After my divorce, I got a new job, and every day I’d leave a few coins for the frail old woman sitting outside the storefront. One day, when I bent down to set the money down like usual, she suddenly gripped my hand tight and whispered, “You’ve done so much for me. Don’t go home tonight. Stay at a hotel tomorrow—I’ll show you something.”
They sat like that for a few minutes until Simone calmed down. Then she washed her face, drank some water, and sat back on the sofa.
“You know what’s strange?” she said, looking out the window. “I only worked at that firm for two and a half months, and I almost died. All because I asked one question, just one question about missing signatures.”
“You did the right thing,” Sierra said. “If you had stayed silent, they would have kept using you, and when the scheme was exposed, they would have blamed everything on you. Said you, the accountant, organized it all.”
“You’re probably right.”
Simone stood up and went to the window. An ordinary day was beginning outside. People were rushing to work, cars were stuck in traffic, and children were playing somewhere. Life went on no matter what.
“Sierra, I need to go see Ms. Jenkins and thank her. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
“Want me to go with you?”
“No, I’ll go alone. It’s personal.”
Sierra nodded understandingly.
“Be careful then.”
Simone took her phone, dressed, and left the apartment. The ride to Decatur Station was about twenty minutes on the train. On the way, she thought about what she would say to Ms. Jenkins. How do you thank someone who saved your life? Words couldn’t express it.
Exiting the MARTA, Simone looked around the familiar spot. Kiosks, stands, crowds of people, and there, by the wall on the worn cardboard, sat Ms. Thelma Jenkins in the same faded coat with the same tin cup in front of her.
Simone walked up and crouched beside her.
“Ms. Jenkins.”
The old woman looked up and smiled.
“Ah, dear, I see you’re alive and well, so everything worked out.”
“Yes. They caught them all—the director and the guard. Thanks to your photographs, you saved my life.”
Ms. Jenkins waved her hand dismissively.
“Oh, that’s nothing. I was just a woman who happened to be in the right place at the right time. You saved yourself by listening to me. If it hadn’t been you, then something else would have happened. Fate is like that. If you’re meant to survive, you will. And if you’re meant to die, you can’t run. The important thing is that you were kind to me. You tossed me change every day, said hello, treated me like a person, not a beggar. That kindness came back to you.”
Simone pulled an envelope from her pocket. Inside were five hundred dollars—all the money she had left after the fire.
“Please take this. It’s not payment for saving me. It’s just from my heart.”
Ms. Jenkins looked at the envelope, then at Simone.
“Dear, you need the money yourself. Your house burned down. Your apartment is gone.”
“I’ll get the insurance money. I’ll find a new job. You need it more right now. Please take it. Don’t refuse.”
The old woman slowly took the envelope and tucked it into her coat pocket.
“Thank you, dear. God bless you. You’re a good person.”
Simone hugged her, feeling the old woman tremble—fragile, small, but with such a strong spirit.
“Ms. Jenkins, where do you live? Maybe I can help somehow.”
The old woman sighed.
“Nowhere, dear. I sleep here, there, in stairwells, at the bus station. My children cut me off. My grandchildren don’t know me. My Social Security check is small. It’s not enough for housing.”
Simone felt her heart clench.
“Would you like to live in a retirement home? You’d have a roof over your head, food, medical care.”
Ms. Jenkins shook her head.
“I would, of course, but the waiting list is huge, and they’re mostly private. I can’t afford it.”
“I’ll help,” Simone said firmly. “I promise. As soon as I get my own life sorted out a little, I’ll take care of yours. You deserve a peaceful old age.”
The old woman looked at her with gratitude.
“You’re an angel, dear. A true angel.”
They sat a little longer, talking about trivial things. Ms. Jenkins told Simone how she ended up on the street. Her husband died ten years ago. Her children moved away across the country and stopped helping. She had to sell the apartment to pay off her husband’s debts.
Simone listened, thinking how unfair the world was. This woman had lived a long life, raised children, and ended up on the street.
“Ms. Jenkins, I promise you I won’t abandon you,” Simone said, standing up. “I’ll come back when everything is settled, and we’ll find you a proper place.”
“Go, dear, and be happy. You are good, and life will repay you with kindness.”
Simone said goodbye and headed back to the MARTA. Her heart felt warm. Despite all the difficulties, she was alive. The criminals were caught. And now she had a goal—to help the person who saved her.
The next two weeks flew by in a blur. Simone gave statements to the detective, met with a lawyer, and dealt with filing the insurance claim for her burned apartment. The process was long and exhausting. The insurance company demanded countless documents, affidavits, and expert evaluations. Simone drove from one office to another several times a day, collecting paperwork.
