I had barely settled into my chair when someone approached.
It was Carol.
I remembered her from school.
She had always been quieter than Brenda.
She sat down beside me without waiting for an invitation.
"Martha, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
She looked toward the table where Brenda was sitting.
"Are you involved with the hotel?"
I considered how to answer.
"I've done business with them for a long time."
Carol looked surprised.
"What kind of business?"
I rested my hands on the table.
"My company supplies their linens and laundry services."
She stared at me.
"Your company?"
I nodded.
"Caldwell Linens & Laundry."
She repeated the name quietly.
Then her eyes widened.
"Wait. Is that the company that works with all those hotels?"
"Some of them, yes."
Carol leaned back.
"I had no idea."
I smiled.
"That's because I haven't been advertising it tonight."
She laughed softly.
I appreciated that.
There was no excitement in her voice that made me feel like a different person.
She was simply surprised.
Then she asked how long I had owned the business.
I told her about Arthur.
About the laundromat.
About the nursing home contract.
I didn't tell the entire story.
There wasn't time.
But I explained that the company had grown over many years and that our son, David, now handled much of the daily operation.
Carol listened carefully.
"That's wonderful, Martha."
"Thank you."
She looked down at my hands.
"Do you still work?"
I laughed.
"More than I probably should."
She smiled.
I could tell she wanted to ask more.
But before she could, another classmate approached.
Then another.
The news had traveled quickly.
Some wanted to know about the business.
Others wanted to know why Mr. Sterling had brought me the documents personally.
I answered what I could.
I didn't exaggerate.
I didn't pretend I had done everything alone.
Arthur had been part of the company from the beginning.
David had helped carry it forward.
Our employees had made the business possible.
I knew every one of those things.
A company wasn't built by one person simply because one person happened to sign the contracts.
Brenda remained at her table.
She wasn't speaking as loudly now.
One of the women beside her leaned toward her and said something.
Brenda shook her head.
I didn't try to hear.
I had no interest in joining their conversation.
Then a man I remembered from school approached.
His name was Richard.
He had been one of the boys who used to stand with Brenda in the hallway.
He looked uncomfortable.
"Martha, I didn't know you owned that company."
I nodded.
"It's been a long time."
He rubbed his chin.
"That's quite an accomplishment."
"Thank you."
He hesitated.
Then he looked toward Brenda.
"I suppose we didn't know much about what happened to people after graduation."
I thought about that.
He was right.
Most of us had spent decades living separate lives.
Some had succeeded.
Some had struggled.
Some had lost people they loved.
Nobody's life had remained exactly as it was in 1971.
But Brenda had always seemed to believe that the labels she gave people were permanent.
I had been the girl in the old dresses.
The girl with the little laundry.
The girl who belonged somewhere in the background.
Richard sat down for a moment.
He asked about Arthur.
When I told him Arthur had passed away in 2016, his expression softened.
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you. He was a good man."
I meant that.
I still missed him.
Sometimes I missed him most during ordinary conversations.
He would have enjoyed seeing the company grow.
He would have laughed at the idea of me standing in a hotel ballroom with a coffee pot.
He would probably have asked whether I had eaten anything.
That thought made me smile.
Then I looked toward the ballroom entrance.
Mr. Sterling was speaking with the banquet captain.
The staff were still working.
The evening was continuing.
I didn't want my arrival at the hotel to become a distraction from their jobs.
I had made an arrangement to support the event.
I wanted the event to succeed.
That was still true.
A few minutes later, Brenda finally approached.
She stopped beside my chair.
Her hands were clasped in front of her.
"Martha."
I looked up.
"Brenda."
She glanced toward the table where the documents had been signed.
"I didn't realize you were connected to this hotel."
"I have business with them."
She seemed to struggle with what to say next.
"Why didn't you mention that?"
I thought about the question.
Because I hadn't wanted to.
Because I wanted to attend the reunion without introducing myself through money or status.
Because I wanted to see whether I could simply be there.
But I didn't explain all of that.
"I didn't think it was necessary."
She looked at me for another moment.
Then she gave a small nod.
"Well. That's interesting."
I didn't answer.
She returned to her table.
I watched her go.
There was a time when I would have spent the rest of the evening wondering whether I had said the right thing.
I would have replayed every expression.
Every pause.
Every word.
Not that night.
I picked up my water glass.
And took a drink.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: When My Old Classmates Began Asking About My Life, I Realized How Little They Had Ever Known About Me
The Blue-Checked Dress That Taught Me How Much One Cruel Laugh Could Cost
Part 6 of 20
