Chapter 17 - Autumn on Newbury StreetBy mid-October, the trees lining Newbury Street had turned a brilliant shade of amber and crimson, casting warm, dappled light across the historic brick brownstones.
The restaurant where this entire chapter had begun—the quiet corner booth on the raised platform—was once again my favorite Thursday evening retreat.
Margaret Voss sat across from me, reviewing the quarterly earnings report over a plate of roasted artichokes and lemon chicken.
“The European expansion division is projecting a twenty-two percent increase in efficiency,” Margaret noted, tapping her pen against the margin of the financial statement. “And the federal prosecutors inform me that Ethan’s legal team is attempting a plea bargain for an eight-year sentence without parole.”
I took a slow sip of sparkling water, watching the gentle play of light on the glass.
“Let the legal system take its course,” I murmured softly. “We have a company to grow, Margaret.”
May you like
Margaret looked up over her tortoiseshell frames, a warm, knowing smile touching her lips. “You know, Evelyn, for thirty years people thought you were the quiet background fixture of this empire.”
“Let them think what they liked,” I replied, tilting my head slightly. “A foundation doesn't need to shout to keep the house standing.”