She stayed with Sierra, and her friend never complained, even though the close quarters were noticeable. A one-bedroom apartment for two is a test, even for the best of friends. But Sierra was a trooper, cracking jokes, cooking dinner, and trying to keep Simone’s spirits up.
On Friday, two weeks after the fire, Hayes called Simone.
“Simone Lawson, I have news. The investigation is complete. The case has been sent to court. Victor Sterling is charged with fraud and attempted murder. Kevin Barnes and Dwayne Harris are charged with attempted murder and arson. Gary Thompson will receive a sentence for conspiracy to commit fraud. All defendants are in custody awaiting trial.”
“When is the trial?”
“In two or three months at the earliest. You’ll be called to give testimony, but it’s a formality. The evidence is sufficient. They all confessed.”
“So, I can finally live in peace.”
“Yes. The threat is gone. By the way, one more piece of news. Remember Ms. Jenkins, the old woman? We took her statement. She confirmed that she saw the arsonists and photographed them. Her testimony was included in the case as important evidence.”
“She’s a good woman, Ms. Jenkins. It’s a shame she’s living on the street. I promised to help her,” Simone said. “As soon as I sort out my own life, I’ll arrange housing for her.”
“That’s admirable. I might be able to help with the arrangements. I have contacts at a government-affiliated facility of that type. If you need anything, call me.”
Simone thanked him and hung up. She sat on the sofa holding the phone and thought about the future. What now? Find a new job, rent an apartment. The insurance would cover some of the losses, but not all of it. She had to start from scratch.
The next day, Saturday, Simone opened job websites, browsing listings for accountants and sending out résumés. By evening, she had sent ten applications. Now, all she could do was wait.
On Monday, she got a call from a company, Summit Financial Corp. They offered her an interview. Simone agreed, writing down the address and time.
On Tuesday, she went to the meeting. The Summit office was located in a modern high-rise in the city center. Simone was met by the HR manager, Olga Johnson, a pleasant woman in her forties. They talked for half an hour, discussing Simone’s experience, her skills, and her salary expectations. Olga asked questions about her previous workplaces, and Simone honestly told her about Prime Solutions without going into detail about the criminal case.
“I understand,” Olga nodded. “Sometimes you end up in the wrong company, but your experience is impressive. Fifteen years in accounting is serious. We’re ready to make you an offer. The salary is fifty-five thousand on probation. After three months, it goes up to sixty-five thousand. Nine-to-six schedule, Saturdays and Sundays off. Does that work for you?”
Simone nodded. The terms were acceptable, much better than at Prime Solutions.
“It works. When can I start?”
“Next Monday, if you agree.”
They shook hands and Simone left the office with a feeling of relief. The first step was taken. She had a job. Now she needed to solve the housing problem.
That evening, she discussed it with Sierra.
“Hey, maybe we should rent a two-bedroom apartment together,” Sierra suggested. “I’m lonely here by myself, and it would be cheaper if we split the rent.”
Simone considered it. The proposal was reasonable. Renting a one-bedroom apartment alone would be expensive, and she and Sierra had already adjusted to living together.
“That’s a great idea. Let’s look.”
They spent the evening browsing rental listings. They found a few suitable options, called the owners, and arranged viewings for the weekend.
On Saturday, they looked at three apartments. The first was too expensive. The second was in poor condition. But the third was perfect—a two-bedroom on the second floor in a quiet neighborhood close to the MARTA. The furniture was simple but solid. The landlady, an elderly woman named Mrs. Dolores Washington, asked for $1,750 a month, plus utilities.
Simone and Sierra exchanged glances and agreed. $875 each. Totally manageable.
“When will you move in?” Mrs. Washington asked.
“Tomorrow, if we can,” Sierra replied.
“Then let’s sign the lease. You pay the first month and the security deposit and you can move in. The main thing for me is that you’re decent people and not drinkers.”
“We don’t drink,” Simone assured her. “And we’ll keep it tidy.”
They signed the lease, paid the money, and got the keys. The next day, they moved their belongings. Sierra didn’t have much. Simone had even less. Everything had burned in the fire. But this was the start of a new life, and Simone felt her old confidence returning with each passing day.
On Monday, she started her new job. The team at Summit was friendly. Brenda Gene Holloway, the chief accountant, a woman in her fifties with graying hair and kind eyes, showed Simone around the office, pointed out her workstation, and explained her duties. The work was demanding, but it was clear and straightforward. No suspicious transactions, no fraudulent documents. Everything was legal and transparent.
