Season of Joy

As Grant walked away, Calista felt her face grow hot. No wonder she was at her best in the boardroom. She was a total failure at normal conversation.

“Hey, Calista, did you want to grab some coffee with me in the cafeteria? Then I can show you the filing system.” Calista turned her head in surprise, then readjusted her gaze downward.

“Lana, that sounds great, actually.”

Lana wheeled past her, leading the way to the cafeteria. She handed Calista her badge on the way. “Here’s your ID. Go ahead and slip it on. You should have it visible at all times, especially since you don’t have a uniform.”

Calista took the square badge and slipped the lanyard over her neck. She was thankful she didn’t have to wear that awful uniform. Then she squashed the feeling down, irritated with her own shallowness. At least the shirts weren’t yellow. She looked awful in yellow.

They swiped the badges at the front and went to the coffee bar. Lana balanced her cup on a tray settled on her knees. Calista hovered, undecided, then said nothing. Lana had lots of practice carrying her own cup. She should probably just back up and let her do it.

Lana stopped at a table, scooted a chair to the side, then wheeled into place. “You’re a godsend for the mission, you know.”

Calista choked, the bitter liquid burning its way up her throat. She took a few seconds to clear her airway, her mind spinning. Of all the things she had expected Lana to say, this was close to last on a very long list. “Why do you say that?”

“Your business background. We’re in big trouble here and I think someone with your experience could get us back on track.”

Calista stared into her cup, watching the overhead lights shimmer on the black surface. “I hadn’t heard that. I don’t know anything about nonprofits. I wish I did, truly, but—”

“How different can it be? We need money, you know how to make money.” Lana leaned forward, her usually pleasant expression now serious. “Grant doesn’t want to alarm anyone, but this is the worst situation we’ve been in for years. Our funds have been low, but this is scraping the barrel.”

“What’s the problem? Did you have a big donor back out?”

Lana sighed. “The day-care area needed to be updated to keep in line with federal standards. Then we had to widen all the doorways and bathrooms for handicapped access.” She glanced up. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for being able to get to the bathroom. But the board thought we should widen everything, not just have one designated exit or bathroom on each floor. That was early this year. Right after that, the classrooms had to have all the electrical redone to be up to code. Then the state recommended every public space have an emergency contact system put in, so we had to put in a PA system.”

Calista nodded. Sometimes things snowballed and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. “So, how bad is it? The financial situation, I mean.”

“Bad. The roof is leaking, so it has to be fixed, and soon. We’ve got another four months of snow. We’ll have to close that building if we can’t fix the roof. Thanksgiving is a huge expense, and then winter comes right on top, so we’ll be full to the brim. If it was June, we could probably make it through. But as it is right now...” Lana’s light blue eyes dropped to her cup, her lips thinned out in a line. “Even with Christmas donations on the way, we won’t make it into December at this rate.”

A woman appeared behind Lana, her round face pocked with acne scars but her dark eyes were bright. “Lana? Jose needs you at the desk. There’s some question about the switchboard. They can’t transfer a call.”

Lana nodded. “I’m coming.” She motioned to her cup. “Finish your coffee. Come on back when you’re done.”

“Thanks,” Calista said and watched Lana push herself with powerful arms toward the doorway. She couldn’t shake the sense of alarm that threaded through her at Lana’s news. The mission had serious money issues and they thought she could help? How? A for-profit company sold stock or got investors and promised some kind of return. What kind of return was there in giving cash to a homeless shelter? No wealthy person she knew would be willing to donate the kind of money they needed. There was nothing in it for them.

Calista’s shoulders straightened. She would just have to figure something out. But first she needed to get a specific idea of what kind of numbers they were talking about. She glanced around, feeling like the new kid in junior high who had to eat lunch alone. The cafeteria had emptied considerably in the few minutes they’d been talking and the kitchen staff had come out to wipe down the tables and collect trays.

Marisol directed several groups in aprons as they cleared the food trays out of the warming areas. The small Hispanic woman was a blur of movement as she bustled between workers. She spotted Calista sitting alone at the table and paused, frowning. Seconds later she was standing before her, hands on hips, lined face creasing with displeasure.

“Did they go and leave you alone?”

Calista considered her options. She could rat out Grant and feel a little satisfaction after being dumped for Jennie-the-lawyer-but-not-girlfriend. Or she could be honest.

“Lana was here, but they needed her back at the desk.” She tried a placating tone, hoping for an undercurrent of nonchalance.

“That’s no excuse. Where Mr. Monohan?” If anything, Calista’s explanation made the frown even deeper.

“He got a phone call. It was Jennie, the girl you were asking about.” She had no idea if that would be helpful, but she felt as if she’d been called to the principal’s office.

The noise that came out of Marisol’s mouth made her think of an angry goose. An angry mama goose. “So! He leave you to go talk to the girl who says he love Jesus too much!”

Calista felt her face start to flush. The cafeteria crowd was sparse, but there were still a few curious looks being cast in her direction. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind.”

Her dark head was cocked slightly, eyes appraising Calista. “Oh? You think he is too religious, like that crazy girl?”

Calista’s gaze swept the cafeteria for any sign of rescue in the form of Jose. “No, he’s perfect the way he is. And I don’t mind eating by myself.” Or she didn’t until the cafeteria matron came to give her a hard time.

As if someone had flipped a switch, Marisol dropped her fists from her hips and slid into the seat across from her. “I’m sorry if I make you feel upset. I want him to have a family, a wife who love him, but he is so busy.”

At least she knew when to back down. Her cheeks still felt hot but Calista said, “That’s all right. I can tell you care about him.”

“Oh, yes. Mr. Monohan save my life.” She said this as if she was simply giving the time of day.

* * *

Grant laid the phone in its cradle and dropped his head in his hands. What an awkward conversation. He never wanted to repeat anything like it, ever. Jennie wanted to give it—them—another shot and well, he didn’t.

Jose peeked in the door and gave him a sympathetic glance. “Looks like that went about as well as I thought it would.”

“Yeah, you called it.” Grant stared at the desktop, shoulders slumped. “I’ll have to call Eric and tell him he’s banned from setting me up with anyone, ever again.”

“It’s not his fault. You have to admit, she’s pretty good-looking.”

Grant frowned. “So, how did you know that she...?”

“Wasn’t your type?” Jose sidled a glance at him and then chuckled at his boss’s irritated expression.

“Right. Did you give her a personality test when I wasn’t watching?”

“She wasn’t interested in the mission. Just you. And that was never going to work.”

“Not interested? Why else would she be here? I’m pretty good at spotting the fakers and the takers.” He’d spent close to ten years at the mission, on and off, and after awhile he could smell a user at fifty yards. Not a drug user, but a people user. Although he’d gotten pretty good at spotting the addicts, as well.

“Simple.” Jose’s black eyes were restless, like a bird’s, as he glanced around the lobby. “She never tried to talk to anybody else but you. Not the kids, not the staff, not Lana or Michelle or Lissa, or the residents.”

“I can’t believe that she never talked to anybody. There are hundreds of people here every day.”

“I didn’t say she didn’t talk to them. I said she didn’t try.”

Grant frowned, trying to remember. “Well, make sure you use your superpowers the next time, okay? You can save me some time.”

He turned to see a huge grin spread over Jose’s face. “Now what?”

“You sure you want me to put on my cape and tell you who to ask out?”

Grant rolled his eyes. “Sure, why not? Just don’t make the list too long. I’m not made of money, you know.”

“How about the new volunteer?”