He arrived without flowers, apology gifts, or prepared documents. Eleanor appreciated that immediately. They sat at opposite ends of the leather sofa. For a while neither spoke.
Harrison looked thinner than he had in summer. His hair needed cutting. He looked thirty-five and twelve at once. Finally he said, “I’m sorry.”
Eleanor did not rescue him from the silence afterward. “I’m sorry I used company money outside its purpose,” he continued. “I’m sorry I hid the conflict. I’m sorry I thought getting far enough into Mercer House would force you to approve it.”
“I’m sorry I let Sloan disrespect you because I was afraid disagreeing with her meant losing her.” He stopped, swallowed, and looked at his hands. “And I’m sorry I kept calling your boundaries control because that made mine easier to ignore.” Eleanor’s eyes filled.
She hated crying during important conversations because it made people rush. Harrison did not rush. After a while she said, “I am sorry too.” He looked up.
“I should not have burned her bag.” He almost smiled. “That’s the part you’re apologizing for?” “It is the part that was mine.”
Harrison nodded. Eleanor continued. “I also need to admit that your father and I sometimes structured your life as if preventing mistakes was the same as preparing you for responsibility. The trust is sound.”
“The company rules are sound. But I have not always been good at distinguishing advice from command.” Harrison stared at her. “That still doesn’t make what I did okay.”