After Alexander dropped me off, I found Samuel waiting for me in the lobby. Alexander had called him on the drive back, so I knew he would be there to greet me and escort me up to the penthouse. However, as much as I was dying to shed my high heels for the day, I had a pit stop to make first.

“Samuel, do you know which apartment is Vivian’s?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I cringed, still hating the way he addressed me, but I didn’t bother to correct him this time. Some things were just ingrained.

“I want to stop by there for a bit. Would you mind taking me there?” He hesitated. I couldn’t blame him after the way I ditched him earlier in the day. He needed assurance, so I added, “You can be with me the whole time.”

Nodding, we walked over to the bank of elevators. Instead of entering the one that was exclusive for the penthouse, we stepped inside the lift that led to the apartment suites. When we reached Vivian’s floor, Samuel pointed down a long corridor.

“This way, ma’am.”

As we passed the doors for the residences, I absently wondered which apartment was Hale’s. Samuel stopped about halfway down the hallway, in front of a door with gold numbers which read 4812. Surrounding the numbers was a decorative wreath made of faux twigs and spritzes of flowers.

“Is this her apartment?”

“It is,” he told me.

“Thank you, Samuel,” I said and smiled my appreciation. I stepped in front of the door and rapped on it three times.

“Just a minute,” Vivian called from the other side of the door. I heard the sound of a security chain and the unlocking of a deadbolt before the door opened. “Why, Miss Cole! What a pleasant surprise.”

She greeted me with a bright smile, making the lines around her eyes crinkle. I suspected that she was in her early sixties, but I couldn’t be sure. She didn’t have a ton of wrinkles, but a smooth face that was only marred by lines from years of smiling. Her dark hair was swept up into a bun, the streaks of gray prominent within the knot. She was wearing an apron, as usual, and appeared to be dressed comfortably underneath. It was later in the evening, and I worried that I would disturb her. However, her attire didn’t suggest that she was going to bed anytime soon.

“Hello, Vivian. May I come in?”

“Of course, my dear!”

She stepped aside and motioned for me to follow her. She led me over to a long cherry wood dining set and pulled out a chair for me to sit at.

“Thank you,” I told her as I sat down.

“You still look a little flushed. How are you feeling? Can I make you a cup of tea or coffee? What about dinner? Have you eaten?”

I laughed.

“I’m fine, but thanks. I actually just wanted to come by and say thank you for the soup. It was very kind of you. In fact, I’m feeling considerably better than I did yesterday.”

Despite what I said, Vivian walked into the kitchen and set up an ornate looking percolator used for brewing coffee.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” she called over her shoulder. “Samuel, would you like a cup?”

I turned to look behind me. Samuel stood just inside the door. He was like a statue.

“No, ma’am,” he replied, his expression remaining stoic.

Vivian just shook her head and continued on with her task. While she prepared coffee, I looked around her apartment. Just as I imagined it would be, her space was tidy and neat, but not nearly as modern as Alexander’s penthouse. Vivian’s home was decorated with more traditional trends. The apartment had an open floor plan, larger than I would have expected, with a large kitchen, living room and dining area all within my view. Despite the open concept, it didn’t feel cold like the penthouse did at times. Vivian’s was warm and inviting.

When she returned, she carried a tray with two steaming cups of coffee and an assortment of cookies. I could use the coffee, but I avoided the cookies. I had lost a few pounds during the weeks I was in the hospital and I was determined to keep them off. I wasn’t sure, but there was something about Alexander seeing me naked every day that kept me motivated, and sweet treats didn’t get along very well with my hips or my behind.

“I appreciate the coffee, but really. You didn’t have to go through the trouble, Vivian.”

“Nonsense. I don’t mind,” she assured. She added a few dollops of cream to her cup and then looked quizzically at me. “So tell me. I’m sure my chicken soup isn’t the reason you’re here. What can I do for you?”

I blushed over the fact that she was able to sense an ulterior motive for my visit. I smiled and tried to keep my response light.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not used to having a housekeeper. I wanted to get to know you a little better. After all, you are the woman who washes my underwear,” I joked.

