by Lynne Norris
“I can handle myself,” Emma said trying to tamp down the sense of irritation she felt at being dismissed so easily. “Can I speak to whoever’s in charge?”
“Well now, that would be Ed. He’s in the back doing inventory,” James said and went back to wiping tables.
“Can I just walk back?”
“Well how else are you going to get back there?”
Her sneakers squeaked with each step over the black and white linoleum tile floor. Down the narrow corridor, yellow light spilled out into the hall from a doorway and she heard someone opening boxes.
Emma tapped on the frame of the door. “Excuse me.”
A white haired man with a ruddy complexion straightened up from the box he was unloading. “How’d you get in here?”
“Mr. Whitley said I could come back and talk to you.”
“We don’t have any paying jobs here.”
“I know. I’d like to volunteer,” Emma said.
“Volunteer? Why?”
Why, she thought. Good question. Because I need something to do or I’m going to lose my mind. Grace comes here and maybe I’ll get a chance to see her. Surely, lurking at the farmer’s market is just weird. She settled on, “I’m in between jobs. I wanted to be able to do something that matters.”
This seemed to interest him and he asked, “What kind of work were you doing?”
“I was in finance.”
He nodded slowly, a serious expression crossing his features. “I suppose you got laid off.”
Shame slithered through her and she said, “I was.”
“Sorry that happened. You seem like a nice kid. Those bastards on Wall Street deserve to get knocked down more than a few pegs. They get rich and the rest of us barely scrape by.”
Emma flushed knowing she fell squarely into the category of people he described. She’d enjoyed the perks of her job for many years never thinking of the consequences outside the hallowed buildings she worked in.
“We need someone to help serve the mid-day meal, but there’s some rules you need to know.”
“Okay.” She didn’t know if this meant he was offering her the job or not.
Ed wiped his hands off on a dishtowel that was hanging from one of the racks. “Everyone gets served the same amount. There’s no seconds. They’ll be watching to see what you put on each plate. Don’t let them touch you.” He looked straight into her eyes. “And I don’t just say that to the women.”
He walked out of the storeroom towards the front of the soup kitchen and stopped at the window, staring out across the street. “Now I remember. I thought you looked familiar. You were at the Moretti’s cookout a couple weeks back.”
“Yes. Grace and I went to high school together.”
“Is that your car parked out there?” He jutted his chin at the silver BMW parked across the street.
“Yes,” she said self-consciously and the emotion made her feel bad. She’d worked hard to buy that car. She saved and bought it as a gift to herself after her second year with the brokerage. It was one the last possessions she was holding onto from her former life.
“Do yourself a favor and don’t invite trouble by bringing it here again. Walk or take public transportation. The bus lets off at the corner two blocks down to the east. Do not bring that car here again.”
“This area doesn’t look so bad,” Emma said peering out the window.
“Sweetheart, looks are deceiving. To you it may be just a car, but for someone down on their luck it’s a reminder of everything they lost or never had. If you’re still interested in volunteering fill out an application. They’re online. Come back tomorrow at eight. You can help serve the mid-day meal. We’ll see how you get on with the rest of the staff and our guests.”
THE NEXT DAY Emma walked the three miles into town. She dressed casually and carried an umbrella since the weather report called for rain later in the day. A block from the converted warehouse Emma spotted a line of people snaking along the street for as far as her eyes could see. As promised, Ed met her at the back door at eight o’clock sharp and let her in.
“You figured out the bus schedule,” Ed said closing and locking the door behind him.
“I walked,” Emma said secretly proud at the surprised look in his eyes.
“It’s going to be a busy service. James handed out over two hundred tickets this morning.”
“When did they start lining up?” Emma asked glancing toward the glass doors at the front of the building where shadowy figures stood just beyond them.
“Some of them are here before the sun comes up. Let’s get you set up so you know what to do,” Ed said.
Her job going forward was to help set up the dining room with everything people would need to eat and help serve. Ed assigned her to handing out rolls from a basket using tongs. A far cry from handling multi-million dollar accounts but still it was something. Next to her station a woman with brassy red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, faded jeans and pink sandals on her feet uncovered a pan of steaming vegetables.
“Well, ain’t it a small world,” the woman said when she noticed Emma. It was green eyes from the Moretti’s.
“Isn’t it,” Emma replied.
“Paula, if you don’t remember,” she said.
“Of course,” and Emma immediately remembered Paula’s possessive attitude toward Grace. Suddenly the quaint small town feeling wasn’t so quaint anymore and Emma felt as if she’d been placed under a microscope.
“Well, get ready. Here comes the crowd now,” Paula announced as the doors were unlocked and a line of people immediately filed into the dining hall. They tugged rolling suitcases, many carried a duffel bag or two. One woman wore a Disney backpack. “I’ll tell you who you need to look out for,” Paula said.
Young and old, women with children, shuffled through the doors and made a line to be served food. Some of the younger adults urged an elderly couple to go ahead of them.
“Charlie and Ruth have been coming here for a couple of years,” Paula leaned closer and whispered harshly in Emma’s ear. “He worked in construction and she raised their kids. I imagine they never expected to end up here after working all their lives.” Her face brightened when they got to her station. “Hi Ruth. Hi Charlie. How are you today?”
