Chapter 2 - The Daughter Who Came Back Angry
Sophia Sinclair arrived in Boston carrying a black suitcase, an expensive coat, and nineteen years of anger.
She did not hug her mother.
Richard knew that immediately because he happened to be polishing the floor outside Simone’s private recovery suite when the elevator opened.
A young woman stepped out.
Blonde like Simone, but darker at the roots. Tall. Sharp blue eyes. Black boots wet with melted snow.
A hospital administrator hurried toward her.
“Ms. Sinclair—”
“Where is my mother?”
“Room 610.”
Sophia kept walking.
Then she noticed Richard.
Her gaze moved from his janitorial cart to his uniform.
And stopped.
“You’re him.”
Richard straightened.
“Depends who him is.”
“The janitor.”
That word came out strangely.
Not cruelly.
Suspiciously.
Richard nodded.
“Richard Carter.”
Sophia stared at him another second before entering Simone’s room.
Richard returned to the floor.
He had almost reached the elevators when shouting began.
“You had seven weeks!”
Sophia’s voice carried through the partially closed door.
“Seven weeks, Mom.”
“Sophia—”
“Don’t.”
Richard stopped.
He knew he should keep moving.
Then he heard Simone.
“I couldn’t call you.”
“You could have called me before the accident!”
Silence.
Richard quietly pushed his cart away.
Whatever existed between mother and daughter belonged to them.
Twenty minutes later, Sophia found him in the service corridor.
“Did she pay you?”
Richard looked up from replacing a trash liner.
“What?”
“My mother. Did she pay you to sit with her?”
“No.”
“She says she offered you five hundred thousand dollars.”
“She did.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
Sophia laughed once.
It contained no humor.
“Nobody says no to half a million dollars.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn't earn it.”
Sophia folded her arms.
“My mother thinks money fixes everything.”
“That sounds like something you should tell your mother.”
“I have.”
Richard tied the bag.
“For how many years?”
Her expression shifted.
There it was.
The first crack.
“Enough.”
Richard nodded.
“Then maybe she needs to hear it again.”
Sophia stared at him.
“You talk like you know her.”
“I don't.”
“You spent twenty-eight nights with her.”
“She was unconscious.”
“She heard you.”
Richard paused.
“Apparently.”
Sophia stepped closer.
“So you told a billionaire all your problems while she couldn't interrupt?”
Richard smiled despite himself.
“Basically.”
For the first time, Sophia nearly smiled too.
Then her defenses returned.
“My mother destroys people, Mr. Carter.”
Richard's expression became serious.
“I wouldn't know.”
“You will.”
She walked away.
That evening, Richard brought Olivia and Oliver to visit his grandmother.
They were passing Simone’s room when Olivia stopped.
“Dad.”
“No.”
“But Sleeping Lady is awake.”
“Olivia.”
Too late.
Olivia pushed open the door.
Simone was sitting upright with a physical therapist.
Sophia stood near the window.
Olivia froze.
Simone froze too.
Then Olivia whispered, “Whoa.”
Richard appeared behind her.
“I am so sorry.”
Simone smiled.
“You must be Olivia.”
Olivia's eyes widened.
“You know me?”
“I know you hate peas, you once put toothpaste in your brother’s shoe, and you believe pancakes taste better when they look like dinosaurs.”
Olivia slowly turned toward her father.
“You told her everything?”
Richard rubbed his forehead.
“I was running out of conversation.”
Oliver peeked around his leg.
Simone looked at him.
“And you must be Oliver.”
Oliver hid.
Simone's smile softened.
Sophia watched from the window.
Something about her expression changed as Olivia approached the drawing still taped beside Simone’s bed.
“You kept it.”
“Of course.”
Olivia looked delighted.
“I can make you another one.”
“I'd like that.”
“What do rich people like?”
Richard closed his eyes.
“Olivia.”
Simone laughed.
A real laugh.
The first since waking.
Even Sophia looked startled.
