It was opened immediately by a girl of about nine or ten with black curly hair and dark, saucerlike eyes. She smiled at me shyly.

“Is Alexa here?” I asked, trying to catch my breath and shift the fern to my other hip.

She looked behind her, then gazed up at me again.

I repeated myself.

Again, no response, just a bashful grin. Behind her, I saw a living room, its stained brown carpeting littered with toys. An ancient couch in a gray plaid fabric sat before an old TV with rabbit-ear antennae.

Just then, someone stepped into the living room. Alexa. “Who is it, Lucia?”

She saw me, and her face grew cold. Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

I stood frozen in the doorway. This was no hip loft condo, and Alexa wasn’t wearing cashmere. Instead, she had on tight blue workout pants, frayed at the hem, and a faded, black-and-white striped T-shirt that looked about ten years old. Was this her place? Was the girl her daughter?

“What are you doing here?” she repeated, her voice growing somewhat louder.

I thrust the fern forward. “This is for you.”

Now I couldn’t see her. All I knew was that she wasn’t taking the fern. My arms began to quiver. I set it on the floor. “I wanted to see how you were,” I said.

“Little late for that.” She crossed her arms.

The girl giggled. A woman of about forty-five crossed the room, carrying a smaller child. She stopped and glanced at me, then said something in Spanish.

“No one,” Alexa answered in English, never taking her gaze from me.

I cleared my throat. “Alexa, look…”

Just then another woman came into the living room. She looked remarkably like a tired, older Alexa, with white streaks through her long black hair.

“Hola,” she said to me.

“Hello.”

She turned to Alexa and they spoke in rapid Spanish, but still Alexa didn’t take her eyes from me.

There came a pounding on the stairs. I turned to see two boys in their early teens charging up the stairway. I moved, just in time for them to push past me into the apartment, barely giving me a look.

“I suppose you’re looking for this,” Alexa said, striding across the room and lifting a white sheaf of papers from the counter. The severance agreement.

“Well, ah…it would be nice if I could get that.”

Alexa crossed the room again, her walk slow and purposeful, until she was in the doorway near me. “Let’s go outside.”

We descended the stairs in silence. I was relieved beyond belief to see the cab still waiting. I gave him a cheery wave, hoping to convince him to stay a little longer. Two men watched us from a stoop to our right.

“You got a pen?” Alexa said, not looking me in the face. There was a proud raise to her chin, but her eyes looked almost misty. That expression broke my heart.

“You know what, Alexa,” I said. “Just forget it. It’s too small a severance, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for everything. And if you want to file suit against the company you should do that.” I could hear the entire HR department screaming Stop! in my head. I ignored them and continued on. “I also wanted to see if I could help you get another job.”

She scoffed. “You fired me, and now you’re here to help me?”

I had to admit, it sounded ridiculous.

“I’m not going to sue Harper, and I am going to sign this,” she said, shaking the agreement. “You know why? Because I support that family in there. And even though this is a pathetic severance, I need the money now.”

“Was that your little girl?”

She crossed her arms. A breeze blew a stray hair from her face, and despite myself, I noticed how beautiful she was. “She’s my niece,” Alexa said. “There’s another niece and nephew in there, too, as well as my stepsister and brother.”

“And was one of those women your mom?” The thought of Alexa still living with her mother was inconceivable.

She nodded. “And my aunt.” She turned to me again. “I’m the breadwinner for this family. For all these people. That is, until you fired me.”

“So you’re not from Kenilworth?” I asked in a jokey tone. As soon as I said it, I wanted to ask the guys on the stoop for their handgun and shoot myself.

Alexa sighed and shook her head.

“Well, seriously, what about those black cashmere sweaters?” I said.

“What about them?”

“How do you afford all of them if you’re supporting everyone here?”

“I bought three of them at TJ Maxx. I rotate.” She dipped her head, as if embarrassed by this, but it was me who felt like a monumental ass.

“Oh,” I said.

“Are you going to give me a pen?” Alexa gestured to my purse.

“Sure. Yeah, okay.” Flustered, I rummaged through it, scrabbling my fingers until I came up with an old Bic.

Alexa snatched it, signed the agreement and handed it to me. “Show’s over,” she said. “Time for you to go.”

As if on cue, the cabbie honked.

“Alexa, look,” I said. “I am truly sorry. If there’s anything I can do…”

She looked up the street. Her gaze was tired and sad. She moved to the front door and opened it with a key. “I think you’ve done enough,” she said. She stepped inside and slammed the door.

chapter eight

W hen Chris got home from work that night, I was sitting in his big chair, only a small lamp illuminating the room. I was distraught about Alexa.

“Honey, what are you doing?” Chris said. His voice was cheerful.

“Nothing.”

He switched on the overhead light, making me blink.

“What’s up?” He sat on the arm of the chair.

I looked at him, not sure where to start.

“What is it? Talk to me.”

Those words almost made me weep with relief. For the past two years, as Chris and I had grown steadily apart, I’d handled my emotional troubles on my own, wrestling in my mind in the dark of our bedroom, coming to my own decisions. But now here was my husband, attentive and wanting to talk. I didn’t care what had happened to suddenly bring him back. I didn’t care whether it was the frog or some freak shift in the universe. I was just happy he was there.

I reached out and touched his hand. “It’s Alexa.”

“I thought you got rid of her.”

“I did.” Now, I felt like weeping for a different reason. “I’ve destituted her whole family.”

“Is destituted a word?”

“Chris!”

“Sorry, hon, but this is silly. You didn’t harm her family.”

“I think I did.”

“What happened?”

I told Chris about the severance agreement and my visit to her apartment. “I thought she was from money,” I said. “She always acted so superior and dressed the part. But according to her, she supports all these people, in this tiny apartment.” I looked around our place and thought of all the relative riches we had-granite countertops, marble bathroom, enough space to avoid each other for years if we wanted.

“But Billy, it doesn’t matter if she’s rich or poor, you fired her for legitimate reasons.”

I sniffled. “That’s just the thing. I didn’t like her, but I don’t know that she needed to be fired. I think I just liked the power trip I got from being a VP. It was a convenience to get rid of her.”

“That’s not true,” Chris said. I grimaced at how good and honorable he apparently thought I was. It made me ashamed.

“I rationalized the decision,” I said. “I wanted her out, and so I came up with reasons why she should go. And because she’d gotten in a bit of trouble before it was easy to convince everyone. But I didn’t do the right thing. I certainly wasn’t thinking of the company. I was thinking of me.” I dropped my head in my hands.

“Move over,” Chris said, nudging me gently with his knee. He slid onto the big chair, pulling me onto his lap, embracing me. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt the serene comfort of him. This was what I’d missed.

“All right,” Chris said. “Now let’s figure out what you can do about it.”