But she still worked with the same dedication she had shown when Claire was a child.
She had refused to retire.
The hotel had offered her a pension, but Margaret preferred to remain active.
She loved the people she worked with.
She loved the quiet rhythm of preparing rooms.
And she loved the building because it reminded her of the years when she and her daughter had been together.
A young supervisor approached.
"Mrs. Bennett?"
"Yes, dear?"
"The general manager would like to see you in the lobby."
Margaret frowned.
"Did something happen?"
"He didn't say. He just asked that you come immediately."
Margaret removed her cleaning gloves.
"All right."
She walked through the corridor, passing familiar paintings and polished wooden doors.
As she approached the grand lobby, she saw Jonathan standing near the reception desk.
He turned toward her.
"Margaret."
"Mr. Pierce. Is everything all right?"
Jonathan did not answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward the seating area.
"There's someone here who wants to see you."
Margaret followed his gaze.
At first, she saw only a woman sitting beside a black suitcase.
The woman wore a gray coat.
Her dark hair fell over her shoulders.
She was holding a cane.
Margaret took another step.
Then she stopped.
Her face changed.
The woman slowly stood.
"Mom?"
The word was barely audible.
Margaret's hands rose toward her mouth.
For several seconds, she could not move.
Then she whispered:
"Claire?"
Claire began crying.
"Hi, Mom."
Margaret rushed toward her.
She did not care about the guests watching.
She did not care about the marble floor, the reception desk, or the people standing nearby.
She opened her arms and embraced her daughter.
"Oh, my baby."
Claire held her tightly.
"Mom, I'm sorry."
Margaret pressed her face against Claire's shoulder.
"You're here."
"I'm sorry I stayed away."
"You're here. That's all that matters."
Margaret pulled back to look at her daughter's face.
Then she noticed the bruise.
Her expression changed immediately.
"What happened to you?"
Claire tried to smile.
"It's a long story."
Margaret touched the side of her face with trembling fingers.
"Who hurt you?"
"Mom, I'm okay."
"Don't tell me you're okay when I can see that you're hurting."
Claire looked down.
Margaret's eyes moved toward the cane and the prosthetic leg.
For a moment, her face filled with pain.
Then she looked back into her daughter's eyes.
"Does it hurt?"
"Sometimes."
"Are you receiving treatment?"
"Yes."
"Are you taking care of yourself?"
Claire nodded.
Margaret hugged her again.
"You should have come home."
"I know."
"You should never have believed that you had to face everything alone."
Claire began sobbing.
"I was ashamed."
Margaret held her more tightly.
"Of what?"
"Everything. Daniel. The accident. My leg. I didn't want you to see me like this."
Margaret gently moved her daughter's hair away from her face.
"Listen to me. There is nothing about you that could ever make me ashamed."
Claire closed her eyes.
Margaret continued.
"You are my daughter. You survived something terrible. You saved a little girl's life. You learned to walk again. You are standing here today. What is there to be ashamed of?"
Claire could not answer.
She simply held her mother.
Across the lobby, Olivia wiped away a tear.