Ivy Holden was over half an hour late. Clara Zimmers couldn't contain her anger any longer. The moment she saw Ivy, she immediately rebuked her, "What's going on? Why are you so late? Are you messing with us?"
"Auntie, if I were really messing with you, I wouldn't have come at all." Ivy Holden smiled faintly, her gaze landing on Holden Patterson's face. "You must be President Patterson."
"Miss Holden." Holden Patterson stood up amiably and extended his hand to Ivy Holden.
"My apologies." Ivy Holden held up her hands. "I just came from the restroom and forgot to wash them. I'd better not shake yours."
Holden Patterson hadn't expected such a lovely young woman to use that kind of excuse to refuse a handshake, so he chuckled. "Miss Holden, you certainly have a sense of humor."
Ivy Holden took a seat at the head of the table without hesitation, and Bill Holden took his place behind her.
