Sydney stifled a groan. Her license was in her bag, in the car. "I actually don't have my license on me."
"We have strict rules here. Mostly for the people who stay but also for the volunteers. Every thing has to be by the book," Jess said with an apologetic smile. "Sorry."
"Right. I'll be back in a minute." Sydney's heels clicked against the cream tiles as she went back outside, the cold meeting her as soon as she opened the door. She crossed the street, wondering if she should have found somewhere else to leave her car. Would it even be safe here?
Sydney unlocked her car and found her license, leaving every thing else where it was. Her breath hung in the air in a white cloud before evaporating into the night air as she went back inside. She unbuttoned her coat as she returned to the office and handed Jess her license.
"Thanks." Jess double checked all the info and handed it back to her along with another form that outlined her role as a volunteer and gave her a list of dos and don'ts.
Sydney took a seat across from Jess's desk and read over the document. It all looked straight forward. She used the pen Jess had left out for her and signed her name.
"Alright," Jess said as she filed away the paper. "You're all set. I'll give you a really brief tour." She glanced down at her watch. "We're getting ready to serve dinner in about ten minutes, and that can get a bit hectic. Especially on a night like tonight when we're expecting snow. You can leave your coat in the volunteer's room. I'll take you there first."
Sydney followed her down the hall, and the first door on their right was marked Volunteer's Lounge. An old sofa was against the far wall with lockers covering most of the wall to their right.
"You can hang up your coat in one of the lockers," Jess said as they went inside. "The shelves on the left are full of extra supplies for anyone staying. We have another store room, but this is where we keep some of the essentials for easy access. So, if someone's looking for another bottle of shampoo or a toothbrush, this is where you'll find it. There's tea and coffee that you can help yourself to."
A well-worn wooden table sat against the wall, beside the fridge, with a kettle plugged in and a few jars of tea bags and instant coffee next to it. She would definitely not be having either of those here. Sydney loved her coffee and had a favorite spot in town where she went during the day. They supplied the beans for her coffee machine at home too. It was easily the nicest blend she'd had in this country. Italian coffee in Italy was a whole other experience.
"Let's move on to the dorms," Jess said, leading them into another room. "Women are in here and men are in this one." Sydney peaked into the open rooms that were bustling with people of all ages. She didn't count, but she guessed there were at least eight maybe ten cots in each room with very little space between them. It looked like a prison.
"The bathroom facilities and showers are further down the hall, but let's get you into the kitchen now," Jess said, waving for her to follow.
The kitchen? Would she have to cook?
Sydney pushed up the sleeves on her light gray cashmere sweater. No one had said anything about cooking.
"Dinner is always our busiest time. We're feeding the people who are staying the night, but also the ones we don't have room for. They line up as well, and we feed as many of them as we can."
"Not everyone gets dinner?" Sydney asked as Jess held open one of the double doors that led into the kitchen.
"No. Unfortunately not. The homelessness problem has gotten out of hand. You don't need to spend time here to know that. I'm sure you see it when you're walking around the city. It's hard to find a street that doesn't have someone huddled up in a sleeping bag or parking lot without a tent pitched in it over night."
Sydney just nodded, but she didn't remember seeing anyone when she'd shown her latest client three apartments today. She hadn't been walking though. Her driver had brought them to each building. That was probably why she hadn't noticed.
"So, I'll leave you to it," Jess said, handing her a sky blue apron.
"Thanks." Sydney secured it around her, giving the volunteers a nod as they went about getting ready, carrying steaming trays of food towards the serving counter.
Chapter Two
Ally Coleman tossed her backpack into one of the free lockers and combed her blond hair back into a pony tail, securing it with the black band on her wrist. She hated being late.
"Hey," Jess said from the doorway.
"Sorry I'm late. Work was crazy again." She blew a few loose strands of hair away from her eyes.
"They really need to hire more hair dressers or stop booking you for appointments every thirty minutes. It's nuts."
"I know," Ally said, taking a quick drink from her water bottle and shoving it back in her bag. "I'm ready to go though. I'm sure it's busy tonight."
"As always. Oh, we've got a fresh one."
"That's good."
"Well," Jess said with a sigh. "She's one of those... You know how much I hate labeling people, but this woman… She didn't have her ID with her when she was signing in, and I can tell you exactly why."
"Ugh. Don't tell me. She left her purse in the car, because she thought it would get stolen if she brought it in with her."
"You know it." Jess rolled her eyes. "She's dressed for the boardroom too. Her heels probably cost more than my car. I don't know what her story is. Either, she's venturing into this side of town for a gawk, or she's doing community service. I honestly don't get any sort of genuine vibe off her, but we need all the help we can get. Hopefully she's not difficult to work with."
"It could open her eyes. Being here. Seeing what the people who come here are really like."
"I hope so."
"Alright," Ally said, giving her friend and house mate a reassuring smile. "I better get out there."
