Chapter 241

The moment we walked into the community center, we were overwhelmed. The place was packed with people. Some I recognized from the gossip columns, high society members. Others I’d seen at work, current employees, or in pictures at work as previous employees. Many I didn’t know at all.

Logan seemed to recognize more than me. His hand closed tighter around mine as we walked farther into the room to meet Mr. Hudgens standing in the center. He was holding a sign in sheet that he handed to Logan as we approached. Logan glanced down at it.

“I thought I recognized one of my old nannies…” he said

“Yes,” Mr. Hudgens said. “Many of Senior’s servants past and present also wish to do what they can to stop what he’s doing. You will also notice a few distant relatives on the list. I’ll introduce you if you’d like. I’m not sure you’ve ever met them.”

Logan clenched his jaw. “That would be for the best.”

Dylan peeked over Logan’s shoulder and whistled. “That’s a hell of a list, though looking around this room, I guess I’m not surprised. How should we do this, boss? Divide and conquer?”

“That would be the easiest way,” Mabel said. “If you agree, Logan? Hazel? Mr. Hudgens.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. I nodded.

“I suspected something like this would be necessary,” Mr. Hudgens said. “There is a copier in the office there, if you want to make copies.”

“Allow me,” I said. Releasing Logan’s hand, I held mine out for the paperwork. “I’m good with copiers.”

Logan gave me a strange look. “You aren’t my assistant anymore…”

Rolling my eyes, I snatched the papers from his hand. “I’m still good at it. Let the master work.”

He smirked at my antics. “Very well.”

Mr. Hudgens showed me the way to the office. I returned a few minutes later with enough copies for Logan, Dylan, Mabel, Mr. Hudgens, and myself. After passing them out, we each picked a direction. Mr. Hudgens went with Logan to introduce him to his family. The rest of us went on our own.

I headed to those wearing less expensive clothes first, thinking they might feel more comfortable sharing with someone who has a similar background. My turn to high society is so recent, I still don’t feel like I belong there. Honestly, I’m not sure I ever will.

The former and current servants seem grateful for my decision. They relax some as we all introduce ourselves. One by one, they come forward to tell me their stories. With permission, I record everything on my phone so that we can listen to the playback later.

More than one servant was shortchanged on every single paycheck since they started. One woman, a cook, was owed $28,000 dollars. When she tried to seek arbitration to get some of that money back legally, she was harassed by Mr. Hatfield’s Seniors so much that she eventually backed down, frightened.

Mr. Smith was apparently the worst of the lot.

“He was so cold,” the cook said. “He has icicles on his soul.”

Another, Logan’s former nanny, explained that she was constantly berated by Senior for Logan not immediately accepting his new life. Every time Logan talked back to his grandfather, the nanny took the blame. Verbal harassment was so rampant, she worried about what was being done to Logan.

“The day I quit, I went to the child protection agency,” she said. She was an older woman, with deep-set frown lines. They seemed even more prominently now, as she remembered a sad past. “The minute they heard Mr. Hatfield’s name, they stopped listening. They told me it would be better for me to forget the whole thing, and they kicked me out. They even threatened to call the police on me when I refused.”

She worried her hands together. “I worried about that child every day. I feel like I failed him.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, but I could tell my assurances weren’t enough.

During a break, I sneaked over to where Logan was pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. The moment I mentioned the nanny, I had his full attention.

I told him the full story, ending with, “She feels responsible…”

“She absolutely isn’t,” he said. “Where is she?”

I pointed her out. She was sitting now.

“Excuse me a moment,” Logan said. He set down his coffee and immediately started walking to her. When she saw him coming she pushed herself up to her feet. “You don’t have to…” he said, the last I heard before his voice was swallowed by the other sounds in the crowded room.

Looking away, I finished pouring Logan’s coffee for him, and poured a different cup for myself. When I looked again, the pair was embracing, with the nanny openly sobbing against Logan’s chest, while Logan patted her back.

Listening, I heard him say, “You were the only person who made that place bearable.”

We worked late into the evening, taking everyone’s statements and contact information. By the end, when everyone but us and Mr. Hudgens had gone, we all collapsed onto the couches and chairs in the corner of the room.

I couldn’t speak for the others, but I wasn’t just physically exhausted. I was emotionally exhausted. Hearing so many stories of mistreatment wore down on my soul.

Mr. Hatfield Senior’s behavior may have escalated in the past few years, but he has been a right asshole for decades.

Yet, just as tired as I was by all of this, I was also uplifted. So many people were ready to come forward, finally ready to speak their truths.

It felt good to have so many different people rallied behind Logan and I.

“We should be celebrating,” Dylan said.

Logan hummed in agreement.

“I was hoping you might say that,” Mr. Hudgens said. Standing, he hurried into a backroom that, from this angle, looked like it contained kitchen cabinets and a counter. A moment later, he returned with a chilled bottle of champagne and a sleeve of paper cups. “You don’t mind?”

Laughing, Logan leaned forward. “It’s perfect.”

Dylan rose to his feet and joining Mr. Hudgens, together they popped open the bottle. The filled paper cups were spread to each of us.

Mabel held her glass up first. “Here’s to hard work!”

“To bringing down that old bastard,” Dylan chimed in.

“To correcting the mistakes of the past,” Mr. Hudgens added.

“To bringing people together,” I said, thinking of Logan and his nanny, as well as the group of us, who might not have gotten closer as we have without this terrible man to rally against. At least, Mabel and Mr. Hudgens. Dylan and Logan were always going to be my friends.

Logan shifted on the couch to look more fully at me. “To true love,” he said.

The others smiled. “To true love,” they repeated and everyone drank. I sipped my own cup, my eyes locked with Logan as he drank from his own cup.

“Hazel,” he said, when we all lowered our cups again. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. I wanted to wait for the perfect time, but I don’t know when that will be. I’m already tired of waiting.”

“What is it?” I asked him.

He set his cup aside, then took one of my hands in his. Lacing our fingers together, he lightly played with the ring on my finger.

“When this is all resolved, and we can finally return to our lives…” He inhaled slowly, almost like he was stalling, nervous. “Will you marry me? Again?”