Simone immersed herself in the work, checking accounts, preparing reports, and reconciling invoices. The routine was calming. It restored her sense of stability. Her colleagues were welcoming. No one asked unnecessary questions about her previous job. After a week, Simone felt like she was settling in.
But thoughts of Ms. Jenkins still occupied her mind. Every morning, passing Decatur Station, Simone stopped, greeted the old woman, and gave her money. Not change as before, but one or two hundred dollars. Ms. Jenkins would thank her, ask how she was doing, and express happiness for Simone.
“Dear, you’ve done so much for me already,” the old woman said. “You don’t need to give me more money. Live your own life.”
“Ms. Jenkins, I promise to help you get into a retirement home, and I’m going to do it. It just takes time.”
Simone started looking for information about retirement homes in the city. It turned out there were public and private ones. Public ones were free, but the waiting list was huge. You could wait for years. Private ones were expensive, starting at $2,500 a month. This was a significant sum for Simone, but she wasn’t going to give up.
She remembered Hayes’s offer to help with a public facility and called him, reminding him of his promise. A few hours later, he called Simone back and gave her the number for the director of a retirement home on the outskirts of the city. The facility was called Serenity Gardens.
Simone drove there and met the director, Angela Stone, an energetic woman. The home looked clean and well-maintained. The rooms were bright, and the dining room smelled of fresh baking. The elderly residents sat in the common room watching television and playing checkers.
“We have an opening,” Angela said. “A single room. You can bring your ward for a visit. Let her see what it’s like.”
Simone arranged it, and the next day she brought Ms. Jenkins to Serenity Gardens. The old woman entered the building timidly, looking around. Angela showed them around the floors, pointing out the room meant for Ms. Jenkins. It was small but cozy: a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, a television, and a window overlooking the garden.
“You’ll live right here,” Angela said. “Meals three times a day in the dining room. A nurse on duty around the clock. A doctor makes rounds every week.”
Ms. Jenkins stood in the middle of the room, tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks.
“Dear, this is like a dream. I never could have imagined something like this.”
Simone put her arm around her shoulders.
“It’s real, Ms. Jenkins. You deserve a peaceful old age.”
The old woman sniffled and leaned against Simone.
“You’re an angel, a true angel of God. How can I ever repay you?”
“You already repaid me. You saved my life. Now it’s my turn to help you.”
They returned to Angela’s office and filled out the paperwork. Ms. Jenkins could move in today.
“I don’t have any belongings,” the old woman said. “Just what I’m wearing.”
“It’s fine,” Simone replied. “We’ll buy everything you need. Clothes, shoes, toiletries. We’ll go shopping right now.”
They spent the rest of the day buying things. Simone bought Ms. Jenkins two outfits, a warm robe, slippers, a toothbrush, soap, shampoo, and towels. The old woman was embarrassed, saying it was too much, but Simone didn’t listen. She could see Ms. Jenkins’s eyes shining with happiness, and that was the best reward.
By evening, they returned to Serenity Gardens. Ms. Jenkins took a shower—the first in many months—and changed into new clothes with the help of a nurse. When Simone came into her room to say goodbye, the old woman was sitting on the bed, clean, her hair combed, wearing a fresh robe, and smiling.
“Dear, I feel like I’m in heaven. I can’t even believe this is real.”
“It is real, Ms. Jenkins. Live peacefully and get your strength back. I’ll come visit you.”
“You are so kind. You know, I’ve always believed that kindness comes back. When I was left on the streets, I thought I was wrong. But no, you prove to me that I was right. Kindness always comes back, just not right away.”
Simone kissed the old woman on her wrinkled cheek and left the room. On the way home, she thought about how strangely everything had worked out. Two months ago, she was an unhappy divorced woman working for a questionable firm, barely making ends meet. Then came the fire. She almost died and she lost her apartment. Now she had a new life and the feeling that she had done something truly important. She had helped a person who deserved it.
In mid-May, she received a notice from the insurance company. The payout was approved. Simone received $90,000 for her burned apartment. It was significantly less than the market value, but it was something. Simone deposited the money and started planning. She decided to save some of the money for the future in case of unforeseen expenses. She would spend the rest on furniture and furnishing the apartment she shared with Sierra.
Three weeks later, Simone returned to the retirement home to visit Ms. Jenkins. The old woman sat by the window looking at the garden. In three weeks, she had visibly changed. Her face was fresher and her eyes sparkled. She had gained weight and looked younger.
“Ms. Jenkins, I brought you a cake and some good tea.”
The old woman turned and looked at Simone with wide eyes.
“Dear, thank you. I was waiting for you. How are you doing?”
