And if you’re so concerned with what’s yours, take the ring back too. I remember it clearly.” Elena silently pulled it off and tossed it to her.
Packing didn’t take long. She had no choice but to go back to the city.
Going back to Julie was out of the question. She was nearly out of money. At the bus station, she bought a newspaper and looked through the job listings.
One ad caught her eye: cleaning staff needed at a large corporate office. She went straight there. The office was in a sleek downtown business tower.
The building was all glass and steel. At the reception desk sat a friendly young woman.
“Can I help you?” she asked. “Yes,” Elena said. “I’m here about the job. I’d like to apply.”
“Do you have an appointment?” “No.” “Then I’m afraid I can’t help.” “Please,” Elena said quietly. “I really need this job.”
The desperation in her face softened the receptionist. “All right. Have a seat. I’ll see if one of the deputies can spare a minute.” A few minutes later she returned with good news.
“Go ahead. Office is down the hall.” “Thank you.” Elena pushed open the heavy door.
The room was enormous. One glance told her there would be plenty of floor to mop. “Come in,” said the man behind the desk.
“I hear you’re determined.” “I really need the work,” Elena said. “I’m not afraid of hard work.” “That’s good.
What’s your background?” “I just graduated from medical school.” “A doctor? And you’re applying for a cleaning job? That doesn’t add up.”
Elena hesitated, then decided not to lie. “I’ll be honest. I don’t have anywhere to live.
I was hoping I could work here and sleep in a storage room until I get paid.” She flushed with embarrassment, but she also felt oddly relieved to tell the truth. The manager stared at her for a moment.
There was no self-pity in her voice, only plain fact. “You’re really homeless?” “At the moment, yes.” “All right.
You’re hired. The CEO won’t object. Listen carefully: downstairs we have conference rooms.
They’re used for interviews during the day and sit empty after six. The couches are decent. You can sleep there.”
“You mean that?” “I respect honesty. There are enough smooth talkers in the world. Decent people are harder to find.”
“Thank you. I won’t forget it.” “You’re welcome. Irene,” he said into the phone, “show our new hire the supply room and one of the conference rooms.” Elena felt a wave of relief. At least she wouldn’t be sleeping on a bench.
The receptionist showed her a utility room full of cleaning supplies. There was enough space for her bag. Elena set it down and sat on a stool.
Once she was alone, she finally let herself cry. The hurt Mike had caused still burned in her.
After the office emptied out that evening, she moved into one of the conference rooms. Exhaustion took over, and she fell asleep almost immediately.
Sometime later, a man’s voice woke her. “Yes, I’m looking for it. The secretary must have left it in here.” Elena sat up and found herself staring at a man rifling through papers on the conference table.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’ll get out of your way.” “Wait a second,” he said. “You look familiar. Weren’t you at that hospital?” “And you’re Arthur,” Elena said.
“Peter Simmons’s nephew.” “That’s right. What are you doing here?” “Apparently I’m in charge of keeping this place clean now.
I start tomorrow.” “And why aren’t you going home?” “I don’t have one. Management was kind enough to let me stay here until my first paycheck.”
“Remind me of your name?” “Elena.” “Right.
Get some rest, Elena. I’m leaving anyway.” The next morning, Elena woke to find Arthur carrying in a tray with coffee and pastries.
“Good morning. Thought you might want breakfast.” The smell of the pastry turned her stomach. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Morning sickness.”
“I’m sorry. Wait—you’re pregnant?” “Nothing to congratulate me on.
No husband, no apartment. I’m scheduled to terminate the pregnancy tomorrow.” “Are you sure?” Arthur asked. “Let me help.
You didn’t walk away from Uncle Pete. Let me return the favor.” That same evening, he moved her into Peter’s apartment.
Arthur had never been able to sell it. Too many memories. When Peter’s sons finally surfaced, Arthur simply bought out their rights. “Stay here,” he said.
“There’s plenty of room. We can even turn one room into a nursery. If you want, I’ll send a crew over to freshen up the walls.” “That’s too much. You’ve already done enough.”
“I’m not arguing about it. It makes me happy to help.” Four years passed from that turning point. Elena became a fully licensed physician.
She worked at a respected hospital almost until the end of her pregnancy, thanks to a position Arthur helped arrange. She gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Arthur covered everything—from the private room to the stroller—and became deeply involved in the child’s life. He even gave the boy his last name.
After maternity leave, Elena advanced quickly. Arthur, meanwhile, funded the construction of a modern palliative care center and a family clinic. Elena was appointed medical director.
“Are you sure I can handle that?” she asked. “It’s exactly what you’re meant for,” Arthur said. “You fought for those patients when no one else did.
You’re the right person.” “I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve been family to me. And to my son.”
“I’m the one who owes you,” Arthur said. “Without you, I might have drunk myself into the ground after everything that happened.”
Elena became one of the city’s most respected physicians. Her schedule was booked months in advance. She especially loved working with children.
Then one ordinary shift was shattered by a man shouting down the hallway. “Get the chief doctor in here now!” he yelled, carrying a limp teenage boy in his arms. “What happened?” Elena turned—and froze.
