Chapter One

Bridget sat on the sofa in her mother's office staring at the picture in her hands. 

It was a gold frame that had been positioned on the table for the past two years.

Her mother stood poised as usual, standing in front of an auditorium and holding a plaque with both hands. 

Bridget could remember clearly the day the event had taken place because she had been present.

It was the award ceremony held by the women's rights advocates where her mother had been one of the top contributors.

She sighed as she remembered being so proud of her mother and her impact on the lives of women through the organization. And she had personally requested the picture frame from one of the photographers that covered the event, as a gift to her mother.

She lifted her eyes from the picture and gazed toward the window. The gold blinds had been pulled slightly, revealing a view of the road below.

The restaurant was situated in a busy environment right in the middle of town. Bridget could see a line of vehicles stuck in the usual traffic jam.

She recalled her mother saying that the location of the family restaurant was good for business, contributing to the massive sales the restaurant had recorded in previous years.

And her mother had single-handedly taken the business to the pinnacle of success, a sharp contrast to her childhood days when her father had been in charge. 

Not that her father wasn't competent, of course, he did his best. But after he lost his life to a stray bullet one night, Bridget's mother took over and seemed to have gained new knowledge about how to run a family restaurant.

She had even renovated the building, converting it to a two-story edifice with an extra hall which she rented out for events.

How her mother had achieved all that was still more than Bridget could comprehend, but her mother had always been the strongest woman she knew.

She glanced back at the picture in her hands and a tear spilled over from her right eye, running a straight line down her cheek. It landed on the picture.

Her body shook with the weight of the overwhelming loss and she made no move to wipe the tear.

It's been two weeks since the burial and she still could not shake the feeling of seeing her mother covered in that silver-painted wooden box.

The doctor said she had died of a heart attack, but how was that even possible? Her mother had been so strong. The strongest woman she has ever seen.

Was she really gone?

Bridget still could not believe it.

She heard a soft knock on the door and before she could reply, Anita opened the door and walked in, her high-heeled shoes making their typical rhythm on the floor.

Anita was her mother's assistant and has been overseeing the daily activities in the restaurant since the burial.

She approached Bridget, her dark oval face mirroring the grief on Bridget's face. She leaned on the desk and placed her fingers lightly on Bridget's cheek, wiping the tears away.

"You know your mother will not be pleased to see you like this, Bridget. More than anything, she wanted you to be happy."

"Then she should not have died," Bridget retorted. "She left me, Anita. She left me all alone." Unable to help it, she burst into tears.

"Oh, Bridget," Anita placed her arm around her shoulder and enfolded her in a hug. "I'm so sorry."

They remained that way for a few minutes and when Anita saw that Bridget was calm, she drew back.

"Bridget," she said tenderly, "I came to escort you to the meeting room."

Bridget nodded. She had received an email that morning from her mother's trusted attorney, Mr. Fred, requesting a meeting with the senior staff of Fanny's restaurant. Mother had made some arrangements as regards the future of the company and it was time they knew what they were.

She kept the picture back on the desk, stood up slowly, and began the walk to the meeting room alongside Anita.

                                                                          * * *

They were all seated at a rectangular table. Mr. Fred sat at one end of the table with his arms resting on some files on the desk, while the others flanked the sides.

Anita led Bridget to the other end and after she sat, she sat close to her, watching over her like a mother hen.

"I'm glad you are here now, Bridget," Mr. Fred said. "Once again, I'm sorry about your loss."

Bridget remained silent, willing him to continue.

"Well, I will go straight to the point," he said, adjusting his bulky frame on the chair. "Mrs. Joy Patrick, as we all know, had been the managing director of this company for the past ten years since her husband died. But unfortunately, she passed away six weeks ago."

He paused to let that sink in. 

Bridget glanced around briefly and saw Mrs. Eunice wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, while Mr. Clinton had his head bowed. Johnny, the head of security, simply stared with his hand under his chin.

"Mrs. Patrick was not taken unawares though, as she saw this coming and prepared for it. She…"

"What are you talking about?" Bridget interrupted. "My mother saw her death coming? How can you say that?"

She felt Anita's palm on her arm and held herself from speaking further.

"I understand this is hard for you, Bridget. I'm sure your mother kept you in the dark about the situation of her health for good reasons. But eight months ago, she called me and requested a meeting, during which she confessed that her heart was gradually declining and she did not have much time to live."

Bridget felt the thumping in her heart and stared at him wide-eyed.

Her mother knew she was going to die eight months ago and never told her about it. She found it difficult to believe that her mother would keep such a thing from her. She placed her elbows on the table and covered her face briefly with her palms.