Tess had lived her entire life in a small, dusty town out in the Midwest—the kind of place people only ever saw through a car window on their way to somewhere better.
No one really knew the town existed, which was a problem for someone as ambitious and creative as Tess. She dreamed of moving to Chicago or New York, but she had no real plan. To make matters worse, her parents were starting to panic that at twenty-four, their daughter was still single and living under their roof.
"Tess, honey, you really should give Mike another look. He's such a catch!" her mother said, hovering over the stove while delivering her daily lecture. "He's got that huge ranch, all that livestock, and a garden that could feed the whole county!"
"Mom, he has three kids already," Tess countered, sitting at the kitchen table and meticulously sorting through a bag of dried lentils, picking out the tiny stones.
"So what? A big family is a blessing. You were an only child—was that any fun for you?" her mother replied simply.
Tess sighed and went back to her work, but her mother wasn't ready to drop it.
"Fine, not Mike. But what about Greg? He's a dream! He's so handy; he can fix anything in the house. He even makes his own furniture. People from the city are going to start ordering tables and cabinets from him any day now."
"Greg's first wife ran away for a reason, Mom. I have a feeling he's not exactly a 'dream' to live with," Tess snorted.
"Hmph!" Her mother shot her a judging look. "You're too picky. Fine... what about Alex? The Sheriff's son. His dad is high up in the department, and Alex is following right in his footsteps."
"Mom, enough!" Tess set the bowl of lentils down firmly. "I'm not marrying any of your candidates. I want love, romance! What is there here? Romance around here is just a cheap beer in a hayloft and the sound of cows mooing. I don't want that life."
"Well, then what do you want?"
"I want to move to the city," Tess said dreamily. "That's where I'd actually live. There are classes there—I could learn a real skill, get a career started. There's culture, theaters, restaurants... Have you ever even been to a real restaurant, Mom?"
"Oh, please!" her mother laughed, clattering her pans. "Your father took me to that little diner in the next town once. The food made me sick for a week. No thank you. I'd rather stay home where I know who cooked the meal."
"Oh, Mom," Tess waved her off. "A diner isn't a restaurant. When I make it in the city, I'm going to take you to a five-star place."
"Just get married first, then you can move wherever you want," her mother reminded her, returning to her primary mission.
***
Nearly a year passed after that conversation. Despite the best efforts of her mother and her father's occasional meddling, Tess still hadn't found "the one."
The local girls, most of whom had at least one toddler by her age, were starting to whisper behind her back. But Tess didn't care. To be honest, she was starting to think she didn't want a family at all. A husband seemed like nothing but trouble—someone you had to coddle and wait on while you withered away at home. And kids didn't seem much easier.
***
Meanwhile, in the city, a rising star was just beginning her ascent. Lydia had been a gifted singer since she was a child, and her mother had pushed her to develop her voice at every turn. By twenty-five, Lydia was already performing on professional stages. Her producers didn't expect her to be a superstar—she wasn't the type to court scandals—but she was talented enough to have a steady career.
One person disagreed with that modest assessment: Julian, an international producer who happened to attend one of her shows.
"You are magnificent! Divine!" He grabbed Lydia's hands, his face flushed with excitement, and began kissing her knuckles. "Ah, mon chéri! I could listen to you for the rest of my life!"
"Thank you for such kind words," Lydia smiled, charmed.
"Ah!" Julian pressed his hands to his heart. "Even your speaking voice is... beyond compare! Please, mon chéri, allow me to take you to dinner after such a performance. I simply must express my... what is the word?" He frowned, searching for it, then beamed. "My gratitude."
"I'd be delighted," she replied, sending him into a fit of joy.
"I shall book a table immediately!" Julian barked an order to his assistant, who nodded and vanished.
"Your English is very good," Lydia noted.
"Yes, yes, my mother was American. She instilled in me a love for this beautiful language," he said with a thick, charming French accent that Lydia found quite endearing.