“I got the insurance payout for the apartment. I have a new job. You’re fed, warm, and safe. What more could I ask for?”
Ms. Jenkins wept. Simone hugged her, stroking her gray hair.
“Don’t cry. Everything is fine. You deserve this peaceful life.”
“Dear, I… I don’t know how to thank you. You restored my faith in people. I thought the world was cruel, that no one cared about anyone else. But you showed me that’s not true.”
“The world is diverse, Ms. Jenkins. There are bad people like Sterling and Barnes, but there are good people like Detective Hayes, like Sierra. The important thing is not to lose faith.”
They sat together for another hour, drinking tea with cake and talking about life. Ms. Jenkins told stories about her youth, her husband, and her children. Simone listened, feeling warmed by the stories. The old woman had lived a long life full of both joy and sorrow. But at the end of her journey, she had found peace.
Before leaving, Simone said, “Ms. Jenkins, don’t worry about anything. I’ll keep coming just as I promised.”
“Dear, you do too much for me. You have your own life, your own plans.”
“Ms. Jenkins, you saved my life. That’s not something you forget. And besides, it’s not hard for me. The job is good. The salary is decent. I can afford to help someone who deserves it.”
The old woman cried again, but these were tears of gratitude and happiness.
In November, Simone received an unexpected call. It was Victor Sterling’s lawyer.
“Ms. Lawson. My name is Michael Yarrow. I represent the interests of Victor Sterling. He would like to meet with you.”
Simone was taken aback.
“Meet? Why?”
“He wants to apologize. I understand this is a strange request, but my client insists. The meeting would take place at the detention facility in the presence of guards. There is no danger to you.”
Simone thought it over. Part of her wanted to refuse. Why should she see the man who tried to kill her? But another part was curious. What did he want to say?
“All right. I’ll come. When?”
“This Saturday at two in the afternoon. I’ll send you the address and the visitor pass.”
On Saturday, Simone drove to the detention facility—a grim building on the outskirts of the city, high fences, barbed wire. She went through security and was led to the visitation room, a small space with two chairs on opposite sides of a table, separated by thick glass.
A few minutes later, Sterling was brought in. He had changed greatly in six months. He had lost weight, aged, and his hair was completely gray. He sat across from Simone and picked up the phone receiver. Conversation was only possible through it.
“Hello, Ms. Lawson,” he said quietly.
“Hello,” Simone replied coldly.
“Thank you for coming. I… I wanted to apologize. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I needed to say it. I was wrong. I did terrible things. I tried to kill you to cover up my crime. It’s unforgivable. It’s a heavy burden on my heart, and it won’t let me rest.”
Simone remained silent, looking at him.
“Why did you do it?” she finally asked. “Why did you need that scheme with the shell companies?”
Sterling lowered his eyes.
“Debt. I had huge debts. I took out loans to start the business, but it failed. Collectors started threatening me. I panicked and started looking for ways to make money quickly. Thompson offered the money-laundering scheme. I transferred money to his firms. He returned the cash to me, taking a percentage. That’s how I took money out of the company’s revenue, paid off debts. I used you because you were new and didn’t know all the details. I thought you wouldn’t notice, but you did notice. You asked about the missing signatures and I got scared that you would expose the whole scheme. I decided to get rid of you. I hired Barnes. It was my mistake. A huge, unforgivable mistake.”
“You tried to kill me,” Simone said firmly. “Burn me alive. If it hadn’t been for Ms. Jenkins, I would be dead.”
“I know. I think about it every day. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. I just wanted you to know that I’m ashamed. I realize what I did. Eight years in prison is a fair punishment, maybe even too little.”
Simone looked at him and felt her anger draining away. Sitting before her was not a cartoon villain, but a broken man who had made a terrible mistake and was now paying for it.
“I can’t forgive you,” she said. “But I see that you repent. I hope these years teach you something.”
“They will teach me. I’ll be making amends for my guilt for the rest of my life. Thank you for listening.”
Simone put down the receiver and left the room. Outside, she took a deep breath of fresh air. The meeting had been difficult, but necessary. Now she could put a period on this story and move on without bitterness or anger.
December brought the first snow. The city transformed, decorated with garlands and Christmas trees. Simone and Sierra put up a small tree in the apartment and hung tinsel. On New Year’s Eve, Simone went to Serenity Gardens to wish Ms. Jenkins a happy holiday and give her a gift—a warm throw blanket and a box of chocolates.
The old woman greeted her in a festive mood.
“Dear, Happy New Year. I’m so glad to see you.”