Ally left the lounge and breezed into the kitchen, grabbing an apron from the closet beside the door and tying it on. Her eyes instantly fell on the newcomer that Jess had mentioned. Her espresso brown hair fell a few inches below her shoulders in layers. The apron she was wearing stopped mid thigh, right where her black pencil skirt finished. Ally's eyes moved lower, over her toned calves and to the black heels that had to be three or four inches high, something Ally could never manage to walk in. Not that she'd ever put herself through that kind of torture.
Ally took her place beside the new volunteer, saying a quick hello to the other familiar faces she worked with on a daily basis. "Hi. I'm Ally."
The woman added a scoop of potatoes to the paper plate she was holding and passed it along to Ally so she could add the vegetables. "Sydney."
Ally handed the full plate of food to the next person waiting in line who smiled, and Ally met the familiar blue eyes of a woman who looked like she was in her early twenties. She came in at least three times a week, in the same well worn jean jacket that wasn't going to be warm enough for the winter, and Ally couldn't help wondering where she was sleeping on the other nights. Ally smiled back at her as she went over to one of the long tables to eat her meal.
She tried not to let Sydney's attitude get to her. Jess had her figured out. Ally could see it too. There was a certain type of person who occasionally volunteered, the type that thought that all homeless people were either dangerous, lazy, drug addicts, alcoholics, or all of the above. Ally rarely jumped to conclusions, but she couldn't stand people who thought like that.
Ally gave the woman beside another once over. No jewelry. Expensive looking clothes. Her perfume drifted into Ally's space and even that smelled luxurious.
She didn't have a problem with people who had money. She just hated to see homeless people discriminated against and judged by people who thought they were better than them. Ally knew why she got so worked up about it. It was because she had been on the other side of this table.
It was hard to believe that twelve years ago she'd discovered this place, and it had saved her life. She'd been eighteen and sleeping on a friend's couch for a couple of weeks, but she knew she had to mo
ve on. After a few nights on the streets, she found this shelter, and it had been her home on and off for two years, until she could get back on her feet again.
Ally had her life together now, but she'd never forget what it was like to wander the streets, searching for a safe place to get a few hours sleep. She knew what people had thought of her. She’d heard their mutterings as they walked by. Drugs. Drunk. Filthy. She'd heard it all over those two years, and although Sydney hadn't said anything, Ally could sense that same feeling from her. That she looked down on all those people who were lined up in front of them.
Ally glanced over at her again. Maybe it was the way Sydney's lips were pursed, almost in a frown. Maybe it was the way she avoided eye contact with the people waiting for their food. Maybe it was the way she stood so rigidly, while the rest of the volunteers interacted with the people of all ages and backgrounds who patiently waited their turn. Sydney never opened her mouth or offered a smile.
Ally slid a spare black hair tie off her wrist. "Here," she said, holding it out for Sydney to take. "You should really tie your hair back."
Sydney stared at it for a second before taking it from her. "Thanks." She left down the metal spoon she was holding and swiftly tied her dark hair back in a low ponytail, getting back to work without holding up the line.
At least, she's efficient. That was about the only positive thing that Ally could say about Sydney.
Chapter Three
As soon as Sydney got home, she went straight into the shower, letting the hot spray massage her tense muscles. The rainfall shower head along with the two extra jets hitting her from the side felt like heaven, warming her up and washing away any germs she might have brought back from the shelter. She didn't consider herself a germaphobic. She didn't carry around hand sanitizer or wipe down her desk several times a day, but it was impossible to know what she might have brought home from that place.
The shelter itself had been clean, from what she could see anyway, but the people who lined up for their dinner weren't. She'd gotten the whiff of alcohol off a few of them, while others smelled like they hadn't bathed in days.
Sydney did feel bad for them. She did, but she couldn't help wondering how they'd gotten into that position in the first place. How could you let yourself become homeless? She just couldn't comprehend it. There were probably a few of them who really couldn't have done anything about it. Maybe they'd been in abusive situations or lost their jobs. But even if they'd been fired, there were more jobs out there.
Sydney shook away those thoughts as she stepped out of the shower, dried off, and put on her black satin robe. She had fifty-nine more hours to spend in that place. She didn't need to analyze why people were there. She just needed to put in the hours, and then her life would go back to normal.
She had too many clients to find apartments for and developers to sell out buildings for to be spending that many hours away from the office. She'd somehow let the first six months go by which meant she had fifty-nine hours of community service to do in six months which equaled two to three hours a week. She really didn't have time for that, but since she couldn't pay a fine, it was that or jail. And Sydney Dawson was definitely not going to jail.
Sometimes, Sydney wondered where this country was going. She'd had three glasses of wine over dinner with a client and had been pulled over on her way home. She popped a mint before she'd been breathalyzed, not knowing if that would make a difference or not, but she hadn't been worried. She'd had those drinks over three hours and with food. She couldn't be drunk. She'd felt fine, completely in control, but that's not what the test said.
Sydney still felt like that night had been a dream, a nightmare she might wake up from, but it had happened, and now she was paying for it, in time spent at a homeless shelter. It was that or pick up garbage on the side of the highway. That was not something she was prepared to do. Imagine if one of her clients saw her?
