John nodded. “Once we’ve found somewhere for the families to stay, we have a counselor who assesses their needs. The Carol Hirshfield Trust and another sponsor pay for everything you see here, plus drug addiction programs, budgeting workshops, cooking classes, and health and wellness programs.
Joseph held Shona’s hand. It was as cold as ice. “You’re freezing. Do you want to borrow my jacket?”
“I’ll be okay. I’m just a little surprised. How many food parcels and backpacks do you deliver each week?”
John rubbed his jaw. “Most Mondays, we pack between twenty-five and forty food parcels. We do an extra run on Fridays to cover anyone who missed placing an order earlier in the week. The backpack numbers are a little harder to average out. But I’d say there’d usually be about ten of those a week. More if we have an influx of families like we have now.”
John waved them toward a door on one side of the kitchen. “Time for our next stop.”
Joseph took off his jacket and wrapped it around Shona’s shoulders. “You’ll need this. We’re going outside again.”
“Have you been here when the volunteers are getting everything ready?”
“Once or twice. Andrea and Paris weren’t here when I was helping.” He didn’t know whether to smile or pull Shona close. “We do a lot of good work.”
John cleared his throat and opened the door.
Shona stepped outside. “You use minivans to deliver the food?”
John ushered Shona and Joseph out of the way of someone loading a box of backpacks into the van. “Our previous van was thirty years old. If we had any special Christmas wishes that required a delivery, we had to borrow a van from someone in town. Joseph—I mean the trust—purchased three minivans for the church to use.”
“They’re the same ones the choir will use to get to the Christmas carol competition,” Joseph added. “They’re safe and reliable—everything the last van wasn’t.”
A gust of wind lifted Shona’s hair off the collar of her jacket.
“Let’s go inside,” Joseph said. “John can tell us more about what the trust funds from his office.”
“No, I can’t,” John said quickly. “Shelley will see us. I’ve found somewhere else we can talk.”
They hurried inside and turned toward the kitchen. With a quick look along the corridor, John opened a door and turned on the lights.
Joseph sighed. “You brought us to a utility cupboard?”
“Utilityroom. It may be tiny, but it’s away from Shelley.” John pulled three camp chairs off a shelf and handed them to Joseph. “You open these while I find the information I need.”
When they were seated, John handed each of them a folder. “Joseph thought it would be helpful if he itemized everything the trust has sponsored over the last two years. He also wanted to include information regarding his personal wealth.”
Shona handed her folder back to John. “Could you take out the personal information?”
Joseph frowned. “You wanted to know everything about me.”
“I don’t need to know how much money you have.”
John didn’t wait for Joseph to reply. He whipped the last document out of Shona’s folder and returned the rest of the information to her.
She opened the folder to the first page.
Joseph didn’t need to read it. He’d spent two evenings compiling a list of everything the trust had funded. When it was finished, even he was impressed.
“You’ve funded all of these?” Shona asked.
Joseph nodded. He didn’t know if it was the fluorescent lights, but she was even paler than when she was standing outside. “Some were one-off equipment purchases or for activities that needed specific funding. Others, like the food parcels, happen regularly.”
Shona’s gaze returned to the list. “You’ve helped a lot of people.”
John leaned forward. “Between Joseph and our other major funder, we help hundreds of people each year.”
The door opened, and Shelley let out a squeal. “Oh, my goodness. What are you all doing in here?”