The dinner led to more meetings, which soon blossomed into a whirlwind romance—or at least, that's what Lydia thought. She loved Julian and quietly dedicated much of her music to him. Julian, in turn, showered her with compliments, gifts, and introductions to the city's elite.
Soon they moved in together, settling into a sophisticated apartment that had belonged to Julian's late mother, where he stayed whenever he was in the country.
One gloomy February morning, Lydia woke up feeling absolutely wretched. She was nauseous, shaky, and weak. And she had a rehearsal scheduled.
"What is wrong, mon chéri?" Julian watched with growing concern as Lydia stumbled while trying to pour a cup of coffee.
"I don't feel well," she managed to say, quickly pressing a hand to her mouth to fight back the urge to lose her dinner from the night before.
"Oh my God!" he cried, catching her fragile frame as her knees buckled. "We need a doctor, now! You, stay here... lie down..."
Julian eased her onto the sofa and scrambled to get dressed so he could run out for help. Cell phones weren't common yet, and the landline had been disconnected for repairs.
While he was gone, Lydia realized she was actually feeling better. The dizziness was fading. Maybe it was just low blood pressure? It made sense—the life of a performer was full of stress and nerves.
By the time Julian returned with a portly doctor in tow, Lydia was in the kitchen making coffee and toast. She had transformed from a dying waif into a glowing, cheerful woman.
"Alright, where is the patient?" the doctor asked, adjusting his glasses.
"Right... there... mon chéri, you are better?" Julian scratched his head, confused.
"Yes, I'm fine now. I think my blood pressure just dipped this morning," she smiled. "I'm so sorry for dragging you out here, Doctor. Would you like some coffee? I added a pinch of salt to bring out the flavor; I heard they do that in the Mediterranean."
"Yes, I suppose they do... but since I'm here, I should examine you. Your husband was quite frantic—he described it as if you were at death's door," the doctor chuckled, used to panicked men exaggerating their wives' ailments.
After the check-up, the doctor looked puzzled. Lydia seemed perfectly healthy.
"Listen, come see me tomorrow morning. We'll run some tests just to be sure," he said, shrugging. "Visually, you're fine."
"Thank you," Lydia smiled. "I'll be there."
She made it to her rehearsal, though she tired easily. Her mood soured, and she returned home restless. That night, she couldn't sleep; she was constantly thirsty or needing the bathroom. Getting up for another glass of water, she realized she really did need to talk to the doctor. If she had agreed to the appointment just to get him out of the house, she was now genuinely worried.
A few days after her tests, the phone rang in their living room.
"Hello?" Lydia answered.
"Hello, Lydia? This is the clinic. You were in for some blood work."
"Yes. Is everything okay? I hope it's nothing serious," she asked nervously.
"Oh, not at all!" the doctor's voice was bright. "In fact, congratulations are in order for you and your husband. You're going to be parents. You'll need to schedule a follow-up, but for now... congratulations again. Have a wonderful day!"
The line went dead, but Lydia kept the receiver pressed to her ear. Parents?
She felt a deep flush creep up her neck. The problem was, she and Julian weren't married. In her circles, and especially with her mother, that was a scandal waiting to happen. How would she tell her mother? How would she tell Julian? What was she supposed to do now?
Julian walked in and found her standing there, the phone to her ear, her face turning from white to beet red.
"Did something happen, mon chéri?" he asked.
She jumped, startled, and hung up the phone.
"Well... yes, something happened," she sighed, pressing a hand to her burning cheek.
"Tell me! Who was on the phone?" Julian pressed.
"The doctor... It turns out I'm pregnant," she whispered.
Julian stared at her for a few seconds, stunned.
"You mean... we are having a child?" he clarified. When she nodded, his face lit up. "This is magnificent! We shall be a real family, mon chéri! I adore you!"
He was ecstatic, kissing her and thanking God in French for such a gift. Lydia, however, was thinking of several things at once. First, she hadn't planned on being a mother anytime soon. Her career was just taking off—what would she do with a baby? She'd be stuck at home, buried in laundry and cooking. What about the stage? It felt like the end of her dreams. Second, there was the matter of marriage. She could imagine the headlines: a famous singer having a child out of wedlock. People knew about Julian, but a baby changed everything.
