I Returned to the Day He Brought His First Love Home-Chapter 85: Fierce Combat Power

"Don’t pay them any mind," Grace Winslow said, patting Irene Lynch’s hand. "If you’ve done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear. They’re free to say whatever they want. We just need to focus on living our own lives."

"That won’t do. You’re my daughter-in-law; how can I let them bully you like this? You just wait. Once your sister-in-law gets here, we’ll go put them in their place." Irene Lynch snorted, unable to let the insult slide.

Grace Winslow was helpless.

But she knew Irene Lynch’s temperament well.

She might seem gentle with her children and grandchildren, but she had been quite the spitfire in her younger days. She was never one to be trifled with.

Irene Lynch walked Grace Winslow home, then went out to have it out with the gossips.

The entire staff building was in an uproar that night.

The shouting match lasted a full two hours and nearly escalated into a physical fight. Ultimately, the turmoil ended with Irene Lynch emerging as the clear victor.

Irene Lynch returned home, puffed up with pride.

"Hmph, those little punks. Daring to argue with me." Irene Lynch was drenched in sweat. She strode in, chugged a large glass of water, and declared proudly, "Don’t they know I never lost an argument back in my day?"

Lily Callahan shook her head from the side. "Mom’s fighting spirit... no one for miles around can match it."

"Grace, I heard your textile factory has started making ready-to-wear clothing. Are you guys hiring?"

Grace Winslow nodded. "But your job is going well, isn’t it? Are you thinking of looking for a new one?"

"I’m perfectly happy at the hospital; why would I switch jobs? It’s not for me, I’m asking for someone else," Lily Callahan said, shaking her head.

She hesitated for a moment before explaining, "It’s for a relative of my sister-in-law. She’s great at sewing and worked in a tailor’s shop for a few years. I was just wondering if the factory would take her."

"Tell her to go apply at the factory," Grace Winslow said with a dismissive wave. "If she’s really skilled, we’ll definitely hire her. If she doesn’t have the ability, she won’t get in through the back door, either."

Lily Callahan breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, by the way, Grace, I still haven’t properly thanked you. Thanks to that several hundred you lent me, my dad is doing much better. He won’t be able to do heavy labor anymore, but he’ll have no problem taking care of himself."

"If it weren’t for you... I don’t know what I would have done."

"We’re family, there’s no need to be so formal. I’ll get mad if you keep this up," Grace Winslow said, patting Lily Callahan’s hand. "If you need help with anything else, all you have to do is ask."

Lily Callahan’s eyes welled up. She reached out and gave Grace Winslow a hug.

Grace Winslow rested at home for three days.

Once her wound had mostly healed, she returned to the factory.

The late September heat was intense.

The Indian summer was no joke.

The garment-making workshop had doubled in size.

Daily production now reached three thousand units.

Grace Winslow had just stepped into her office when Oscar Osborne sent someone to summon her.

"Director Osborne, you wanted to see me?" Grace Winslow knocked and entered, only to realize someone else was in the office.

She offered a greeting, then pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Grace, you’re back. Perfect timing. If you hadn’t come in today, I would have had to find you."

"We’ve run into a problem. The sewing machines we have are all old models that the garment factory next door phased out. They’re fine for making dresses, shirts, and pants, but they can’t handle jackets."

"Buying new machines isn’t cheap, and the procurement process is a huge hassle. There’s no guarantee our request would even be approved."

"But we already promised delivery by November, and now..."

Grace Winslow froze. She hadn’t considered that problem.

After all, they were a textile factory, not a garment factory. ’A textile factory applying to buy machinery for a garment factory? There’s no way in hell the higher-ups would approve that.’