The Cost of Ambition

On a golden afternoon in early autumn, Hannah drove three hours south to the rolling hills of Athens, Ohio, to visit her mother, Martha.

Martha lived in a cozy stone cottage surrounded by apple orchards, a place where Hannah had spent her childhood climbing willow trees and dreaming of the world.

They sat on the wrap-around porch, drinking fresh apple cider as the afternoon sun filtered through the turning leaves.

""I saw the article about you in the *Midwest Business Journal*, Hannah,"" Martha said, her voice rich with maternal emotion as she held her daughter’s hand. ""*'The Freight Pioneer Who Put Workers First.'* Your father would have bought fifty copies and handed them out at the post office.""

Hannah smiled, leaning her head against her mother’s shoulder. ""Dad always said that money is like manure, Mom: if you pile it up in one place, it stinks; but if you spread it around, it helps things grow.""

""He was right,"" Martha whispered, kissing Hannah’s forehead. ""I was so worried when the storm hit last year. I thought that man would break your spirit.""