Mrs. Callahan's POV
It had been two weeks since Tracy had walked into my life, trembling like a stray bird looking for shelter. A week since I'd found her on my doorstep, half-broken and too afraid to say much of anything. I won't lie, at first, I was not sure how it would all turn out. The whole city was buzzing with whispers about her— though no one here in Fairview seemed to look twice at her face. Still, I had wondered if taking her in was a mistake.
But now, watching her move around my house with a broom in her hand and a soft tune humming from her lips, I knew I had made the right choice.
She was brighter— just a little. Every morning she woke early, washed up, and asked what needed doing. She folded laundry without being told, helped me weed the little garden out back, and even learned the rhythm of my small kitchen. She didn't complain once about the borrowed clothes that hung loose on her or the creaky bed she slept in.
That morning, as she dusted the shelves, she surprised me by saying, "Next week, I will start looking for work. I can not keep depending on you."
Her voice was firmer than before, though her eyes still carried that sadness she tried so hard to hide.
I paused, wiping my hands on my apron, and smiled at her. "That's a fine idea, dear. Work will keep your mind busy. But do not rush yourself— healing takes time."
She gave me a small smile, the kind that does not quite reach the eyes but tries anyway. That smile stayed with me the whole morning.
Later that day, I walked down to the small clothing shop near the bus stop. I could not bear the thought of her stepping into interviews wearing my nephew's old hoodies and trousers. The shop wasn't grand— just rows of modest dresses and blouses hanging neatly— but it was enough. I picked two simple dresses, neat and professional, the kind that said I'm ready to work, without costing me more than I could manage.
When I brought the bag home and laid the dresses on the bed, Tracy stood frozen in the doorway. Her hands covered her mouth, and for a moment I thought she might cry.
"Mrs. Callahan." she whispered, almost scolding, "you didn't have to…"
"I know." I said gently, smoothing one of the dresses with my palm. "But I wanted to. You can't go job hunting in hoodies that reach your knees. Every girl deserves to feel presentable."
She walked closer, her fingers brushing the fabric like it was silk. "I will pay you back." she said quickly. "As soon as I find work, I will return the money."
I turned and touched her cheek softly. "Don't worry about that, sweetheart. Just get back on your feet. That is all the payment I want."
Her eyes filled with tears, but this time she did not look away. "Thank you." she whispered, voice thick. "I don't even know why you are this kind to me. You don't even know me."
I smiled. "I do not need to know everything to care. Sometimes kindness is just… kindness. And I see a good heart in you, Tracy. That is enough."
That evening, we were setting the table for dinner— two plates, as usual— when the front door opened and in walked my nephew, Aaron.
He was a tall, handsome young man, with the kind of easy grin that could melt the stiffest expression. He worked in the city, came by to check on me when he could. The moment he stepped in, I felt the air shift— Tracy's shoulders stiffened, her hands fumbling slightly with the cutlery.
"Aunt," Aaron greeted warmly, kissing my cheek. "It's been too long. You are looking well." Then his eyes slid toward Tracy, curious but polite. "And who's this?"
I hesitated only a second before answering. "This is Tracy." I said smoothly, careful not to let the weight of her name linger too long. "She's been helping me around the house. Tracy, this is my nephew, Aaron."
Tracy looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time. Her voice was soft but steady. "Nice to meet you."
Aaron's smile widened, that spark of interest flickering instantly in his eyes. "The pleasure's mine," he said, and I noticed how his gaze lingered just a fraction longer than necessary before he sat down.
As we ate, conversation flowed easily enough. Aaron asked her simple questions— where she was from, what kind of work she was looking for— and Tracy answered carefully, never giving too much away, yet still managing to sound genuine. I sat back, watching the exchange, noticing how her eyes lit up when she talked about wanting to start fresh, how Aaron leaned in a little whenever she spoke.
And then, almost casually, Aaron said, "There's a small opening at The Cole's company. Just an entry- level position, nothing fancy, but… it is work. They are still taking applications. I could put in a word for you, if you'd like."
Tracy froze, fork halfway to her mouth. " Cole's Company?" she repeated, the name unfamiliar on her tongue.
"Yes." Aaron nodded. "Big CEO here in Fairview. Cole Enterprises. The job's not much, but it's steady. Thought you might be interested."
For a moment, she seemed to retreat into herself, her eyes distant. Then slowly, she nodded. "Yes. I'd… I'd really appreciate that."
I said nothing, though inside, I felt a strange stirring. Perhaps this was fate, weaving its quiet threads while we sat around my modest little table.
And though Tracy didn't know it yet, the path she was about to step onto would change everything.