“Thank you. It’s been a rough road.”
Vickie was in an abusive relationship for nearly five years and barely escaped with her life. She and her two young daughters are staying at a shelter.
“Are you going to have a housewarming party?”
Her eyebrows furrow. “I haven’t thought about it.”
“You definitely should,” I encourage her. “I can help you create a registry.”
Vickie smiles, nodding her head. “I’d like that.”
“Great.” I redirect my attention to her girls. “And how are you little chipmunks doing? Having a fun summer?”
They protest, not at all pleased with being likened to a cute furry animal.
“I’m so sorry, girls. What was I thinking?” I smack myself on the forehead, looking heavenward. “You’re both beautiful princesses.”
They giggle bashfully, appeased by my compliment. I wink at Vickie and we share a smile. I can’t wait to be a mother.
“Ready for lunch?” I ask them.
“Yes!” Kenzie yells, jumping up and down. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too!” Misty exclaims excitedly. She’s the youngest of the two.
We enter the building and make our way to the reception hall. A crowd of people trail in behind us. It’s going to be busy, but that’s the usual. People from different walks of life come here seeking good food, laughter, and resources. Some linger for conversation, while others take their lunch to go.
“We’re going to find somewhere to sit,” Vickie states, grasping her girls around the shoulders.
“Okay,” I reply. “We’ll catch up later.”
I go into the kitchen and wash my hands at the sink. I notice there aren’t many volunteers today, which means cleanup is going to take a while. The few that are here scurry to-and-fro, prepping food and going about other tasks. My gaze alights on the stainless-steel chafer pans lining the countertop.Baked chicken, mac and cheese, green beans, dinner rolls, and chocolate cake. It all looks and smells so amazing.
“Hello, Eve.” Martha’s jovial voice reaches my ears before she appears beside me. “Glad you could make it.”
She’s quite springy for a woman beyond her golden years. I aspire to have the same energy at her age.
“Oh, it’s no problem,” I respond, tearing off a paper towel to dry my hands. “I love helping out.”
Martha is the church secretary and organizes these lunches. She’s the unofficial mother hen to everyone.
“I’ll start setting up,” I tell her.
“Thanks, dear.”
“You’re welcome.”
I bustle back and forth between the kitchen and reception hall, first arranging the frames and water pans across several tables then lighting the fuel under each one so the food stays warm. Another volunteer helps me. Next, we bring out the food, placing the laden pans inside the water pans.
Suddenly, a tantalizing aroma assails my nostrils. It reminds me of cardamom and warm leather. I angle my head to the left, seeking the source of the alluring scent and inhale a sharp breath.
“W-what a-are y-you d-doing h-here?” I stammer.
Shepard flashes his teeth in a wicked grin. “You’re not the only one who likes giving back to the community.”
He slides the chocolate cake onto the table.
“But I’ve never seen you here before,” I snap, squinting my eyes at him. “Are you following me?”