"You look troubled, mon chéri," Julian said as his excitement leveled off.
"I think... we should probably get married. To stop the rumors before they start," Lydia said, the words feeling heavy in her mouth.
"Ah, yes, your traditional sensibilities..." Julian smiled. "In my heart, you are already my wife. If the papers matter to you, let us go right now!"
"Well, that's sweet," Lydia laughed weakly. "But we usually do weddings with a bit more... planning. And I don't have much time before I stop fitting into my dresses."
"I will give you whatever you want," he promised.
And he did.
In less than two months, Julian organized a celebration that was legendary for its time. A live orchestra, a feast prepared by the best chefs—the guests were stunned he'd pulled it off so quickly.
The wedding was perfect. Soon, Lydia had to switch to loose-fitting clothes, and eventually, she stepped away from the stage for a few months.
She gave birth to a son, whom they named Alexander. As soon as she felt physically able, Lydia went straight back to work. She didn't feel a strong bond with little Alex; perhaps she just wasn't ready to be a parent. Julian, too, grew bored with the baby, and then with his slightly tired wife who was never home.
One evening, he sat Lydia down.
"Lydia, do you not feel that the passion has left our lives since the baby arrived?" he asked.
"What did you expect, Julian?" Lydia said, gently wiping Alex's cheeks after he'd made a mess of his porridge.
"But we have nannies. Why have we grown so cold?"
"I don't know. Maybe we just need time," she replied. In truth, she was over Julian. He talked a big game but did very little.
"I hear in your voice that time will not help," Julian sighed. "It is sad, but I feel it too. Lydia, I want to do this the right way. I have bought a three-bedroom apartment for you and Alex. Here are the deeds, in your name." He pushed a folder toward her. "Please, accept this. And of course, I will help you financially if you need it."
"And what about you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"I cannot live like this," he shook his head. "I need fire, passion... I thought a child would complete us, but... it did not."
"No, it didn't," she agreed.
"Then next week, I return to Paris... Au revoir, mon cher," he sighed.
"Goodbye," she replied.
After Julian left the country, Lydia and Alex moved into the apartment. It was large, but it was a shell. Lydia had to do everything herself—wallpapering, hanging curtains, buying carpets and furniture because the place was full of junk. She poured a fortune into it. She had to get back to her career. But then, she hit the very wall she had feared.
Alex was demanding. Her mother was getting too old to handle a toddler full-time and was still bitter about the divorce. Nannies were expensive, and singing wasn't paying what it used to. Exhausted, Lydia decided she needed a live-in helper on terms she could actually afford. She called her mother to vent.
"Oh, Lydia... I told you not to let a man like that slip away," her mother tsked.
"Mom, we weren't right for each other," Lydia repeated for the hundredth time. "Just help me. I have a tour coming up, and I have no idea what to do with Alex."
"Well, I can help in a pinch, but I actually have an idea," her mother said thoughtfully.
"What?"
"You remember Aunt Sarah?"
"Your cousin?" Lydia asked uncertainly.
"Yes. She has a daughter, Tess. About your age."
"Okay..." Lydia didn't see where this was going.
"Use your head, Lydia! Invite her to be a nanny. You won't have to pay her much because Sarah says Tess is dying to get to the city. She can get her foot in the door, as long as she looks after the boy."
"What about her family? Her husband, kids?" Lydia liked the sound of it.
"She doesn't have anyone. Sarah says she won't marry anyone in that town. You're both stubborn, independent women. You'll get along fine."
"Mom, give me her address," Lydia said, sitting up straighter.
The next day, Lydia drove out to the country. Her theater company had provided a car and driver, so she didn't have to worry about the train.
When she arrived, she saw a sturdy, well-kept farmhouse. A plump woman came out of the gate, beaming.
"Lydia! Look at you!" she smiled.