She gave me a soft smile, a gentle one that matched the look in her eyes.

“I wondered how long it would be before you came to see me. I’ll admit, you held out longer that I thought you would.”

I blinked, unsure of what she meant.

“I’m sorry?”

“Never mind. I’m just getting ahead of myself,” she dismissed. “So you want to know about me. Well, I’ve lived in this building for twenty-seven years. I came to work for Mr. Stone a little over ten years ago. It was right after he bought the penthouse. He was so young, obviously new to his wealth, but smart. So very smart. I mostly did basic cleaning for him a few times a week just for some extra cash. It wasn’t until…well, until later that I began working full time.”

I noticed the way her expression grew sad. To my surprise, her eyes misted over. Curious, I couldn’t help but to ask her what was wrong.

“What is it, Vivian?”

Instead of answering right away, she pulled a tissue from her apron pocket and dabbed the corners of her eyes. Folding it back up, she waved her hand back and forth as if suddenly embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t mind me. You’d think after all this time, I’d be able to talk about my deceased husband without getting all weepy.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to –.”

“No, no. It’s not you, dear. I’m just a silly old woman. Now, where was I?” She paused and seemed to be trying to collect her thoughts. “A year after I started working for Mr. Stone, my husband passed away. I loved my dear Wilson something fierce, but with his death came a mountain of debt that I couldn’t pay. When I told Mr. Stone that I would need to move, he wouldn’t hear of it. He paid off the debt and offered to pay me a regular salary if I stayed. That’s when I started working for him full-time. His only stipulation was that I be available at all times. Considering all that he did for me, I couldn’t refuse him.”

I gave her a wistful smile and felt my heart melt. I thought about what he did for Wally’s, my former employer, and how he saved the grocer from going under. I thought of Hale’s mother and about how Alexander paid for her stay at one of the best long-term care facilities in the city. And now, I had another story about Alexander’s generosity.

Vivian and I talked for another thirty minutes. I learned that she didn’t have any children or grandchildren that she was tied down to, so making the move to Westchester with us would be simple. After a while, I became incredibly comfortable with her and I regretted not getting to know her sooner. There was something familiar about her, like she was the grandmother I’d never known. My grandmother passed away right after I was born, so I have no memory of her. However, if she were alive, I imagined her to be much like Vivian.

Perhaps it was that connection that compelled me to bring up the topic I had been thinking about since I walked into her apartment.

“Vivian, I’m worried about Alexander.”

Vivian’s eyes darkened, yet they were sad at the same time.

“That’s honestly the reason I thought you came to see me today. I know he’s struggling, but don’t let that scare you off. You’re good for him. He needs your spunk.”

“I love him very much, Vivian. I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her. “You’ve been with him for a while now. What do you know about his past?”

I deliberately left the question open ended in an attempt to feel her out. I didn’t know how much Vivian knew and I didn’t want to betray Alexander’s confidence.

Vivian sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. She nodded slightly and seemed to contemplate her words before speaking. I almost wondered if she were the one feeling me out. When she spoke again, her voice was cautious.

“I know enough to know that he can’t be at peace until he has answers. He’s a good man. Hard at times, but good. He lets his past define him. Sometimes that’s good. Sometimes it’s bad.”

“How is it good?”

“Just look at all the work he does with his foundation. Take the woman’s shelter for example. I suspect there’s an underlying reason for that project.”

I nodded my agreement.

“I’ve often suspected the same. I just wish I could help him more, you know?” I shook my head sadly, feeling frustrated over the situation.

“Oh, but my dear! You do help him! You are his Dorothy!” she exclaimed. I was genuinely confused.

“His what?”

“Do you remember Dorothy, from The Wizard of Oz, and her ruby slippers?”

“How could I not? It’s a classic,” I laughed.

“It is a classic, but there’s a metaphor there too. With her ruby slippers, Dorothy had the power all along. You have a similar power, Krystina. And for Mr. Stone, you are the only place he calls home.”