I shrugged. “Hard to say. Sometimes we are, sometimes we aren’t. It depends on whether they’re hungry enough to ventureout. We’ll probably get those within a couple blocks, but I’m not sure about the others.”
Leaning on the right side of the double doorframe, he glanced into the dining hall. “Well, whoever shows up is sure to get a great meal. It smells good already.”
I stepped past him. “It does. Smells like some kind of pasta bake. I can’t wait for our turn after.”
“Definitely the best part.” He patted my shoulder. “Enjoy serving it. I think my stomach would growl the entire time.”
With a chuckle, I continued on, passing through the dining room to the kitchen. I scrubbed my hands at the sink right inside the door, grabbed my apron, then waved hello to the other volunteers. None of us were paid in terms of money for working at the meal, but we did get to enjoy the same food after all our guests had eaten and the tables were cleaned up.
“So, what’s for dinner?” I asked Sharon, the red panda shifter who organized the cooking and baking of the meals.
She grabbed a pair of oven mitts and opened the oven to remove two foil-covered baking dishes. “Chicken pasta bake for the meat eaters and a spinach one for the rest of us. Some garlic bread to go with it, and pie for dessert. There’s salad for anyone really against pasta, but, as you know, it rarely ever gets eaten.”
“Yeah.” After opening the sliding door out to the dining hall, I grabbed a cloth to wipe off the serving counter before any food was set on it. “That’s why I usually end up taking it with me. There’s a mouse shifter on the way home who never comes here but always appreciates when I drop it off to her.”
“Ah, old Sandy. How is she doing?”
“She has arthritis everywhere but tries to do what she can. Still lives with Gladys, too. I worry what will happen to one if the other is hospitalized or passes.” There were so many elderly people in the community who had to live together to get by. Two pensions together were barely enough to pay rent. The seniorsmade up a large portion of the patrons who visited us, having no family or ones that lived far away from them.
Sharon patted my back with the mitt still warm from the oven. “You’re such a good soul. We really appreciate all the work you do. Hey, I heard you got a big donation today for the Christmas drive.”
“Yes, we did. Hopefully it will start to bring in more.” I withheld saying anything more, trying to forget what had happened during the television spot that was to air on the news in a short period of time.
As more food came out of the oven, I moved some to the counter and other dishes to warming trays. Since I was a deer shifter, I didn’t have to scoop out the meat dish, leaving that task to a human. I was assigned the garlic bread, instead, as well as the salad, but no one expected that to run out at all.
Once the food was set, I opened the wooden doors and greeted the servers. With around half of those who came to our meals being disabled or elderly with canes and walkers, we had volunteers take plates to the tables to reduce the risk of anyone falling or injuring themselves in any way. I saw the usual crew of Bernard, Monica, Taleh, Odesa, and Augusta. Someone new stood off to the side wearing jeans and a black shirt. A man whose appearance from the back of him seemed vaguely familiar. When he turned around, I gasped and choked on the air I tried to breathe in. I knew him. I met him a few hours earlier. It was the guy from Adan Records. The one who had petted me. When I caught my breath again, I tried not to look at him but couldn’t help myself. He was handsome, with short dark hair that was a little longer on the top to show off his perfect waves. A little bit of stubble grazed his jaw as well as his upper lip. When he smiled at me, part of me wanted to blush and give him a wave. I probably would have if I could have gotten past the fact that hepetted me. Nothing would make me forget that violation of basic shifter etiquette.
Chapter Four
Desmond
I hadn’t planned on waiting tables that evening. Not ever in my life. My mom said she had done enough of that for both of us. She’d told me to take whatever job my grandfather offered me at Adan Records even though I didn’t want to. I was sure she wouldn’t have objected to me waiting tables to serve food to the needy, especially since we’d been in their position before my grandfather found out about me.
While at the Good Neighbor House earlier in the day, I had come across a poster looking for volunteers for the community meals, one of them being that night. With nothing planned for the evening, I decided to continue my goodwill and text the number of the person who organized the event. I received a message in reply less than an hour later, telling me what time to show up.
After work, I headed to the food bank with no idea what task I would be given. I hoped to be in the kitchen but was assigned to serve a table instead. Besides, the space behind the counter already looked crowded enough with volunteers, including a cute young omega with a swoop of soft and thick brown hair flowing to one of the shaved sides of his head. His eyes were a deeper brown, and he had a baby face, as if facial hair wasn’t something he worried about. The instant I caught his gaze, he choked. I considered rushing to the other side of the counter to help him, but he seemed to recover quickly on his own. He was obviously on suppressants, but the ones he took didn’t fully block the scent of him. Probably only prevented him from going into heat. Serving meant I got to interact with him every time I went up to get a plate filled with food. It also made me hope the dinner guests filled my table first, so I had plenty of opportunities to see his adorableness.
I shook my head. I was there to do my part for the community, to give back for the luck and good fortune I’d been granted in my life. Not to pick up omegas. Didn’t mean I couldn’t be friendly.
As the patrons arrived, I brought water and juice to those at the table I’d been assigned.
“Hey, you’re new here,” a burly, young man said as he hung his coat over the back of a chair. “I come to all these meals, and I’ve never seen you before.”
“Yes, I am new. My name is Desmond.” I held out my hand as I read his name tag. “It’s nice to meet you, Glen. Would you like a glass of apple juice or water to start?”
“Apple juice, please,” he said after shaking my hand, his voice loud enough to turn heads of the volunteers in the kitchen. Though they all seemed to smile when they realized who the voice belonged to.
I stepped away to get him juice, and by the time I’d returned, my table was full.
“What’s for dinner?” a middle-aged man named Stephen asked, carefully moving from the seat of his walker to a chair. He had tremors, so I waited until he was steady in his seat before I addressed the entire table.
“I’m told tonight’s menu is a vegetable pasta bake with chicken as the meat option. There’s garlic bread and salad as well.”
As they gave me their preferences, I wished I had brought a piece of paper to write it all down. Something my mom would have expected me to know from her years as a waitress. After I had the entire table’s requests, I recited them back to ensure I hadn’t forgotten anything.
“Yay, you got it the first try.” Glen patted my back and Alexa, the woman wearing headphones who sat beside him, gave me thumbs-up.
Bill walked out to the center of the dining room then. “Welcome, everyone, to this evening’s meal. It sure is blustery outside, so I’m glad you were able to make it. As always, I want to thank all the volunteers and donors who make these possible each week.” He waited until the clapping subsided before continuing. “It was a donation from Atwood and Preston Law Firm that paid for tonight’s dinner, and Vincenzo’s Grocery Mart has also provided some baked goods and frozen foods for you to take home after the meal. We will call up tables at that time for you to come and pick up two items. After everyone has had a chance to get something, I will announce that the rest is fair for the taking. As for the meal, there is enough for seconds, or a dish for takeout. Just let our volunteers know.”
