Part 2: Not softly. Not mockingly. She laughed deeply, her voice filling the marble hall.
“Alzheimer’s?” she said quietly. “That’s interesting—because I remember very clearly the day I worked fourteen hours cleaning your grandfather’s office in 1955.” The bank fell silent. Charles froze. His family had owned the bank since 1932. Very few people knew personal stories about his grandfather.
“Excuse me?” he said, suddenly uncertain.
“You were fifteen,” Margaret continued. “I worked after school so my mother and I could eat. Your grandfather liked to leave cigarettes burning on the marble floors, just to see if I would complain.” She looked directly at Charles. “I never did. We needed the money.” Janet swallowed hard. She had heard rumors about the Hayes family—but never like this. Margaret’s voice remained calm. “I remember when your grandfather told me that people like me should be grateful to serve people like him. He said that was our natural place.”
She smiled sadly. “Funny how family habits are passed down, isn’t it, young Hayes?” Charles’s face flushed. Sweat beaded along his hairline.
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