Maeve nodded.
“She died seven years ago.”
That hurt more than I expected.
“Did she ever mention Lorna?”
Maeve laughed once.
Bitterly.
“Every year.”
I could barely speak.
“What did she say?”
Maeve looked toward her register.
Then at Coryn.
“I need a break.”
He nodded immediately.
Of course he did.
Funny how quickly policies soften when the homeless man becomes the owner.
I noticed that too.
Maeve led us to the small employee room.
Ellie sat beside her.
I remained across the table.
The soup rested unopened between us.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then Maeve said:
“My mother told me you hated her.”
I closed my eyes.
“No.”
“She said Lorna chose you over her.”
“That was not what happened.”
“Then tell me.”
So I did.
Forty-two years earlier, Maelis had been twenty-six.
Lorna was forty-one.
I was forty-two.
Mercer & Field had only sixteen stores then.
Maelis worked in our accounting department.
Bright.
Impulsive.
Terrible at paperwork despite being excellent with numbers.
She discovered that one of our regional purchasing managers had been taking kickbacks from suppliers.
She brought the evidence to Lorna.
