Who Is My Shelter? (10 page)

We all opened our eyes, grinning a little at Josh's “guy prayer.” I leaned toward him and stage whispered, “But remember, you can call me Gabby like everyone else.”

Edesa's husband rolled his eyes and turned red. “I know, I know! It's just—maybe I should call you Miss Gabby like the kids do, or Sister Gabby, like my wife.”

“Whatever, Josh.” I shook my head and chuckled. “Okay, thanks, everybody, for getting together for our first-ever house meeting. I thought it'd be a good idea to have a regular time when we can work out the ‘nitty-gritties,' as Josh called them, of living together in this building. To be honest, this is all new to me—”

“Tell me about it,” Precious snickered. “Ain't none of us done this before.”

“Exactly. Which is why it might be good to have a meeting once a week for a while to take care of things right away. Is everyone okay with that? Is Tuesday evening good for everyone?”

“Uhh, not really,” Josh said. “I could do it on Tuesday one more week because Mr. Douglass is out of town on a business trip, but usually I go to the men's Bible study that he and my dad are part of on Tuesday nights. Wednesdays would be better.”

“Okay. Tuesday next week, after that—Wednesdays okay for the rest of you?”

Precious snorted. “Ain't like we all got those little black books with lots of appointments in 'em. Tuesday . . . Wednesday . . . don't make no difference to me.”

That settled, we moved on to making a list of things to talk about. A laundry schedule for using the battered washer and dryer in the basement . . . the best way to leave messages for Josh if something needed fixing . . . rules for the kids, like cutting off loud music after ten p.m. and not running or yelling in the stairwell.

“But what about the other tenants who still live in the building?” Tanya huffed. “The guy who lives above us had
his
music on till one o'clock the other night! I banged on the ceiling with the broom handle, but it didn't change nothin'. And sometimes they be yellin' at each other like they was at a dogfight or somethin'.”

The other tenants—that was going to be tricky, since three units were still occupied. I'd met them all briefly when I'd delivered my “I'm the new owner” letter, explaining that we were turning the building into second-stage housing for homeless single moms and would not be renewing their leases. They weren't happy about it, though I'd tried to sweeten the deal by saying if they found another place before their lease was up, they could move out without any penalties. “Maybe we need a tenants' meeting of everybody,” I said, thinking out loud.

“Or maybe
you
could just tell them what's what, since you the landlady.” Tanya folded her arms across her small chest. “
I
don't see no need to meet with them other folks.”

I eyed Josh. “Okay, okay . . . but, Josh, since you're the property manager for the building, maybe you and I could do it together?” Hated to admit it, but I might get a better hearing with some of these tenants if a man backed me up. And Josh spoke fair Spanish too.

Josh nodded, a bit reluctantly. “Well, yeah, sure, but I couldn't do it till Saturday. I've got midterms this week. Speaking of which, are we almost done? I still need to study tonight. Edesa, too, right, honey? While Gracie's asleep, you know.”

I still had a few more items on my agenda. But we'd said an hour, so better keep it. “Okay, guess anything else can wait till next week. Just one more thing. Precious suggested we have a house blessing this weekend. Maybe invite Manna House staff and volunteers to come pray. Would Saturday evening be okay? Should we make it a pot—”

I was drowned out by voices yelling out in the stairwell, accompanied by loud crashes as if somebody was throwing things. “An'
stay out
, you creep!” a woman screamed, followed by the slam of a door that rattled my teeth.

“You can't kick me out, woman!” A man's voice. Pounding on the door. “Unlock the door this minute, you—!” A string of nasty words ran up and down the stairwell.

Edesa's eyes went big. “Oh no, Gracie will wake up!”

Tanya rolled her eyes. “What'd I tell ya?”

Josh leaped to his feet and strode to the door. “I'll take care of it,” he muttered.

Guess some things couldn't wait till Saturday.

chapter 9

The next thing we heard, the irate tenant from 2A was yelling at Josh that it was none of his
blankety-blank
business. That's when the rest of us stuck our noses in his business. As we piled into the hall, I leaned over the railing and saw P.J., Paul, Sabrina, and Sammy craning their necks from below, listening to the whole mess.

Okay, that's IT!

I don't know if it was me reminding the young man—he had Mediterranean good looks, olive skin, dark hair and eyes, maybe Italian?—that I was the owner of the building, that I lived on the premises, and I was ready to call the police if he and his “woman” didn't quit disturbing the peace, or whether it was being surrounded by the whole motley crew of us from 3A, 1A, and 1B, but the young man suddenly swore, thundered down the stairs, and disappeared out the front door.

Peace settled on the stairwell like pixie dust. We all looked at one another. The kids started to snicker from below.

“You hush!” Precious hissed over the banister. “That young man don't need us to laugh at him. He needs some serious prayer. Her too.” She jerked a thumb at the door of 2A.

“
Sí
,” Edesa agreed. “Right now.” And she sat down on the stairs, motioning the rest of us to gather around. To my astonishment, she closed her eyes and began to pour out a prayer on behalf of the couple in 2A. I noticed that the door across the hall to apartment 2B opened a crack, then quietly shut again.

On Wednesday the clouds finally unloaded and the wind off the lake spun the rain around like tiny whiplashes, so I gave both boys and Sammy a ride to school, though I felt awkward not offering a ride to Sabrina, whose high school was in a different direction. I learned later she took one look at the weather and stayed home.

I half expected to see Lucy and Dandy when I finally blew into Manna House at nine, shaking rain off my umbrella. But when I signed in, Angela said she hadn't seen her. However, more residents than usual seemed to be hanging around Shepherd's Fold this morning, talking, playing cards, or just sitting. Even the TV room was crowded. The weather had put a damper on making the effort to show up at the employment office, social security, or public aid—at least until the rain stopped. So where was Lucy? Funny how I seemed to worry more about her in weather like this now that she had my mother's dog than I did before.

