Chapter 8 - MRS. WHITMORE’S REVENGE
Months later, Evelyn returned to Oak Haven.
She wore a dark green dress made by a local widow she'd hired instead of the cruel seamstress.
People stared.
They remembered the starving woman in torn clothes.
Evelyn remembered them too.
She entered the hotel.
The same manager stood behind the desk.
His face changed.
“Mrs. Whitmore.”
“Mr. Gable.”
He smiled nervously.
“What brings you here?”
“A purchase.”
His relief was immediate.
“Of course. A room? A banquet?”
“The hotel.”
Silence.
Evelyn placed documents on the desk.
Josiah had offered to buy it for her.
She refused.
Instead, Evelyn used money legally settled on her through their marriage contract and profits from a bakery she'd started at the Whitmore estate.
The owner had agreed to sell.
Gable stared.
“You own this?”
“I do.”
His face went white.
Evelyn remembered being hungry.
Remembered him laughing.
She could fire him.
Part of her wanted to.
Instead:
“You can keep your job.”
He blinked.
“But there are new rules.”
“What rules?”
“No hungry person asking honestly for work will be mocked in this building.”
He swallowed.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“No employee will be judged incapable because of her size.”
“Yes.”
“And once a week, leftover food goes to anyone who needs it.”
He stared.
“That's expensive.”
Evelyn smiled.
“So is cruelty.”
She turned the hotel into something new.
A respectable business.
And a place where women who had nowhere else to go could work until they found their feet.
Josiah watched her opening day.
“You could have fired him.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because I wanted him to learn something.”
“Think he did?”
“No idea.”
She smiled.
“But I did.”
“What?”
“That becoming powerful doesn't require becoming the people who hurt you.”
Josiah kissed her forehead.
“That sounds suspiciously wise.”
“Marriage to you provides endless opportunities for wisdom.”
He laughed.
Then Clara and Rose ran through the lobby screaming.
Actually screaming.
May you like
Evelyn never grew tired of that sound.
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