I walked over to the door, where Richard stood with a bottle of wine in hand. “I hope it’s okay that I came over without a final confirmation,” he said hesitantly.
“I’m sorry. Elijah, Gabriella, and I got so busy cooking, I didn’t realize my ringer was off. Sure, come on in.”
“Whatever you’re cooking smells incredible,” Richard remarked, handing me the wine. “You three must be quite the team.”
“Indeed, we are,” I replied. He followed me to the kitchen, where he exchanged pleasantries with Elijah and Gabriella.
I added an extra place setting at the table, anticipation building as we awaited the judgment from our guest. And though I was nervous about sharing our culinary experiment with someone else, I also felt a sense of pride in what we’d accomplished. We had taken a hodgepodge of ingredients and turned them into something wonderful—just like the unlikely friendship that had blossomed between us all.
“This looks amazing. I almost don’t want to eat it,” Richard said. “But I will.”
We all laughed at his joke and absorbed his compliment.
“Wait,” Elijah said, holding up a hand. “I want to say grace first.” We all bowed our heads as Elijah began. “Dear God, thank you for this food and for bringing us together today. We’re grateful that we know how to make something great with whatever we have. Amen.”
Hope sang in my heart with Elijah’s simple yet profoundwords. He was right. Life had thrown its share of curveballs my way, but Elijah’s simple prayer reminded me that there was still beauty in the mess.
As I took my first bite of the salad we had all created, I let out a sigh of satisfaction. The flavors melded together in a way that surprised and delighted me. I glanced around the table, noting the smiles on everyone’s faces as they dug into their plates.
“Joyce,” Richard said between bites, “this is incredible. I can’t believe you all came up with this using all ingredients from the farmers market.”
“Me neither.” Gabriella chuckled. “But it was a group effort.” She high-fived Elijah.
Elijah nodded enthusiastically, his mouth full of food. “Yeah, Grandma Joyce picked out the chilies.”
Richard gave a friendly nod in my direction.
As we sat there, chatting and laughing while the sun dipped below the horizon, I knew that this was a moment I would treasure for years to come. In the company of my new makeshift family. In that moment, it felt like everything would fall into place. Eventually. In the good days ahead. I just wanted them to get here already.
Chapter 20
I stood in the Dollar General store, clutching a few home decor items and air fresheners. The place was nothing fancy, but it had a charm that suited my new life on a budget. I picked up a simple picture frame and a pretty tablecloth with a floral design. Maybe it wasn’t much, but I hoped these little touches would make the duplex feel like a welcoming, stable home.
Gabriella would like this, I thought as I snapped a photo of the tablecloth with my phone and sent it to her. Her reply pinged with a thumbs-up emoji and aLooks great, Ms. Joyce!message. Our text conversation continued back and forth until she finally wrote,You’ve got this! Don’t be nervous. APS will see u r doing your best.
Her words were a comfort, but my hands still shook like a chihuahua as I approached the cash register. The cashier, a young woman with a friendly smile, noted, “I haven’t seen you here before. You new to the area?”
“Sort of,” I replied, trying to force a smile, but my nerves were so rattled, it came out more like a grimace. “I spent summers here when I was younger.”
“Welcome back, then,” she said cheerily. We exchanged a bitmore small talk, but I could hardly focus on her words. This afternoon’s visit from Adult Protective Services weighed heavily on my mind.
“Have a nice day,” the cashier said as she handed me my receipt. I mumbled a thank-you and hurried out of the store, my heart pounding.
I was hoping for a chance to explain that this was all a huge misunderstanding from the very beginning of the visit. Then, hopefully, I would exchange another pleasant goodbye as the caseworker left with a smile.
Back at home, I plugged in the air fresheners and felt a renewed surge of determination. I went through each room, covering each surface and checking every nook and cranny with disinfectant wipes. The faint scent of lavender filled the air as I moved from room to room, thanks to my new diffusers. I made sure all the light switches worked and that the water ran clear from every faucet.
“Everything is going to be perfect,” I murmured to myself, trying to calm my nerves.
In the laundry room, I checked on Celestia again. She was covered with blankets, so as not the raise suspicions about my spending. I was certain splurges weren’t allowed, if the APS folks went by the same book as the SLAP group.
The doorbell rang.
I froze, my heart clawing its way out of my chest. Taking a deep breath, I wiped my hands on my apron and answered it.
“Hello, Ms. Hicks,” said the woman standing on my porch. She was dressed in a crisp navy suit, white blouse, and black kitten heels. Her stern expression reminded me of a tax auditor—someone who wouldn’t hesitate to point out any flaws. “I’m Anya Bryson from Adult Protective Services. You were referred to us by theSenior Living Advocacy Program, and I’m here to ensure your living situation is safe and meets your needs. May I come in?”
My knees went weak with nerves. Anya wasn’t the same person I’d talked to a few days earlier when I’d reluctantly agreed to the appointment.