"Hi, Aunt Sarah," Lydia replied, hugging her.
"What brings you all the way out here? Come in, come in! I saw you from the window. Oh! Who's this little guy?" Sarah spotted Alex in the car.
"This is my son," Lydia said. "Actually, he's why I'm here. You have a daughter, Tess, right?"
"I do, but she's out in the fields right now, trying to finish the harvest before winter hits."
"Well, I can talk to you then. I'm divorced, and my work makes it impossible to watch the baby. I'm looking for a live-in nanny. My mother mentioned Tess wants to move to the city. I can give her a room in my apartment, and she can help me with Alex. I'll pay her a salary, of course," Lydia laid it all out. She didn't believe in beating around the bush.
"Oh my... that's a lot to take in," Sarah said, but Lydia saw a spark of concern in her eyes. Her own flesh and blood moving away to watch someone else's child? But then again, Tess refused every man in town. Maybe she'd find someone in the city?
"Just think about it," Lydia said, handing her a slip of paper. "This is my address and number. If Tess decides to come, I'll meet her at the station and take her home. But I have to get back; I have a tour to prep for."
"Well... alright..." Sarah turned the paper over in her hands as Lydia climbed back into the car.
A few days later, the phone rang. Lydia was on her way out, but she doubled back. She was desperate for Tess to say yes; prepping for a tour with Alex underfoot was becoming a nightmare.
"Hello?" Lydia answered.
"Lydia?" a hesitant voice asked.
"Yes?"
"It's Tess, Sarah's daughter... Um, you said to call if I changed my mind... I'm actually already in the city. I'm calling from the bus station," Tess said shyly.
"Oh! Well, that's great. I'm glad you're here. Stay right there; I'll come get you. Stay near the information desk so I don't miss you."
"Okay," Tess said, sounding relieved.
On one hand, Lydia was thrilled. On the other, she wished Tess had called before hopping on the bus. Lydia was an artist; her time was scheduled down to the minute!
Now she had to pick her up at noon. Sighing, Lydia called her manager to say she'd be late. She hoped he'd cancel the rehearsal, but he just told her to hurry up. Lydia was exhausted. When she got to the station, she found her cousin easily. Tess looked great: healthy, strong, and only a little pale from the shock of the big city. They introduced themselves, and Lydia drove her home, showed her the room, and introduced her to Alex. There was no time for small talk. Lydia grabbed her purse and left some cash on the table.
"Tess, this is for groceries. You must be hungry. There's a store on the corner. I'm sorry, but I don't really cook, so the fridge is empty," Lydia smiled.
"Oh, don't worry about that, I brought some stuff from home..." Tess started reaching for her bags. "You want some?"
"Te—" Lydia started, glancing at a suspicious, grease-stained paper parcel.
"Tess, I'd love to, but I have to run," Lydia said. "Keys are on the counter. Make yourself at home. See you tonight!"
"Have a good day!" Tess waved.
She was five years younger than Lydia, but she treated her with real respect. While Lydia was at rehearsal, Tess cleaned the apartment, cooked dinner, bathed Alex, read him a story, and played games with him.
When Lydia returned at eleven, she was drained and miserable. She had actually forgotten Tess was even there. She expected to walk into a mess—toys everywhere and a crying toddler. Instead, she gasped. The place was spotless, it was quiet, and the kitchen smelled like heaven.
"Lydia, hi," Tess walked out. "How was your day?"
"I... I think it just got a lot better," Lydia admitted.
"Good! You must be starving. Do you have time now? Let's eat," Tess beamed.
"I... I won't say no. I'm just surprised. Why is it so quiet?"
"I wasn't sure when you put Alex down, but I figured 10:00 or 10:30 was about right. He's been out for forty minutes."
"Oh..." Lydia whispered. She peeked into the nursery and saw Alex, clean and sleeping soundly. "Oh!" she whispered again. In the kitchen, the table was covered: roast beef, rolls, homemade dumplings, potatoes, slaw... Tess had gone way overboard.
