I Missed My Plane, Helped a Homeless Mother — What Happened After I Gave Her My Key Still Haunts Me
Althea Vance managed a colossal family business empire she had inherited from her father. At just twenty-five years old, the crushing weight of the entire company had fallen squarely onto her young shoulders. She had dedicated her entire existence to the work, sacrificing everything else on the altar of success. As a direct result, she had never started a family of her own.
She only had her mother, Beatrice, who frequently took the opportunity to remind her of how important it was to find a beloved partner—a topic that irritated Althea to no end.
Althea parked her black sedan in the driveway exactly at 11:40 at night. She killed the engine and leaned her head back against the cool leather seat, closing her eyes for a moment to let the silence wash over her.
The day had been absolutely grueling. Negotiations with stubborn vendors had dragged on until late evening, draining her patience. Then, she had been forced to deal with a logistical crisis at the main warehouse. Immediately after that, another two hours were consumed by reviewing dense quarterly reports.
She was fifty-five now. It was an age when the body no longer forgave such relentless marathons.
She looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her dark brown skin showed undeniable signs of deep-seated fatigue. There were fine lines etching the skin near her temples that hadn’t been there a year ago, and her usually sharp, professional hairstyle was slightly frayed at the edges, mirroring her own internal state.
Thirty years ago, when her father handed her the reins of the company, she looked completely different. Back then, she was full of boundless energy, ambition, and a fire to move mountains. Now, after three decades of constant grinding, every single day felt like a trench war she had to win just to keep the business afloat.
Althea got out of the car, pulled her heavy leather briefcase from the trunk, and headed for the front door. The house greeted her with dim, ambient light in the hallway and a heavy, suffocating silence. No, not complete silence. From the kitchen came the low, muffled murmur of the television.
Kicking off her heels in relief and hanging up her trench coat, Althea walked into the kitchen in her stocking feet. As expected, her mother, Beatrice Vance, was sitting at the table.
Beatrice was holding an old, faded photograph in her hands, gazing at it with a strange, wistful expression. On the table stood a cup of half-finished, cold tea. Seeing Althea enter, she quickly tucked the photo under a napkin and turned her attention to the TV screen, which was broadcasting some late-night health program.
«Almost midnight again, and you’re just getting in from work,» Beatrice said without turning her head back to her daughter. Her voice sounded tired, but the deep-seated dissatisfaction within it was unmistakable. «When will you stop torturing yourself and finally breathe? Do you not understand that at your age, rest isn’t a luxury, it’s necessary?»
Althea felt something tighten painfully inside her chest, a familiar vise of guilt and resentment. Every evening it was the same thing; every time, the same words, the same reproachful tone.
She walked past her mother to the bar area, took out a bottle of red wine, and poured herself a generous glass.
«That’s enough, Mama,» Althea’s voice came out louder and sharper than she had planned. «I hear these lectures every single day. I am too tired for this tonight.»
Beatrice finally tore her eyes away from the television and swiveled in her chair to face her daughter. Her face expressed genuine bewilderment, as if she couldn’t understand the hostility.
«What lectures? I’m just worried about you, Althea. You work like you’re cursed. You give yourself no respite, no peace. And have you ever stopped to think about why things turned out this way?»
Althea interrupted her by taking a large gulp of wine. The liquid burned her throat pleasantly.
«What do you mean?» Beatrice straightened up in her chair, a look of wariness appearing in her eyes as she sensed the shift in the atmosphere.
Althea set the glass on the table with a heavy thud and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. It was as if a dam had broken inside her. All the words that had been piling up for thirty years, all the grievances and unspoken accusations, came flooding out in a torrent.
«Does it not matter that it was you and Daddy who sculpted my life this way?» Her voice trembled with the weight of accumulated emotion. «It was you two who separated me from Julian, claiming he wasn’t ‘good enough’ for a Vance.»
She grabbed the glass again and took several more nervous sips. The warmth of the wine, combined with the sheer exhaustion of the day, began to erode her usual iron-clad restraint.
«Julian?» Beatrice asked, genuine surprise reflected on her aging face. «My God, Althea, that was over thirty years ago. He was just a simple student without a dime in his pocket.»
«He loved me!» Althea shouted, the sound echoing in the large kitchen. «He genuinely loved me, Mama. But you and Daddy convinced me that I deserved better, that he wasn’t good enough, that he had no ambition and would drag me down.»
«We wanted a better life for you, we wanted you to be secure,» Beatrice began, her voice rising in defense, but her daughter didn’t let her finish.
«And the next suitor was Daddy’s competitor,» Althea continued, her voice becoming increasingly cracked and raw. «Too ambitious, you said. ‘He’ll strip us of everything, take over the company.’ And then it was ‘wrong age,’ or ‘need to think about grad school,’ or ‘your career is more important than romance right now.'»
