Rachel filmed from the walkway.
Samantha stood near the kitchen holding flowers.
I stopped just inside.
“Welcome home, Margaret Elise.”
The house felt different.
Not because Charles was gone.
Because she was there.
I showed her the nursery Mom had helped paint.
Pale green walls.
A wooden moon above the crib.
A rocking chair Mom found at an estate sale and insisted was “too good
to let strangers ruin.”
I sat in that chair with Maggie against my chest.
For the first time since Mom died, grief and joy occupied the same room
without fighting.
I missed my mother.
I loved my daughter.
Neither feeling canceled the other.
PART 17 — BALDWIN LOGISTICS
Months later I attended my first Baldwin Logistics board meeting as the
beneficiary representative permitted under the trust structure.
I expected people to see me as Margaret Baldwin’s grieving daughter.
Some did.
So I prepared.
I read reports.
I asked questions.
I hired independent advisers.
Charles had often told me business bored me.
What he meant was that he preferred me uninformed.
I did not become my mother overnight.
I did not need to.
The company appointed experienced leadership while governance issues
were resolved.
I learned enough to protect my interests without pretending expertise I
