at the reference to an “old woman.” Marion Hillyard looked anything but the part. A tough middle-aged dynamo perhaps, but a withered grandmama she would never be. But his smile grew serious as he watched her face. She was growing paler by the moment, and he suddenly wondered if she were ill. But she never gave him or anyone else time to inquire. She stood up, expressed her satisfaction with the meeting, got the information she needed from Ben, and thanked everyone for coming upstairs. When she left the room the meeting was over. The brass-bordered door to her office closed softly behind Ruth a moment later, and the rest of them flowed slowly toward the elevator, commenting on progress of the job. Everyone seemed pleased, and relieved that Marion had been too. Usually someone set her off, but today she had been almost uncharacteristically mellow, and once again Ben found himself wondering if she were ill. He was among the last to leave the conference room, and Wendy had already gone downstairs when Ruth came rushing out of the inner sanctum and signaled for Michael. She looked terribly frightened.
“Mr. Hillyard! Your mother… she's…”
But it was George who reacted first, literally running to her office, with a thunderstruck Michael and Ben at his heels. And once there, it was again George who knew what to do. Where to find the pills, which he rapidly gave her with a small glass of water, supporting her, with her son's help, from her desk chair to the couch. She was a pale grayish-green, and she seemed to be having a great deal of difficulty breathing. For a terrified moment; Mike found himself wondering if she was dying, and he felt tears spring to his eyes. He rushed to the phone to call Dr. Wickfield, but she waved weakly from the couch, and then spoke in a barely audible whisper.
“No, Michael … don't call … Wick. Happens … all… the time.” Michael looked instantly at George. This was news to him, but it couldn't be to George, or he wouldn't have known where to find the pills, what to do. Jesus. How much of the world around him had he grown totally oblivious to in recent months? As he looked at his mother, pale and trembling on the couch, he began to wonder just how sick she was. He knew that she saw rather a lot of Dr. Wickfield, but he had always assumed that was to make sure she was fit, not because she had any major problems. And this certainly appeared to be major. And a glance at the little bottle of pills George had left on the desk confirmed Michael's fears. They were nitroglycerin, standard treatment for heart trouble.
“Mother—” Michael sat down in a chair next to her, and took her hand. “Does this happen often?” He was almost as pale as she, but she opened her eyes and smiled at him, then at George. George knew.
“Don't worry about it.” The voice was still soft, but stronger now. “I'm fine.”
“You're not fine. And I want to know more about this.” Michael spoke, and Ben found himself wondering if he were intruding, but he didn't want to leave, either. He was too stunned by what he had seen. The great Marion Hillyard was human after all. And she looked terribly vulnerable and frail as she lay there in the expensive black dress which only made her look paler. She was the color of very fine parchment as she talked to her son, but her eyes were more alive than they had been a moment before.
“Mother …” Michael was going to press until she told him.
“All right, darling, all right.” She took a little breath and slowly sat up on the couch, swinging her feet back to the floor and looking straight into the eyes of her only child. “It's my heart. You know I've had the problem for years.”
“But it was never serious.”
“Well, now it is.” She was matter of fact. “I may live to be a very nasty old woman, or then again I may not. Only time will tell. In the meantime, the little pills keep me going, and I manage. That's all there is to say.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“A while. Wicky started worrying about it two years ago, but it's gotten quite a lot worse this year.”
“Then I want you to retire.” He looked like a stubborn child as he sat staring worriedly at his mother.