A Season For Family

“Alrighty, then.” Velma fanned her fingers in a goodbye and tugged at Amos’s sleeve to ensure that he was close behind.

“Thanks for joining us this evening.” Olivia acknowledged Heath’s presence in her Bible study.

“I didn’t think I had a choice.”

“You didn’t. But you attended without an argument and that’s appreciated.”

“Do you get much backtalk?”

Olivia couldn’t hold in a smile. The guy seemed clueless about the streets. Maybe his tough look was all for show and he really was a nerd in skater boy clothing after all.

“What’s so funny?” His brows drew together.

She motioned toward the coffee station and moved away from the conversation couches of the big room. She poured a cup and turned her back to the others as she offered it to Heath.

“Homeless folks can be unpredictable.” She kept her voice low. “Sometimes they’re so worn down by their circumstances that there’s no fight left. It’s all they can do to put one foot in front of the other each day looking for shelter and food. Other times they’re like cheap firecrackers. The fuse is already short and it’s just a matter of time before they explode.

“And, sadly, we get our fair share of clients with mental problems. We do the best we can, referring folks where better resources can meet their needs.”

He nodded. “So, if nobody melts down or blows a gasket it’s a good day.”

“That’s it in a nutshell.” Olivia tore off several sheets from the wall-mounted paper towel dispenser and began wiping up drips and splashes around the coffee urn.

Heath leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, shook his head. “Isn’t there a smarter way for a single lady to make a living? I mean, where’s your chance for advancement, your five-year plan?”

“Thoughtful questions from a guy spending his vacation in a homeless shelter because he was too shortsighted to consider the consequences of a prank against city government.”

Olivia couldn’t resist dishing it right back when Heath had the nerve to question the wisdom of her professional decisions.

“My bad.” Heath lowered his eyes, tapped the toe of his sneaker against the linoleum of the big room.

Was hanging his handsome head a sign of humility? Or shame? Or just an act?

Olivia planned to figure out which one it was but she didn’t need to get in a hurry. Heath still had about ninety-five hours left on his sentence, plenty of time for her to decide what made him tick.

Chapter Four

Even though Heath’s question could have been posed more diplomatically, he’d been straightforward in the asking. He deserved an honest response, and he was watching Olivia now with expectation in his brown eyes.

“You’re not the first person to inquire about my ambitions,” she noted in response. “As a matter of fact I had to justify myself to the zoning commission and then again to some local churches who give us financial support. Table of Hope is my calling, but it’s also my sole responsibility.”

“I heard your father funded this place.”

Her hands stilled, her gaze met his.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of cruel joke?”

He pushed away from the wall, stood tall. “No, and I’m sorry ’cause I can see I’ve offended you. Detective Biddle said you were the boss lady and I thought he mentioned something about your father.”

“He probably did.” She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if she’d ever break free of the past. “I forgot you’re not from around here and you don’t know the Wyatt family history.”

She dropped to one knee to unlock the cabinet beneath the coffee bar. As she pulled the double doors wide, he moved closer and bent low to peer inside.

“Can I give you a hand with that?” Heath offered, his eyes glancing toward the contents of the storage shelves.

“Sure.” She moved aside, gave him access. “This area needs to be restocked a couple of times a day with just enough for a few hours. We can’t leave the supplies sitting out or they’ll walk away.”

“It’s the same where I work. People on the honor system always develop sticky fingers.”

“I’m afraid that’s been my experience, too,” she admitted.

“What happens if you catch somebody stealing?”

“We haven’t had to face that situation yet, but I’d remind the person we require honesty and accountability for our supplies. The clients have to respect that if they want to remain at Table of Hope.”

“A reminder is good, but removing temptation is still the best defense.”

She nodded in agreement. “That’s why we keep a close watch on our pantry and almost everything goes under lock and key at nine o’clock.”

“Want me to close this back up for you?” He opened his palm. Olivia removed the keys from her neck and dropped them in his hand.

“It’s the one with the black plastic tag, the same color as the dot beside the lock.”

He stood, returned her keys. “So everything’s color-coded?”

“You got it.” She moved toward the door, motioned for Heath to follow as she headed for the check-in area. “I hope you’re an early riser. The newest resident always gets the first shift.”

“I don’t sleep much, so that’s no problem. Midnight to four is about the only rest I can count on. So sign me up for crack-of-dawn duty.”

Passing into the front lobby, Olivia took the clipboard from Velma, blocking any chance for her to pounce on Heath. “Amos will love you for being an early bird.”

“First he has to get over hating me for being clueless in the kitchen.”

Olivia ignored the concern and motioned toward her office, a head-high cubicle that shielded a metal desk and two chairs.

“Amos is a wonderful person and I couldn’t get by without him.” She felt the need to explain. “But he lost everything at an age when a man should be enjoying life. I hope we can turn it around over time, but he’s become a glass-half-empty kinda guy.”

“The last time I heard somebody use that term they were talkin’ about me,” Heath offered as he settled into her creaky desk chair.

“Would you agree that’s true?”

“Pretty much.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Olivia pressed.

“Should it?” His head hitched to one side, a challenge in his eyes.

“I suppose not if you’re okay with your perspective being defined by lack instead of abundance. It seems sad, choosing to limit your possibilities in life.”