She narrowed her eyes.
“Do not become inspirational.”
“Terrifying thought.”
She wanted accounting certification.
Not because I suggested it.
Because she had already researched evening programs.
I offered to pay.
She refused.
Of course.
Then I said:
“What if it comes from Lorna’s foundation?”
Maeve looked up.
Lorna and I had established a small educational foundation decades earlier.
After her death, I kept funding it.
Mostly scholarships for retail employees’ children.
I could expand its mandate without controlling Maeve personally.
“That’s different,” she said.
“Why?”
“It isn’t you buying my decisions.”
That sentence reminded me of conversations I had never been brave enough to have when I was younger.
We structured a scholarship.
Not for Maeve alone.
For all Mercer & Field employees seeking mid-career certification or degree completion.
Maeve applied through the same process.
She was accepted.
No special approval from me.
That mattered.
Ellie visited headquarters twice.
The first time she was unimpressed.
“This is just offices.”
“What did you expect?”
“A giant vault.”
“We have several.”
