?”
    “I can’t assume anything,” Olivia said quietly. “We’re continuing to explore that possibility on an ongoing basis. We have no evidence of abusive practices from any of our sources.”
    “And if you do at some point, then what will you do?”
    “Respond appropriately, and take action. We don’t support human rights violations,” she assured him. “Nor child labor law abuses. I have four children and three grandchildren. The plight of children has always been a subject of deep interest to me.”
    “Enough to be willing to raise your prices, if you have to change factories? And start buying products at higher rates in Europe?”
    “Absolutely,” she said without hesitation. “The Factory does not support any kind of violation, of children or adults.” He moved off the subject then, satisfied for the moment, but she could tell that he was leery of her, and he had been very aggressive with her. He was skeptical of what she’d told him but had no proof otherwise. There was none to have. The Factory was clean and aboveboard in its dealings, which was a source of great pride to her.
    She accorded the young reporter nearly an hour and a half, and then her assistant came in and rescued her, and reminded her of another meeting, which she actually didn’t have. But an hour and a half seemed long enough for an interview. He would have stayed all afternoon if she allowed it. And Olivia’s time was precious, she had work to do and an empire to run.
    They shook hands, and the journalist sauntered out of her office looking as though he owned the world. She sensed that it was all posturing for her benefit,