treet in the Upper East Side. A uniformed doorman from a neighboring building gave a respectful nod. Alison stared at

antly transforming, becoming warm and affectionate. "We're here. We'll pick you

armth, that love-it was a langua

gle duffel bag. "Welcome home, Alison," he said. The w

sp, gray uniform. She was a woman in her late fifties wit

e carrying a faint Eastern European accent. Her eyes then landed on Alison, and h

dy checking her watch. "She'll be staying with us. P

t lost on Alison. She was no

" Eleanor continued, turning to leave wit

"home," Alison was left standing in the grand marble foyer with a hostile housekeepe

," Maria said,

e walls were adorned with expensive, abstract art

ngton's study," Maria explained, her voice implying

the hallway. Alison glanced inside and saw a stunning, professional-grade art studio. Canvases of all sizes were

roprietary pride in her voice. "She's a very talented a

er inherent superiority before they had even met. Alison's eyes lingered on

t less plush. Maria opened a door to a beautifully furnished room, but it lac

's single, worn duffel bag with open dis

own laundry," Ali

a thin line. "Dinner is at seven-thirty sharp. Mrs.

g the door with a

n was

sian rug. She walked to the large window, which overlooked a perfectly m

ht into a pristine cage, and everyone-from her new paren