“Same things everybody likes,” Simone said.
Olivia considered that.
“Dogs?”
“Absolutely.”
“Pizza?”
“Yes.”
“Being hugged?”
Simone stopped.
Her eyes flicked toward Sophia.
Sophia immediately looked away.
“Yeah,” Simone whispered. “That too.”
Richard saw it.
So did Olivia.
Children noticed the things adults worked hardest to hide.
Olivia walked toward Sophia.
“Are you her daughter?”
Sophia nodded.
“Yep.”
“Do you hug her?”
The room became painfully quiet.
“Olivia,” Richard said.
“What? She said she likes hugs.”
Sophia stared at the little girl.
Then at her mother.
For one second, Richard thought something impossible might happen.
But Sophia picked up her coat.
“I need coffee.”
She left.
Simone's smile disappeared.
Later, Richard found Sophia alone beside the vending machines.
“You didn't have to leave.”
“Yes, I did.”
“She misses you.”
Sophia turned.
“You don't get to tell me that.”
“You're right.”
The quick agreement disarmed her.
Richard leaned against the opposite wall.
“My kids' mother left three years ago.”
Sophia said nothing.
“She calls sometimes. Birthdays. Christmas. Sometimes she promises she'll come.”
“And?”
“Sometimes she doesn't.”
Sophia looked down.
“So when Olivia asks if her mother loves her, I have to answer without lying and without making an eight-year-old think she caused an adult's choices.”
Sophia swallowed.
Richard continued quietly.
“Being angry at someone you love is complicated.”
“You think I should forgive her.”
“No.”
Sophia looked up.
“I think forgiveness that somebody pressures you into isn't forgiveness.”
That surprised her.
“So what do you think I should do?”
“Figure out what you actually want.”
Sophia looked through the glass toward Simone's room.
“I wanted her to choose me once.”
Richard had no answer for that.
The following morning, Simone asked Richard to come upstairs before his shift.
A man in a tailored navy suit stood beside her bed.
“This is Malcolm Pierce,” Simone said. “Chairman of Sinclair Medical Group.”
Malcolm extended his hand.
Richard shook it.
“Mr. Carter. We've heard quite a lot about you.”
Richard didn't like the emphasis.
Malcolm placed a folder on the table.
“Simone wants to create a new patient-support position for you.”
Richard glanced at Simone.
“I already have a job.”
“At seventeen dollars and forty cents an hour,” Malcolm said.
Richard's eyes narrowed.
Malcolm continued.
“This would pay one hundred and twenty thousand annually.”
Richard stared at him.
“Doing what?”
Simone answered.
“Making sure nobody in this hospital spends seven weeks alone.”
That silenced him.
It was the first offer that sounded like something other than charity.
Richard looked at Simone.
“Why me?”
“Because everybody with an MBA told me how to increase patient satisfaction scores.”
Her eyes softened.
“You showed me what the words actually mean.”
Richard slowly sat down.
Before he could answer, the door opened.
Sophia stood there.
Her face had gone pale.
She was holding a tablet.
“Mom.”
Something in her voice changed the room.
“What?”
Sophia turned the screen around.
A news headline filled it.
SINCLAIR CEO AWAKENS — MYSTERY JANITOR POSITIONED FOR MASSIVE PAYDAY.
Beneath it was a photograph.
Richard entering Simone’s room.
And another.
Richard's children.
Someone had photographed Olivia outside her elementary school.
Richard's face went cold.
“Where did they get that?”
Sophia looked at Malcolm.
“I think somebody inside this hospital is leaking everything.”
Malcolm stiffened.
Simone stared at the screen.
Then Sophia swiped to the final image.
It was a confidential photograph taken the night Simone was admitted.
Richard looked at Simone.
Her expression had changed completely.
Fear.
Not embarrassment.
Not anger.
Fear.
Richard lowered his voice.
“What aren't you telling us?”
Simone looked toward the door.
May you like
Then whispered four words.
“My accident wasn't accidental.”