They sat in the room, drank tea, and talked about their New Year’s plans. Ms. Jenkins said the retirement home was preparing a holiday concert and she would be singing in the choir.
“You know, dear, I look back on this last year of my life as the happiest,” she said. “Even though before it I was homeless, hungry, and cold. But you appeared, and everything changed. You showed me that the world is not as cruel as I thought. That there are kind people who help simply from the heart.”
“You helped me, too, Ms. Jenkins. You saved my life without expecting a reward, just because I was kind to you. See how it works? Kindness comes back.”
The old woman nodded, smiling.
“Yes, dear. It always comes back. I knew that my whole life, but in my old age, I doubted it, and you reminded me of that truth.”
Simone hugged her, and they sat there watching the falling snow outside the window. The city was preparing for the holiday. Lights twinkled in the darkness, and people hurried home with gifts. And somewhere in this big world, two people—a young woman and an elderly one—had found the family they didn’t have.
A few days later, just after the New Year’s holidays, Angela Stone called Simone.
“Simone, I have news. Remember I told you about Ms. Jenkins’s daughter, Candace? She came by yesterday.”
“She came? Why?”
“She said she had changed her mind. She wants to mend her relationship with her mother. She brought gifts, apologized, and cried. Ms. Jenkins initially didn’t want to see her, but then she agreed to talk.”
“How did it go?”
“It was difficult. They talked for about two hours. Candace explained that she had been selfish, that she was ashamed of her past, and that she realized her mistake. Ms. Jenkins listened and cried. In the end, they reconciled. Candace promised to visit every month and even offered to take her mother home, but Ms. Jenkins refused. She said she was happy here and didn’t want to leave.”
Simone smiled. So, Ms. Jenkins had another support system in her life. Her daughter had returned. Maybe her son would come to his senses someday, too.
“That’s wonderful news, Angela. I’m so happy for Ms. Jenkins.”
“She asked me to tell you that she very much wants you to keep visiting. She says, ‘You are like a daughter to her.’”
“Of course, I’ll keep visiting. Absolutely.”
Simone hung up and thought. The story had ended well for everyone. The criminals were punished. Ms. Jenkins had found peace and reconciled with her daughter, and Simone herself had found a new job, a new home, and a new meaning in life.
In February, on a weekend, Simone drove to Serenity Gardens again. Ms. Jenkins was sitting by the window as usual, but next to her was a woman in her fifties, slim and elegantly dressed. It was Candace, Ms. Jenkins’s daughter.
“Simone, meet my daughter, Candace,” Ms. Jenkins said. “Candace, this is Simone, the young woman who saved my life.”
Candace stood up and extended her hand.
“It’s a pleasure. Mom told me a lot about you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for her. I… I was a bad daughter, but you showed me what it means to be humane. I’m ashamed of my behavior, but I hope to make amends.”
Simone shook her hand.
“The important thing is that you came back. Ms. Jenkins is happy, and that’s what matters most.”
The three of them drank tea and talked. Candace spoke about her life, her husband, her children—Ms. Jenkins’s grandchildren—whom she planned to bring to meet their grandmother. The old woman listened, and happiness radiated from her eyes.
When Simone was leaving, Ms. Jenkins walked her to the exit.
“See, dear, everything worked out. My daughter came back. I’ll see my grandchildren, and it’s all thanks to you. You didn’t just save me, you saved my family. You showed Candace what true kindness is.”
“I just did what I had to do, Ms. Jenkins.”
“No, dear. You did more. You gave me a new life, and I will be grateful to you for the rest of my days.”
They hugged in farewell. Simone went out onto the street and walked toward the bus stop. Her heart felt warm and peaceful. Life went on, and it was full of meaning.
Several more months passed. Simone continued to work at Summit. Brenda Gene Holloway promoted her. She was now a senior accountant. Sierra found a boyfriend, and she and Simone discussed the possibility of Sierra moving in with him, but they decided not to rush. Everything in its time.
In May, Simone celebrated her birthday—thirty-six years old. Sierra threw a small party at the apartment, inviting colleagues and friends. Even Ms. Jenkins came with Candace. The old woman looked wonderful, happy, surrounded by attention and love. She raised a toast.
“To my dear Simone, for showing me and all of us that kindness is not dead in this world, for saving me without expecting a reward, and for the fact that kindness always comes back.”
Everyone raised their glasses, and Simone felt tears welling up in her eyes. A year ago, she was alone, lost, and didn’t know what to do with her life. Now, she was surrounded by people who loved and valued her. And it all started with a simple gesture: a few dollars dropped into an old woman’s tin cup by the MARTA station.
Kindness might not come back on the same day, but it always comes back.
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