Margaret almost smiled.
Then she turned toward Sam.
“Walk with me.”
Sam looked terrified.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
They went into a small conference room behind the lobby.
Daniel joined them.
Margaret closed the door.
Sam remained standing.
“Sit.”
He sat.
Barely.
Margaret sat opposite him.
“Tell me about your mother.”
Sam blinked.
“My mother?”
“You mentioned she is ill.”
He looked toward Daniel, uncertain whether this was part of some strange corporate interview.
Margaret noticed.
“You're not in trouble.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me.”
Sam rubbed both palms against his trousers.
“Her name is Clara.”
“How old?”
“Fifty-three.”
“What does she need?”
He hesitated.
“Treatment she's been delaying.”
“Why?”
Sam laughed without humor.
“Money.”
Daniel said nothing.
Sam continued.
“My father died when I was sixteen. Mom worked a grocery store for years. Then housekeeping. Then home care. Whatever paid.”
Margaret listened.
“When she got sick, she tried to keep working.”
“What happened?”