“Doing fine, Paula,” Charlie said and guided Ruth, who looked frail and unsteady, along by her elbow. She limped when she walked and Emma was afraid she would fall if someone bumped into her.
Emma smiled politely and gave them each a roll. The line continued to move along. Every now and then Paula would lean over and fill Emma in on someone further down the line that she deemed interesting or peculiar enough to share information about. It seemed Paula knew a little bit about everyone and it was obvious she kept the information she found out neatly tucked away. The number of guests arriving ebbed and flowed and two hours passed quickly.
“Now there’s one to look out for.” Paula announced leaning closer. “That fella in the blue jeans that look like they’re about to fall off his scrawny ass is a character.”
Emma immediately recognized Robert with his scraggly beard and disheveled clothes. She wondered if he would recognize her. By the blank expression in his eyes it was obvious that he didn’t. Stale smoke permeated his clothes and she wondered when he last took a shower. A combination of relief and sadness swept through her when he passed by.
Paula waited until he was out of earshot. She dropped her voice and said, “He’s schizophrenic you know.”
“No I don’t and frankly it’s none of my business. How do you know that’s even true?” Emma asked remembering what Grace had told her that day in the parking lot.
“I have my sources,” Paula said.
Irritated now, Emma said, “Sources or not that’s not your business to be sharing.”
Paula didn’t miss a beat and said, “Everyone knows he’s crazy like in that movie—One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I love Jack Nicholson. Besides,
wouldn’t you like to know who to look out for seeing as you’re new here?”
Emma conceded the point. “Yes. I just don’t need to know all the details.”
“Suit yourself,” Paula said obviously miffed that her professional talents at gossiping were not fully appreciated. It didn’t take long for Paula to recover and start anew as the line of people advanced.
“I haven’t seen you around town before. Did you just move here?”
“No,” Emma said.
“Whereabouts?”
“I live about three miles from here in a little cottage,” Emma said, pleased with herself that she skirted around exactly where she lived.
“What did you do before you came here?”
“I worked in New York.”
“Ooh the city that never sleeps. What brings a city girl like you to our little hamlet?” Paula’s tone was conversational, but Emma sensed something lurking beneath the surface.
“I wanted a change. A fresh start.”
“This is a pretty dramatic change. What on earth brought you here?” Paula asked.
“I grew up in this town,” Emma said.
“Are you married?” Paula’s volleys continued.
“No. Call it separated—permanently.”
“Ah well, it happens to the best of us. How do you know Grace?”
“I went to high school with the Moretti’s.”
“Oh, so you know Michael, Grace and Tony,” Paula said their names with a familiarity of someone who seemed to know them well.
Emma sensed something in Paula’s voice, an edge of jealousy, she thought. “Grace and I were in the same grade together, but we hardly knew each other then.”
“Oh, and what would you say you are now?” Paula asked her face set and eyes flat as she studied Emma.
Emma served the last few guests, waited for them to pass by and turned to Paula. “We’re friends.” Emma untied her apron and started to clean up around her station.
“I saw you at the party Saturday night. I was standing on the porch when you and Grace walked back to the house,” Paula said.
“She was showing me around.”
“You and Grace looked cozy dancing together. Getting reacquainted?” and her voice oozed condescension.
Emma felt heat as her ears flushed red. She didn’t remember seeing Paula later in the evening, but obviously she’d been there. “There’s no law against having fun together.”
“Maybe not but just remember I had eyes on her first.”
“Excuse me?” Emma almost laughed until she saw the dead serious look in Paula’s eyes.
“I saw her first.”
Temper flared up inside and Emma’s voice turned icy. “Maybe it’s more a matter of who Grace sees.”
With a defiant look in her eyes, Paula edged away and moistened her lips several times. “We’ll see about who she has eyes for.”
“If there’s a point to this conversation other than you mining for information why don’t you get to it?”
“Go ahead and make your play. I’ll wager that you’re nothing but a distant memory for her in a few months.”
Paula sauntered away leaving Emma to stare after her in disbelief. I had eyes on her first, echoed in her mind. Emma had no idea what to think and a painful mixture of confusion and fear swirled inside.
“Did you and Paula get acquainted?”
Emma opened her mouth to say something nasty then thought better of it. “She was filling me in on the guests.”
Ed glanced over at Paula who was busy chatting with one of the other workers. “Don’t pay her too much mind. Her bark is worse than her bite.”
“Good to know,” Emma said wondering if he overheard any of their conversation.
“How did the service go?”
Emma blinked and looked over her shoulder at Ed. “It was fine.”
“If you’re interested the job is yours. Strictly volunteer.” Did she really want to subject herself to dealing with Paula on a regular basis? “I understand. How many days a week?”
“Three if you’re able to.”
“You have a deal.”
