Season of Joy

“She said that?”

“No, but you know how it goes. Guilt sets in, they come sign up for a few meals, then January hits and they feel better about themselves so they never come back. Until next November.”

Jose nodded. “Well, probably a good thing anyway.”

“Why? You know something I don’t?” No matter how careful or protective he was of the people here, there would always be those who came to prey on the weaker ones. He had set up several lines of defense with background checks, personal references and lots of observant employees. But there were cracks in every fortress.

“Nope. Just thinking she’s definitely your type.” Jose grinned and waggled his thick eyebrows.

“That’s unprofessional,” he said, frowning. Unprofessional and unsettling. She wasn’t anything like his type. He felt comfortable with women who were reserved, even a little distant. The woman who came here today was a bundle of emotions; they flickered across her face like pictures on a screen.

“Yeah, it is, but it’s still true. Plus, how would this place survive if you actually got a life?”

“I do have a life. It’s just very quiet.”

“You mean, boring.” And with that Jose popped back out.

Grant sighed and pushed back his chair, stretching his long legs out under the old wooden desk. He was busy. He didn’t have time for a girlfriend. At least, that’s what he told himself.

He rubbed a hand over his face. Sometimes, when it was just a little too quiet, he thought about his mother. A beautiful woman ruined by her addictions, heartbroken when she trusted the wrong person. She never stopped reminiscing over how rich his father was, how successful. It almost seemed as if she didn’t remember that he’d left her with nothing but a baby to raise. The memory of the fast cars, wads of cash and fancy parties blurred her focus, polluted her heart. The love of money was the root of all evil, right? Grant straightened his shoulders. He was never going to be sucked into that fantasy world. He was happy, right where he was.

His mind flicked toward the image of Calista’s face, her large green eyes sparkling with hope. He wished her well. He really did. But people like that didn’t stick around places like a homeless shelter. The pull of money was too strong. And money was one thing the mission didn’t have.

If God didn’t nudge somebody to donate really soon, and in a big way, they might not even have to worry about Christmas preparations. The mission would have to close. But he would do everything in his power to make sure that didn’t happen.

* * *

Calista slid her car into the open space at the parking garage behind the mission and tried to calm her pounding heart. She allowed a small smile to touch her lips as she thought of the irony of the situation. Just that morning she had brokered a huge deal with a company in Northern California. It had been months in the making and if it succeeded, their production and distribution would be on the fast track to making VitaWow a nationwide phenomenon. Before ten this morning, she was CEO to a company that was a regional star. After ten, she was CEO to a company that could be as widely recognized as Coca-Cola in just a few years.

The irony of her anxiety now was that she hadn’t felt a bit uncomfortable going into a meeting that could decide the fate of her company. She knew business and marketing, she understood the language and the terms. More than all of that, she had a gift for business. Calista took another deep breath and shook her head.

But this mission gig had her stomach in knots. Definitely out of the comfort zone, right where God wanted her.

The short walk to the front doors of the lobby seemed to take forever but finally Calista stepped into the warmth. She headed for Lana’s desk, unbuttoning her bright red wool peacoat on the way.

The secretary glanced up and raised a hand. “Glad to see you. You’re early. I just love early people.”

Calista felt her heart lift. Lana sounded like she really was glad to see her. “I was raised in a family of chronically late people so I rebel by arriving just a bit early,” Calista said, trying not to look toward Grant’s office. She wondered if he was at the mission, or if he was in a meeting somewhere, and then was irritated at herself for wondering.

“Just a bit early is perfect. Then there are those people who come twenty minutes early for everything.” Lana rubbed the spiky ends of her hair, and Calista recognized the gesture from her last visit.

“What do you need me to do today?”

“Thanksgiving is a really busy time for us. Not just for meals. There’s lots of paperwork. It would be a relief to have someone do a little filing. We have a skeleton crew for the office right now, since two of our part-timers left for other positions.”

“You’re at the front desk a lot of the time?”

“Right, so when I’m out here, I can’t be in there,” she said, waving a hand toward the locked door on the right.