Delores Enriquez and Estelle Williams were already setting up the portable nursing station in the dining room as I walked through to my office. Still hadn't found out what happened last Sunday when Harry Bentley went to the police station after Matty Fagan's arrest, but Estelle was busy taking names to see the nurse and setting out skeins of yarn on one of the tables for her knitting club, so I'd have to catch her later.

Somehow the dampness had chilled me to the bone, and I had a hard time staying warm in my office. After several futile phone calls trying to find a retreat center within a couple hours drive of Chicago where I could take some of the residents for a Fall Getaway, I headed for the kitchen to make some hot tea with lemon—hoping to ward off a cold—and ran into Estelle spooning sugar into her coffee. Although with Estelle, it was more like adding coffee to her sugar.

“Hey, Estelle.” I turned on the gas under the teakettle. “You know of any retreat centers or cabins on a lake somewhere close, maybe even southern Wisconsin, where I could take some of the ladies for a little getaway this fall? You know, see the fall colors, enjoy nature, stuff like that.”

Estelle raised an eyebrow. “Your latest brain child?”

“Well, sure. People do that all the time in Virginia to see the leaves turning color. Why not here?”

“Uh-huh. Good luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of folks who grow up in the city ain't that comfortable gettin' too close to nature.”

“But maybe that's just because they don't have the opportunity! That's part of my job as program director, don't you think? To give our residents life skills and new opportunities?”

Estelle chuckled. “Well, like I said, good luck! Especially if you get wet weather like this.”

I was not going to let Estelle rain on my idea. “Then we'll just cozy up to a roaring fire in a big stone fireplace and play charades or something. It'll still be fun.” The teakettle whistled so I poured boiling water over a tea bag and scrounged in the big industrial-size refrigerator for a bottle of lemon juice. “Hey, got two more things I want to ask you. Got a minute?”

Estelle glanced over the counter at the three women laboring over their knitting needles while waiting for the nurse. “If you mean ‘a minute' like sixty seconds.”

I'd think she was just being feisty, except she seemed to be wearing a perpetual grin this morning. What was up with her?

But if she was only going to give me sixty seconds . . . “Can you and Harry come to a house blessing at the House of Hope this Saturday? You know, pray over it, like an official dedication. DaShawn's welcome, too, for that matter. And second—”

“A house blessing?” Her eyes lit up. “Is that like a party, except to bless the building and the people? Who else you invitin'?”

“Well, I'm not sure who all. Manna House staff for sure, hopefully someone from the board, and folks like you and Harry and the Baxters who've been supporting this idea. It's going to be a potluck, too, so can you bring a dish?”

Now Estelle was chuckling again, almost to herself. “Uh-huh, that's it. That's the perfect time, all the right people . . .” She looked at me almost as an afterthought. “Yep, yep, we'll be there. I'll bring some food too. Uh-huh, couldn't be better . . . okay, okay, I see ya wavin' at me, Bertie! I'm comin'.” And Estelle scooted out of the kitchen with her coffee cup toward the table of knitters.

Rats
. Didn't get to ask her what happened last Sunday! Maybe I should just give Mr. B a call and ask him.

When I got home from work, I called Philip and said the boys would like to visit him that evening if he wasn't too tired. “Tired? Why would I be tired? Just sitting here when I should be working.” He sounded frustrated. “Sure, sure, bring the boys. I'll be glad to see them. Just an hour, though, okay?”

I'd boiled a chicken the night before, so I made a pot of chicken noodle soup for the boys and at the last minute packed up the leftover soup to take to Philip. I pushed aside the incongruity of taking chicken soup to my estranged husband. It couldn't be easy cooking for himself with one arm in a cast. I'd do the same thing for Mr. B or anyone else who was laid up, wouldn't I? It didn't have to mean anything.

The rain had let up and the last few rays of sunset poked through the patchy clouds. The boys and I showed up at the penthouse shortly after seven and had a moment of déjà vu when Will Nissan opened the door, wearing the same faded jeans, gym shoes, and baseball cap as if he hadn't taken them off since the last time we saw him. “Hey, Mrs. Fairbanks. Mr. Philip said you guys were coming over. How ya doin', P.J.? Hey, Paul.” The young man grinned as if genuinely glad to see us.

Couldn't say the feeling was mutual. Will had been here the last time my sons had come to see their dad. Couldn't they spend some time with their father without having to share him with some eager-beaver college kid who was probably just using Philip to get an internship or something? And I noticed it was “Mr. Philip” now instead of “Mr. Fairbanks.”

But Paul, ever Mr. Friendly, gave the young man a high five and said, “Hey, Will! Find your missing aunt yet?” Even P.J. nodded a greeting before heading for the living room.

“Haven't been looking!” Will called after them. “Pretty much a lost cause, I think,” he muttered to me under his breath. But he must have picked up on my reticence. “Sorry if I'm intruding. I was in the neighborhood to see Nana, she's still in the hospital, and thought I'd drop by to see how Mr. Philip was doing, see if he wanted to play cards or something. But, uh, since you guys are here . . .”

He left his comment hanging, as if waiting for me to give him a thumbs-up or thumbs-down.
That's right. Make me the bad guy
. On the other hand—why was I worried about him being here, anyway? The boys didn't seem to mind. Might even help Philip and me avoid any awkward conversations. Let Philip make the call if he wanted to spend time alone with the boys.

Which is what I said to Will. “Philip might want to spend some time with the boys—but that's up to him.” I smiled sweetly. “Would you tell him I'm heating up some chicken noodle soup? How about you, would you like some?”