"I don't know how many times I can say 'wow' in one night," Lydia laughed. "Tess, you're a godsend!"
"Oh, it's nothing," Tess shrugged.
"Did you make all this? How? Where did it come from?"
"I bought some things, like you said, and my mom packed a cooler for me. This is our home-cured ham."
"Tess, you're priceless," Lydia said, inhaling the scent of the ham.
The three of them—Lydia, Tess, and Alex—lived together for twelve years. A lot happened in that time. Eventually, Lydia's star faded. Her style of music went out of fashion, and she had to take a job teaching voice lessons.
Money got tight. Really tight. At one point, paychecks stopped coming altogether. The family was nearly starving. It was so bad that Lydia had to call Julian, her ex-husband. He had left her his contact info years ago. She dialed the number, her face hot with shame. A familiar voice answered.
"It's Lydia," she said, her voice trembling. "The singer from the city. Do you remember me?"
"Yes, of course," Julian said. "How are you?"
"To be honest, not well. I lost my job, and I'm teaching now, but the money isn't coming in. Alex is growing so fast, he needs food, clothes... Could you... could you help us?" she asked, tears in her eyes. She was a mother; she couldn't let her son go hungry.
"Oh, I am so sorry to hear that," Julian said. "But listen, I am in another country. How can I help? Besides, you divorced me..."
"But you could come here! And so what if we're divorced? The child is still yours. I never went to court for child support because you said you'd take care of us!"
"Hmm, I don't recall saying that," Julian replied. Lydia's jaw dropped. "Well, if that is all... Au revoir."
"Julian! We're starving!" she cried.
"I don't know, figure something out. Sell that apartment I gave you, buy a smaller one. It is just you and the boy anyway. I have to go. Au revoir," he repeated and hung up.
Thankfully, Lydia managed to pick up some private tutoring, and they didn't have to move. The country was changing, too—the old ways were giving way to a new era. Alex grew into a bright, obedient boy. Tess had gone to night school for accounting and now had a steady job. They weren't rich, but they were getting by.
Then, out of nowhere, Julian reappeared. He showed up like a ghost from the past, knocking on the door one afternoon. Lydia felt nothing but cold indifference toward him. He hadn't called or checked in once in over a decade.
Lydia pulled him into the kitchen to talk. Alex was at school, and Tess was in her room.
"Listen, Lydia," Julian said, sipping tea and eating the cookies Tess had baked. "I have several businesses now, and I met a woman. A beautiful woman. Not like you, of course, but still. We had a child. I was a happy family man for a while, but then I got suspicious. With modern DNA testing, it's quite simple now. As it turns out, I was wasting my time—the boy wasn't mine. I'm fifty-seven now, I could still be a father, but I've seen enough of that drama. So, I am here to offer Alex a chance. He can come to France with me. I'll show him everything, teach him the business, make him my heir... you understand?"
"So you ignored your son for twelve years, and now you want to just take him?" Lydia laughed. "I don't even know what to say to you."
"Yes, we had... communication issues. And I didn't send money, but you were a singer! Surely you had enough for a child?"
"Actually, there was a time we nearly starved," Lydia reminded him coldly. "But you didn't call. You didn't write. No... instead, you told me to 'figure it out' when I begged you for help."
"And I trust you did a marvelous job," Julian nodded, checking his watch. "Look, Lydia, I don't have time to sit around. I fly back tomorrow morning. Talk to Alex. See if he wants a real life."
Lydia wanted to throw the teapot at him, but she held back. She told Alex everything—how his father hadn't even helped with grocery money when they were desperate, and now he wanted to take Alex away to show him "the high life" and leave him a business. At fourteen, Alex was a serious kid.
"If I go, will we still talk?" he asked his mom.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "Unless your father decides otherwise."
"Hmm. Will I finish school there?"
"I assume so."
"But I don't speak French."
"I'm sure your father will handle it, though I wouldn't bet on it."
"Has he done anything good for you in the last ten years?" the boy asked.
