I’d called emergency services, loosened her scarf, and followed the dispatcher’s instructions.
At one point, she’d gripped my wrist.
“Don’t let me close my eyes.”
So I kept talking.
I told her stories about Sophie and Lucy, discussed baseball even though I barely followed it, and complained about parking near my office.
Anything that encouraged her to respond.
Finally, she asked what had happened after the ambulance left.
I glanced toward Gavin.
He seemed desperate for me to say nothing.
“Nothing.”
The woman studied me.
“Christopher.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Gavin quickly approached.
“Mrs. Halston, I think perhaps this is better discussed privately.”
Mrs. Halston.
I looked at the woman again.
Then at the logo on the leather folder.
HALSTON CAPITAL.
The realization struck.
“You’re Eleanor Halston?”
She smiled.
“You know the name.”
Of course I did.
Eleanor Halston had established Halston Industrial with her husband nearly forty years earlier.
