“All true.”
He paused.
“But eventually I understood the question bothered me.”
Margaret watched.
“Because the question assumed my mother’s work here had been small and mine was large.”
The room quieted.
“It assumed leadership was more important than labor.”
“That the person giving the speech belonged more fully to Bellweather than the person washing the plates afterward.”
Adrian shook his head.
“I do not believe that anymore.”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
Adrian continued.
“My mother kept this university functioning before I ever had the privilege of leading it.”
“She did not rise from being part of Bellweather to becoming connected to someone important.”
“She was always part of Bellweather.”
That received applause.
Margaret allowed it this time.
After dinner, she asked Adrian to walk with her.
They crossed the hall.
Down the corridor.
Through an old service passage.
Eventually they reached the South Courtyard.
The fountain remained.
The brass railing remained.
The limestone steps remained.
Margaret stopped at approximately the place where Gavin had grabbed her wrist years earlier.
Adrian stood beside her.
“Why are we here?”
She looked toward the steps.
“I wanted to see if it still felt bad.”
“Does it?”
“A little.”
He waited.
Margaret smiled.
“Less than before.”
They stood quietly.
Students crossed in the distance.
A catering employee pushed a cart toward the kitchen.
A security officer held a door for her.
Nobody noticed Margaret and Adrian.
She liked that.
“Do you know what bothered me most that night?”
Adrian looked at her.
“Being grabbed?”
“No.”
“Being called a drifter?”
“Closer.”
She leaned both hands on her cane.
“It was how normal it felt.”
Adrian frowned.
Margaret continued.
“I had spent enough years being overlooked that some part of me recognized the feeling immediately.”
She looked toward him.
“When he decided I didn’t belong, I wasn’t shocked.”
“That’s what scared me later.”
Adrian’s eyes lowered.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you ever got used to that.”
Margaret touched his hand.
“You did not invent the world.”
“No.”
“But you helped run part of it.”
She smiled.
“That is why you had work to do.”
They started walking toward the ballroom.
At the doorway, Margaret stopped again.
“You know what people still get wrong?”
“What?”
“They say Gavin picked the wrong old woman.”
Adrian nodded.
“I hate that.”
“So do I.”
She looked toward the gala guests beyond the doors.
“He didn’t pick the wrong woman.”
“He picked the wrong way to look at people.”