The Fall of the Caldwell Dynasty and the Restored Legacy of Whitaker House
“A little to the left,” I said, stepping back.
“Right there. Secure it.”
They tightened the screws and stepped away.
I looked up at my mother’s face.
The artist had captured the slight tilt of her head and the determination in her eyes.
She looked home.
“Thank you,” I told the workers.
They nodded and carried their ladder down the stairs.
I stood alone in the lobby for a long time, listening to the ticking of the grandfather clock.
The bronze pendulum swung back and forth, marking the passage of the old era.
***
By midday, the lobby was filled with people.
Local journalists, community leaders, and former staff members crowded into the room.
I saw the director of the children’s clinic talking with Lorna near the window.
Arthur Bell was discussing the new investment strategy with a representative from the bank.
Dina was guiding guests toward the refreshment table.
I stood near the entrance, wearing a simple black suit.
Marcus tapped his glass with a pen, calling the room to order.
The chatter died down, and everyone turned to face him.