She sank onto the chair opposite her mother, the fight draining out of her legs, tears glinting in her eyes.
«And then I had to take over the company,» Althea’s voice dropped to a ragged whisper. «Daddy died, and everything crashed down on me. When was I supposed to meet men? When? When all my time went into keeping the company at a respectable level? When I was grinding for fourteen hours a day for three decades, just so I wouldn’t ruin what Father built?»
Beatrice sat silently, pressing her lips into a thin, pale line. Her fingers nervously picked at the edge of the linen napkin, beneath which lay the hidden photograph.
«Don’t blame us for everything,» she finally said, steel entering her quiet voice. «We always did everything we could for you. Your father built this company from zero. We wanted you to have a future, a legacy.»
«And where is this better future?» Althea laughed bitterly, a hollow sound. «Where is it, Mama? I am fifty-five years old. No husband, no children, no grandchildren that you want to babysit so badly. Only a mother who constantly drives me crazy with her moralizing about the life she ensured I wouldn’t have.»
«Don’t you dare speak to me like that.» Beatrice rose sharply from her chair, her small frame trembling with indignation. Her face had paled, and her eyes flashed with anger. «Don’t you dare. I am your mother.»
«So what?» Althea stood up too, matching her mother’s stance. «Does that give you the right to control my life forever? You ruined it, Mama. You ruined it yourself with your expectations.»
«You are guilty of your own choices!» Beatrice shouted back. «You missed your time. No one forced you to slave away for days on end. Other women somehow managed to work and start a family.»
«Other women aren’t carrying a multi-million dollar business on their backs,» Althea snapped brutally. «Other women don’t live with parents who think no one on earth is worthy of their precious daughter.»
«We just wanted you not to make a mistake.»
«A mistake?» Althea laughed hysterically, tears spilling over. «I made a mistake anyway, Mama. I made the biggest mistake of my life when I listened to you thirty years ago. Julian now owns a chain of restaurants in three cities. And remember Marcus, Dad’s competitor? He has two grown children, a successful company, and a happy life. And I… I am alone with Father’s company.»
A heavy silence hung in the air, thick enough to choke on. Beatrice sank back onto the chair as if her strength had suddenly evaporated.
«You are being unfair,» she said quietly, her voice wavering. «Father and I worked all our lives to give you the very best. Education, the company, this big house.»
«I didn’t want the company!» Althea screamed, the confession finally tearing out of her. «I wanted to love and be loved. I wanted children. I wanted to wake up next to a person who holds me, not next to a stack of cold documents.»
«Then why did you agree to lead the company?» Beatrice looked up at her daughter with a challenge in her wet eyes. «No one forced you with a gun to your head.»
«How did you not force me?» Althea felt the tears finally break through completely, streaming down her face. «Daddy lay in the hospital dying, begging me not to let the company fall apart. His entire life was in this business. And you… you cried every day saying that if I didn’t take control into my own hands, we would lose everything. That Daddy’s life would turn to dust. How could a twenty-five-year-old girl refuse that burden?»
Beatrice turned away toward the window, looking out into the darkness. Her shoulders were trembling.
«I didn’t know you thought that way. I thought you wanted it,» she whispered.
«Of course you didn’t know,» Althea answered wearily, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. «You never asked what I wanted. You always knew better.»
Althea finished the rest of the wine in one gulp and placed the empty glass on the table with finality.
«I need to sleep. Important meeting tomorrow. As always.»
She headed for the kitchen exit but stopped at the threshold without turning around.
«You are right about one thing, Mama. I missed my time. But it happened not only because I decided so. It happened because you and Father didn’t let me live my own life.»
Althea went up to her room, closed the door, and leaned her back against it, sliding down to the floor. Downstairs in the kitchen, the light was still on. She realized she couldn’t change her mother’s mind. Beatrice always believed she was right.
Arguing or explaining anything was pointless. This fight, like dozens before it, would change nothing. Tomorrow morning, they would speak coldly and stiffly again, pretending nothing had happened.
As always, Althea woke up with a heavy head and a bitter taste in her mouth. The wine yesterday had not been the best idea, especially before such an important work day. She looked at the clock. Seven in the morning. She needed to get ready.
Coming down to the kitchen, dressed and armored for the day, Althea discovered her mother wasn’t there. Usually, Beatrice got up early and by this time was already sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper.
The table was bare. Even the napkin Beatrice had been fiddling with the night before was gone.
The kitchen is empty today. She’s probably offended after yesterday and staying in her room, Althea thought, pouring herself coffee from the machine.
Guilt gnawed at her from the inside, a dull ache, but she quickly suppressed it. There was no time to deal with family dramas right now. Negotiations with crucial new investors were ahead, and she needed to prepare. She ate a hasty breakfast, left a short, neutral note for her mother on the table—We’ll be back late—and drove to work.