Calista’s mouth went dry and she cleared her throat. “So, I’ll be working with you at the desk, or back in the offices?” She added hastily, “I can answer phones, too. If you show me your system.” She actually hadn’t worked a switchboard since college but the thought of working in close quarters with Grant sent a thrill of alarm through her.

“Because of privacy issues, you should probably work in the office area. We can have you organize files into specific cabinets, without having to look at the papers, since they’re all color-coded.”

Calista nodded, resigned to the fact she was going to bump into the man. She would just have to get a grip. “I’m ready,” she chirped, hoping she was convincing enough.

Lana must have thought so, because she pushed a button on her phone and said, “Grant, Calista’s here.”

“Be right out.” The answering voice was familiar, in a tinny way.

Lana let go of the button. “Thanks again for the help. You’re saving me a headache.”

She smiled automatically but her mind was whirling. “Jose’s not here? I would think Grant’s way too busy to show me the filing system.”

“He’s here, but the director asked to be the one to show you around the offices.” Lana’s words were followed by the appearance of the man himself.

Calista heard the door, and turned her head in time to see him open the door with speed. He looked a little harried, his red tie crooked and crisp white shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms.

He was happy to see her. At least, his expression changed from something like worry to pleasure. His lips quirked up and his eyes radiated warmth. She couldn’t stop herself from responding. It had been so long since anyone had looked happy to see her. She let her eyes drift over him for the briefest moment and then clamped down hard on any desire to give a closer examination.

“Glad you’re back. Come on in,” he said, motioning her through the door.

It was just a common phrase, but her smile only got bigger. It was like she’d swallowed a happy pill.

“I’ll show you the offices first, then the general meeting rooms and the break room.” He strode down a carpeted hallway and stopped at the first door, knocking lightly.

The affirmative answer from the inside sounded muffled, and she saw why when Grant pushed open the door. Jose was crouched near the desk, piles of power cords in his hands.

“This power strip is dead. I’ll have to get another from the supply closet. Maybe they only last a few—” His sentence trailed off as he finally caught a glimpse of his audience. “Hey, Calista. Glad to see you back.”

“Hi there,” she responded, grinning. Three people had welcomed her in less than ten minutes. She felt all warm and fuzzy inside. It had been a very long time since anybody had said “hey” to her. People didn’t say “hey” to the CEO.

“Jose’s office. He oversees the group that works with the food boxes distributed to needy families. He also organizes social activities for the residents.”

“Yup. And I say we spring for a real Santa this year. The kids are starting to suspect the truth when Santa has a Tex-Mex accent.” He grabbed his stomach and tried a few “ho ho ho” sounds.

Grant laughed and waved a hand. “You know you love it. All right, on to the next stop.”

The next door was an empty office that had a high window with a pulled shade. “One of our three empty offices. Soon to be filled, God willing. The person here handles class scheduling and addiction support. The main counselors and teachers are doing well right now, but it helps to have a manager type to handle any conflicts.”

Another short walk to the next door and Grant pushed it open without knocking. “My office. Lana started calling it my ‘man cave’ after Jose brought in a small fridge.”

“Got it stocked with beer for those slow afternoons?” She chuckled to herself the split second before she realized her mistake. “Oh, Grant. Sorry. That was stupid.” His mother was an alcoholic, Grant didn’t drink, and she’d just made a beer joke. She wanted to fall through the floor.

To her relief he seemed to shrug off the insensitive comment. “No big deal. And no beer.”

Calista gazed around the space and wondered why Grant didn’t have a nicer office. As the director, he needed to give the impression that he was the head of a thriving organization. People donated to the cause they thought would succeed—it was human nature. Maybe it was because the donors always met in the conference rooms. Or maybe with nonprofits, it might not work as well to flash too much wealth. In her world, understated luxury was the only way to go.

His office was more than understated; it was shabby. An older-than-Methuselah desk, a battered chair, a few framed photos, his diplomas and the small fridge.