Chapter Fourteen
EMMA WALKED HOME in a slow steady drizzle. She strolled up the hill watching the fog roll and swirl among the trees. The street was virtually empty of pedestrians, save an older woman bent forward at the waist pulling a two-wheeled cart half filled with shopping bags. She was dressed in a black rain slicker, her hair covered with a clear plastic rain hat. It reminded Emma of the one her grandmother used to wear. Emma guessed everyone else was hunkered down at home or busy at work.
The fog made the landscape look blurred—surreal almost. The leaves dangled from their branches heavy with moisture. Sporadically a gust of wind would buffet them sending showers of droplets to the ground making the gentle rain sound like a sudden downpour.
Every few minutes, a car driving past interrupted the peaceful quiet surrounding her. The high-pitched sound of tires rolling over wet pavement and the smell of exhaust seemed to disturb even the animals. Industrious squirrels darted and leapt onto the trunks of nearby trees, chattering indignantly at the interruption. A pair of morning doves flew into the air their wings making a sharp whistling noise as they took flight. Emma watched the fog, displaced by the air currents swirl in the wake of the car and slowly settle down in a soothing blanket that blurred the landscape.
Her footsteps were the only thing she heard aside from the steady patter of rain on her umbrella. She walked carefully, avoiding the cracks and upheaved chunks of sidewalk dislodged by the roots of trees growing beneath the concrete.
As Emma made her way through town she mulled over Paula’s warning. She had no idea what the future held for her or Grace. She really hadn’t been looking for anything and suddenly Grace seemed to be there like a magnet pulling her in.
Emma felt a little crazy. Inside her chest her heart thumped wildly. It seemed every time she turned around her mind hijacked her thoughts to Grace. Where she was, what she might be doing. Emma imagined what it would be like to touch her, to feel Grace’s hands on her. She wanted to touch Grace so badly it hurt.
Still feeling the prickle of anger towards Paula, Emma was surprised by the sound of an engine rumbling slowly behind her.
The truck slowed down enough to roll along at her pace and the passenger side window slid down. She had a quick retort ready on her tongue.
“Emma.” Grace leaned over and called out.
Emma stopped and said, “I didn’t recognize the truck without the squealing noise.”
A smile crept across Grace’s face and Emma swore she saw her blush. “I fixed the fan belt yesterday. Do you want a ride?”
The uncertainty Emma felt seemed to evaporate when Grace smiled and Emma realized it was meant only for her. Grace’s smile warmed Emma in ways she probably didn’t intend. In fact the curve of Grace’s mouth set Emma’s brain down a road that was dangerous. Grace’s dark red lips were smooth. Her lower lip was full and sensuous. Emma wanted to lick and suck those very kissable lips as much as she wanted to feel them on her. Lord, I am in serious trouble, Emma thought.
“Sure,” Emma said. “Where are you going?”
“I’m heading back to the farm, but I can drop you off at the lake. What are you doing out in this weather anyway?”
“I volunteered at the soup kitchen today.” Emma climbed up into the cab and pulled the door closed. “I thought it was a better idea to walk than to drive there with my car.” Dressed in cargo shorts and work boots, Grace’s toned thighs flexed as she worked the gas pedal and Emma restrained herself from reaching over and stroking the smooth skin.
“Probably a good idea, but I don’t know if I like the idea of you walking all this way by yourself.” Emma bristled. “I managed walking the streets of New York for fifteen years alone. I think I can handle myself here.” Grace was quiet for a moment then said, “I wasn’t implying
that you couldn’t take care of yourself.”
�
��I’m not helpless you know.”
“I know you’re not, but I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Sorry,” Emma said fighting the urge not to hunker down in her seat and fold her arms like a petulant child. “I’m being bitchy.”
“Why?”
Emma stared out the window avoiding Grace’s gaze. “People tell you things sometimes and you don’t know what to believe— what their motivations are for saying it in the first place.”
“What’s your gut telling you?”
Emma turned back and gazed into innocent blue eyes. “I don’t know yet. How’s Max?”
“On the mend,” Grace said and then turned to Emma. “Listen, I’m sorry if what I did Saturday night upset you.”
Emma met Grace’s inscrutable gaze. “I’m not upset with you. It’s...our lives are very different.”
“I guess they are.” Grace checked her mirror and pulled away from the curb. “Have you volunteered at a soup kitchen before?”
“No, this is the first time.”
“What did you think?”
“Different. Sad and a little surprising.” Emma stayed silent about Paula because she had no idea what the woman’s game was or what history with Grace she was talking about.
“How so?”
“There are people you’d see on the street and never suspect they go to a soup kitchen to eat.”
“Will you go back?” Grace asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.
“I’m going to volunteer there a few days a week.”
“You must have liked something about it then.”
“I miss having something to do that matters,” Emma said. “If I can make someone’s day a little better, bring some joy, then I’ve accomplished that one thing.”
“I was going to stop by later today to see you,” Grace told her.
“Why?” Emma asked surprised and felt her heart pumping faster in her chest.
“When I was organizing one side of the garage earlier today I found some scraps of drywall. If you’d like I could measure the holes and cut the drywall to fit it. It wouldn’t take long to do.”
“That would be wonderful,” Emma said, relieved because she had no idea when or how she was going to fix the damage herself.