Clover lowered her eyebrows. “No, I don’t.”
“That way they don’t let you down.”
Clover’s defensive reply died in her throat. She thought about her small circle of friends. She loved each one of them as if they were family, because they were the closest thing she would have to a family. But beyond that, she approached people with a small amount of mistrust. Growing up on the streets, she was never sure who was out to take something from her. Trusting too easily could have set her up for emotional and possibly physical pain.
“You might be right.” She one-armed hugged Jane back. “Because right now, I’m thinking you’re trying to set me up for a big change, and I don’t like it—or you.”
Jane laughed and let her go. “You’ve got good instincts. I’m challenging you to say one nice thing about a person for every bad thing you say. And if you think something bad, you have to think something good.” She nudged Clover. “Start with me.”
Clover shrugged. “That’s easy. You care about people and sacrifice for others without a thought.”
“See. That was easy.”
Clover hugged her arms around her middle. She’d understood that her upbringing was less than ideal and that she didn’t always see things as others saw them. This little exercise might be the exact right thing to help her trust people, or at least trust in the good she believed lived inside each person. “Thanks, Jane.”
“No problem.” Jane opened the office door. “Now, go out there and spread some sunshine.”
Clover hopped out the door and ran into a man carrying a microphone. “Sorry,” she mumbled at the same time he did. The Pantry was dotted with television cameras and microphones. Thick black wires ran across the floor. Their normal Thursday patrons stood outside, watching through the window as The Pantry changed from a refuge to a circus. As a general rule, the people who came in for a meal were shy. They didn’t want to be on camera. In the middle of all the crazy activity stood Dustin Colt.
Her heart leapt and then beat out a steady mantra:He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.
A woman with a hairbrush stood in front of Clover, blocking her view and shaking her out of the trance.
Jane shut the office door behind her and nearly ran into Clover.
Clover took one look at Dustin and his perfectly tousled hair and smooth chin and flipped on Jane. “How about I start thinking nice things next week?” she asked out of the side of her mouth.
Jane patted her back. “Nope.”
Shoot!
Chapter Thirteen
Clover waved at John, the man staring in through the front window. He had on a pair of severely wrinkled cargo pants and a dingy tank top, his chest hair poking straight out of the neckline. His bald head was covered with a red baseball hat. He lifted a couple fingers in response. She motioned for him to come inside. There was a box of granola bars in the back, and he looked like he could use a snack.
John shook his head sadly and turned to leave. Clover’s heart ached on his behalf. He’d obviously come for a reason, and now he was leaving because the camera crew was here. Too many people inside who might make big circles as they walked by and refuse to look him in the eye.
Clover dashed to the door and ran down the sidewalk to stop him. He had a habit of disappearing into thin air for weeks at a time. His sunken cheeks said that he didn’t have weeks to wait for a good meal. “John!”
He jerked his chin over his shoulder and tensed at the sound of his name. When he saw Clover, he relaxed, and his worn shoes came to a halt. He ducked his head, waiting for her to talk first.
“John.” She lightly touched his sleeve. “It’s so good to see you. Would you like to come in?”
He worked his mouth for a minute. “Looks crowded.”
Clover silently cursed the need for private sponsors and their personal agendas. “Only for today,” she assured him. If he took The Pantry off his list of stops, he could be in big trouble. “Why don’t you go around back, and you can sit in the kitchen with me where it’s quiet. I made stew today.”
John finally took his eyes off the ground and looked at the front door. “It’s just today?”
“Yes, sir.” Clover beamed, hoping to reassure him that The Pantry was still a haven for him and anyone who needed a meal.
“I’ll come back tomorrow, then.” He dropped his chin to his chest and shuffled off.
Clover watched him go, feeling as though she’d failed him. With a quick prayer on John’s behalf, she stomped back into The Pantry, her anger at the situation simmering under the surface.
“There she is,” said Jane, pointing at Clover. The woman with the brush grabbed her arm and propelled her across the floor to the backdrop they’d prepared. Dustin held a giant check on one side, and Jane held the other.
“Here,” said brush girl, “stand right next to Dustin.”
