Ronnie gave a thoughtful nod. “That way the machine can send it right back to you.”
“We make headgear for soccer goalies.” Tricia’s voice fell into the room, freezing all the occupants in midmove.
Straightening slowly, her attention focused
completely on her employer, Susan slipped back into her shoes. “They weren’t on the production line that day,” she said softly.
Still staring at the boy, Tricia flinched. And Susan knew the older woman had understood.
“Come on, Ronnie.” With a quick glance from Tricia to Susan, Mrs. McArthur moved to her son’s chair, wheeling him toward the door. Susan let them go.
Holding herself regally until they were gone, Tricia faltered the second the door closed behind them. She tried to speak, her eyes bright with anger. But she closed her mouth without saying a word.
She tried a second time, Susan standing mute in front of the soccer game where Ronnie had left her.
And then, slumping back in her chair, Tricia buried her face in her hands.
The sounds of Tricia Halliday’s weeping seemed amplified in the silent room, touching Susan in spite of her disdain. She approached the older woman, placing a gentle hand on Tricia’s back.
“Tricia?” she asked softly. She wished she felt closer to the woman, wished Ed were there, guiding her.
“I never wanted to do this,” the woman cried, her words muffled by her hands.
“Do what?”
Tricia looked up at Susan, her usually immaculate makeup streaked with tears. “Run this company,” she said. “I’m a mother, not a businesswoman.”
Leaning on the desk beside Tricia, Susan said, “Overall, you’ve done an impressive job, Tricia. You are a businesswoman.”
“But I don’t want to be.” The words were whispered, full of shame, of regret. “I enjoy my volunteer work, I like organizing benefits, but what’s most important to me, what makes me the happiest, is taking care of my family.”
“And Halliday’s is getting in the way of that?” Susan asked. She supposed she could see it, considering that Tricia had three teenagers at home.
Tricia shook her head. “No, it’s because of them that I’m even here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Would you mind terribly if I asked you to sit down?” Tricia’s question held not even a hint of the hard woman who’d been her boss these past months. “You’re a bit intimidating as it is,” she continued, “and it makes me uncomfortable to have you standing over me.”
Rounding the desk, Susan sat.
Tricia pulled out a tissue and a compact, drying her tears, repairing some of the damage to her face.
“My oldest son has his heart set on running Halliday Headgear some day.” Tricia eventually spoke again, having put her makeup away. She’d regained her composure, but not her coolness. “He’s got to finish his last year of high school and then get through college before he can do that.”
Susan turned cold. “Are there...money problems?” she asked. She’d had absolutely no indication that Halliday’s was in trouble.
“No.” Tricia shook her head firmly. “Nothing like that.” She gave Susan a sharp look, as if determining how much of her personal business to impart. “Ed has a brother, an older brother, who’s never amounted to much. Gambles away every dime he’s ever had.” She fiddled with the edge of a paper on her desk as she spoke. “But back when they were younger, right at the time Ed was trying to come up with the money to finance this factory, his brother hit a lucky streak playing the stocks. He offered to give Ed the money he needed.”
“But this is a privately held company,” Susan said, “and you and Ed are the only owners.”
“As long as Ed or I—or our kids—are running the company, that’s true,” Tricia glanced up and then back at the paper. She’d curled the lower right corner and was going to work on the left. “We agreed to pay Ed’s brother ten percent of the profits—and agreed that if there ever came a time when one of us was unable to run the company, he’d take over.”
Susan was beginning to understand. “Since that time, the brother’s proven that, given the chance, he’d probably run Halliday’s out of business,” she summed up.
Pushing the paper aside, Tricia looked up. Nodding.
“So you have to operate the company until your son is old enough to take over or it won’t be here for him when he’s ready.”