The other choice had been speaking to people about the consequences of drinking and driving. Again, she wasn't going to risk running into someone she knew, and what did she know about drunk driving anyway? This wasn't something Sydney did. She didn't get drunk and go out for a joy ride. She'd just been going home from a business dinner after what she'd thought was an acceptable amount of wine.
Surely, there were better places for the police to put their resources, like in the neighborhood where this homeless shelter was. She'd decided on the way home that she'd use her driver or get a taxi there from now on. She wasn't going to keep parking her brand new Audi outside. The street was barely lit, and in the hour that she'd been there, she'd seen all sorts of people lingering around. She was pretty sure she'd even witnessed a drug deal as she drove off.
Fifty-nine more hours sounded awful, but she'd often worked fifty or sixty hour weeks. The difference was she loved that kind of work. She got to spend her day touring apartments around the city and negotiating deals. She loved the adrenaline, and the way she could convince people to make a decision. Volunteering at the shelter wasn't anything like that. The hour crawled by, and she could feel the younger woman that had been standing beside her staring at her.
What was her name? Callie? No. Ally. Yeah, Ally. That was it.
She was normally so good with names, but there was something about tonight that had thrown her. She hated feeling out of place. She was used to wining and dining clients, strangers often times, and figuring out how to find some common ground, something they could talk about, something she could compliment them on, but there was none of that tonight.
Sydney really couldn't get her head around someone getting to that point, where they had nowhere to go. Didn't these people have friends or family who they could stay with if their circumstances had changed?
Hard work was something that Sydney prided herself on, and if she was kicked out of this apartment in the morning, she'd find a way to make it work. She'd probably stay at a friend's house for a few weeks. Find a way to make some extra money. There was always a way to make a little more money. Then she'd find somewhere to rent and work even harder, saving her money until she was able to buy a place.
Sydney towel dried her hair as she sat on the edge of her king sized bed. Maybe she could talk to them, help them somehow. Inspire them. She only had fifty-nine more hours to figure it out.
Chapter Four
Ally packed away her makeshift hair salon, putting away her scissors. She unplugged the hairdryer and folded up the small square table, leaving it back against the wall behind the door until next week. The set up in the corner of the volunteer’s lounge wasn't ideal, but she knew how good getting a hair cut felt, especially when it might have been months or even years since their last one.
She'd been expecting to cut five people's hair, four women and one man. She'd arranged it with them as she saw them at the shelter during the week, letting them know she'd be around for a few hours on Sunday afternoon, but she'd had two walk-ins, and Ally was more than happy to stay an extra hour to fit them in.
When she'd been staying here years ago, she was lucky enough to be able to cut her own hair. She'd done her own hair since she was fifteen, and for her, it was a quick and easy job. She used to cut Jess's too, even though she had no formal training back then. Ally hadn't even decided on hair dressing as a profession until a year after she'd left the shelter and got a job as a waitress. She'd saved up and found a night class. It was clear she had a talent for it, and that's what she'd been doing for the last nine years.
There were other more important ways that Ally helped out here, but this was by far her favorite. When she held up a mirror and asked them to have a look, their smiles were so genuine, sometimes the first ones that Ally had seen from them. They had so many things going wrong in their lives, it was nice to be able to give them something that might cheer them up, even for a few hours.
Ally put on her black winter jacket and zipped up her backpack. She was about to sling it over her shoulder when she heard the clicking of high heels against
the tiled floor, and Ally knew who it was before she appeared. Sydney, the woman from last week.
"Hey," Ally said in an effort to be friendly. "Back again?"
Sydney met her eyes on her way over to the lockers. She wore black work pants and a plum colored blouse, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. "Unfortunately, you'll be seeing a lot of me."
Ally quirked an eyebrow. Great attitude. "Oh?"
"Community service," Sydney said with a wry smile. "Fifty-four more hours to go."
"Ah." Ally picked up her bag.
"You're not going to ask what I did?" Sydney took out a deep green winter coat and put it on.
"It's none of my business," Ally heard herself say, although she was curious. Probably tax evasion. Maybe some shady business dealings?
"Well, it's nothing too serious. DUI. I was just over the limit."
Ally's stomach churned. "Yeah, but you were over the limit. There's a limit for a reason."
"I had three glasses of wine over dinner. I was not drunk."
"But the breathalyzer said you were over the legal limit," Ally said, trying to keep her temper in check. She clutched the strap of her backpack that was hanging off her shoulder, digging her nails into the fabric.
"Yes, but I'm just saying that I wasn't drunk. I wouldn't have gotten in my car and made the decision to drive home if I couldn't handle it."
Ally exhaled. She didn't need to argue with Sydney, especially when she was going to be volunteering here so much.
"You don't agree?" Sydney asked as she buttoned up her coat, her caramel brown eyes challenging her. "You've never driven home after a drink or two?"
"I don't drink."
"Oh. I see."
Ally put her bag down, her hands on her hips. "I'm not disagreeing with you because I don't drink. I'm just taking the side of the law."
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