Lydia just shook her head, remembering the humiliation of that last phone call.
"Then let him come over. I'll tell him myself."
The next morning, Julian arrived expecting to see Alex with his bags packed. He was surprised when no one ran to hug him. Instead, he was met at the door by two women and a teenage boy.
"Alex?" Julian said. "You are not ready?"
"First of all, nice to meet you, Dad," the boy said bluntly. "Second, I'm not going anywhere. You're leaving alone. I hope you spend the rest of your life alone, too."
"Why? Who taught you to be so rude?" Julian cried. "Do you know how you could live? In luxury!"
"You taught me," the boy narrowed his eyes. "You talk about 'luxury,' but what do you know about my life? I know Mom called you for help and you said you didn't have time. I know Aunt Tess had to scrape the bottom of the flour bin to make us soup. I know Mom and Aunt Tess skipped meals to buy me a suit for school! Do you know any of that? No. You don't know anything about me. I'd rather live here with Mom and Aunt Tess than become someone as cold as you. To be honest, I don't even think of you as my father. I've never even met you before."
"But... but..." Julian was speechless.
"You should go, Julian, or you'll miss your flight," Lydia smiled. "Alex has made his choice."
"You'll regret this," Julian sighed. "You could have had everything."
He waved a hand and walked away.
Lydia never heard from him again, and she didn't care. She passed away years later, peacefully in her sleep. Tess and the grown-up Alexander organized the funeral. Afterward, they sat together looking through old photos.
"I should probably start looking for my own place," Tess said.
"What are you talking about?" Alex asked.
"Well, I was here to help your mom. Now there's no one left to help," Tess sighed. "I never got a place of my own, so I'll head back to the farmhouse. My parents left it to me."
"Tess, stop talking nonsense," Alex said. "Mom loved you like a sister. We talked about this a long time ago. She left this apartment to you. Don't even think about leaving. Besides, my wife is pregnant. We're going to need your help."
He gave her a small smile, and Tess just stared at him. A three-bedroom apartment in the city? Left to her? By Lydia, who was technically a distant cousin but really her best friend. Tess was about to say something when the doorbell rang.
"Who on earth is that..." Alex went to the door. A moment later, he shouted in disbelief: "You?"
"Who is it?" Tess walked into the hall and saw a much older Julian.
"Good afternoon," he sighed. "I tried calling, but no one answered. Can I speak with Lydia?"
"No, you can't," Alex said. "She died three days ago."
"Died?" Julian's eyes went wide. But his shock quickly turned back into his old business-like tone. "Well, then I must speak with you, son. My businesses have failed, and I have to go to Canada to see a friend and try to rebuild my connections. I need money. Since Lydia is gone, I need you to come to the lawyer with me and sign this apartment back over to me. I need to sell it."
"Wow," Alex laughed, despite the somber day. "You've got some nerve. No. First of all, it's not mine to give. Second, you're a stranger to us. You never helped us; why would we help you?"
"Wait... not yours? Then whose is it?" Julian asked, ignoring everything else.
"It's Tess's," Alex pointed to the woman standing in the doorway.
"What? The help? Lydia left the apartment to the help?!" Julian exploded.
"Watch your mouth..." Alex began, but Tess cut him off.
"I'm not 'the help.' I never was. I helped Lydia because we were friends, and I did it because I wanted to. She chose to thank me. Her legal heir, Alex, is perfectly fine with it. I might have considered helping you—I don't need all this space to myself—but since I'm just 'the help'... why should I bother with a 'master' like you?" Tess smiled.
"Wait a minute, mon chéri, I didn't know the whole story!" Julian's tone shifted instantly.
"Goodbye, Julian," Tess said firmly. "Or I'll call the police. And maybe the tax authorities while I'm at it."
Julian spat out a few curses but retreated quickly. He never bothered them again. Tess eventually sold the big apartment and bought a smaller one, using the leftover money to help Alex with a summer house where they could all gather: Tess, Alex, his wife Sarah, and their little girl, Lily.
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