The man stood before hertall, composed, his expression restrained, leaving no room for argument.
Have they turned you out? he repeated softly, each word slicing the air like a blade.
Yes Poppy replied uncertainly. I didnt mean to cause trouble. I just came to try.
He studied her closely, then turned his gaze to the secretary.
How long have you been here? he asked, dry as toast.
Five years, Mr. Whitaker, the palefaced Mrs. Clarke answered.
And in five years you never learned the difference between a mother fighting for survival and a man who comes to bother her? his voice chilled. Call the head of the department. Immediately.
Mrs. Clarke swallowed audibly and fled to the back room.
Silence settled over the foyer.
Poppy didnt know what to say. Her heart pounded, her hands trembled. She couldnt understand why this manapparently the boss, perhaps even the ownerwas taking her side.
Please, you dont have to she whispered. Ill go. I dont want to be a burden.
No, he said calmly. You will stay.
A minute later a breathless man in a suit burst into the hall, clutching a folder.
Mr. Whitaker, I didnt know youd be here today
Obviously, Alex interrupted. And if people are looked after like this, Im not surprised we have such turnover.
The newcomer fell silent.
Young Sam tugged his mothers sleeve.
Mum, whos that man?
Hes the boss, she whispered.
Alex leaned slightly toward the boy.
Youre Sam, right?
Yes, the child answered shyly. And this is Mum.
I see. Youre lucky, Sam. Not every child has a mother like yours.
He glanced at Poppy.
Come with me.
The lift carried them to the top floor.
His office was spacious, with floortoceiling windows framing a sweeping view of London. A massive walnut desk, shelves of books, photographs, order and silence.
Have a seat, he said, shedding his coat.
Poppy sat gingerly, as if afraid to leave a mark on the polished surface.
Tell me about yourself. Not from a résumé from your life, he said, never breaking eye contact.
She swallowed.
I worked eight years in a garment factory until it shut down. After that I did cleaning, temp jobswhatever I could find. Im desperate for something steady. I saw you were hiring an assistant and thought maybe someone would listen.
Why here?
Because I want a better life for my son. I dont want him to live in the fear Ive known.
Sincerity glimmered in her eyes, rare and raw.
Alex Whitaker studied her for a long moment, then, in a low voice, asked:
The boys father?
He disappeared years ago. No word since. No one to help us.
He sighed, as if recalling something far away.
I understand.
He reached for the phone.
Poppy Bennett starts tomorrow. Full contract, full pay in pounds, and a place for Sam in the onsite nursery.
The line was met with a dead silence.
Yes, you heard correctly, he said, ending the call.
Poppy sprang from her chair.
Mr. Whitaker, I wont take this as charity!
It isnt charity, he replied evenly. Its a decision. You need a chance, and I need people who dont give up.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Thank you I dont know what to say.
Just say see you tomorrow, he smiled faintly.
Sam stepped forward.
Mum, will we have work now?
Yes, love. We will.
The weeks that followed slipped by like a dream.
Poppy proved herself an outstanding employeeprecise, organized, modest. Colleagues first watched her with curiosity, then with respect.
Sam came with her each day to the nursery, where he already had friends.
One morning, as Alex walked past the department, he stopped at her desk.
Hows it going?
Well, Mr. Whitaker. I still cant believe this is real.
Believe it. You earned it, he said, flashing a smile none of the staff had ever seen.
A few weeks later she was summoned to his office.
Alex stood by the window, a worn photograph in his hand.
Do you see this woman? he asked.
The picture showed a woman with a gentle smile and eyes that mirrored his own.
No who is she? Poppy whispered.
My mother. She was alone, came to an interview with me in hand. They turned her away. No one offered a hand.
He fell silent.
I promised myself that if I ever had the power to shape lives, I would never let a mother be humiliated because she has a child. When I saw you in the foyer I saw her.
Poppys tears fell without shame.
Thank you not just for the job. For everything.
Dont thank me. Thank yourself for not giving up.
Months passed.
Poppy moved into a modest but bright flat. Sam started school.
Life began to smell of hope.
One Friday evening Alex lingered by her desk.
Tomorrow Im heading to my country house by the lake. If youd like, bring Sam. Hell love it.
Im not sure its appropriate
Sometimes nothing has to be appropriate. Sometimes it just has to be true, he replied.
The next day, by the water, Sam tossed stones and laughed.
Poppy sat on a wooden bench beside Alex, watching the skys reflection ripple.
For the first time in many years she felt the world no longer stood against her.
Miracles dont happen when you wait for them,
but when youre convinced theyll never come.
