“I’ll show you,” Carla volunteered, and led them to the hallway outside the kitchen at the back of the store. She picked up a broom handle that had a large metal hook in place of the bristles and with a practiced move used it to grab the latch to a set of accordion stairs that folded down from the ceiling.
“I’m not seeing Mavis or Beth going up and down these babies,” Lauren said as she stepped onto the first of the steep, narrow steps and began to climb.
Harriet followed and was soon standing in the large attic that covered the entire square footage of the store below. Three eight-foot tables were lined up against the front wall of the building, bolts of fabric wrapped in plastic stacked six bolts high on each table. Plastic storage bins were neatly stowed under each table.
“Here’s a bin marked ‘tablecloths,’” Harriet said as she opened the container and verified that it was, indeed, full of tablecloths.
“Are we having a party?” Lauren asked as she took the two cloths Harriet handed her and spread them on the floor. Harriet took two more and laid them next to Lauren’s.
“Let’s stack the tables as high as we can, and then we can start putting bolts on the cloths on the floor.”
“Beth told us to bring these tables up to you ladies,” Duane said as he fell through the stair opening along with the table he was dragging up the stairs. Ronald followed, dragging another table that was obviously being pushed from below. The two men were red-faced from the effort.
“Thanks, guys. I’m not sure how many more you have, but I think with what’s here it’ll be enough for now.”
Lauren looked at Harriet as she spoke. Harriet was pretty sure they were thinking the same thing she was-the two men looked like heart attacks waiting to happen. Whatever they had been doing before they became homeless it clearly hadn’t involved manual labor.
“I think we should do some sort of bucket brigade-style line,” Tom was saying when Harriet and Lauren returned to the fabric sales room where the others were milling about.
“Tom’s right,” Beth agreed. “We need an organized plan. Otherwise, we’re going to be getting in each other’s way.”
“Marjory has some wheeled carts we use for stocking,” Carla offered. She went to the small room where Marjory unpacked new fabric as it arrived. She came back wheeling a flat-topped cart that could accommodate two stacks of fabric bolts side-by-side lengthwise and fit easily in even the narrowest aisles in the store.
“There are two more of these in the packing room,” she said.
Connie quickly organized the volunteer team into four groups. Ronald, Duane, and Beth loaded fabric onto the carts. Joyce and Mavis pushed the carts to the stairs and back. Carla handed bolts to Lauren, Tom and Harriet to carry up the steep stairs.
When Robin arrived, she went into the attic and received the fabric from the person climbing the stairs then put it onto a table or cloth. To the degree possible, everyone was trying to keep groupings of fabric together the same way they were displayed on the sales floor, in the hope that it would make setting up downstairs easier when the flood was over.
“Sounds like it’s still raining out there,” Harriet said when she reached the bottom of the stairs for what felt like the millionth time.
Tom came up behind her and pointed toward the kitchen window.
“It’s getting worse,” he said as rain sheeted against the glass.
Before Harriet could look, she heard the jingle of the front door bells and turned to see who’d come into the store. A gust of wind tore the door from the hand of the visitor, slamming it hard against the wall. A large form covered from head to toe in wet yellow oilcloth lurched through the opening, a dark blue plastic bin held with two hands.
Whoever it was set the box down and scraped the hood from their head. Jorge’s black hair was plastered against his forehead and his face was wet, but his smile warmed the room.
“I heard you all were rescuing Marjory’s inventory from the coming flood, and I thought you could use some sustenance.”
“You are a godsend, my man,” Duane boomed as he edged closer to the food box.
“Where do you want to eat?” Jorge asked.
“Let’s go to the bigger classroom,” Robin suggested.
Carla brought paper cups from the kitchen then a pitcher she’d filled from the tap. Jorge unloaded pork tacos, beef taquitos, chicken and cheese quesadillas and a big container of guacamole.
“This is a real nice thing you’re doing for Marjory,” he said when he’d finished laying out the food. “That river looks real angry. There’s a group of people at the Sandwich Board moving stuff. They’re hauling tables and chairs away in a truck.”
“We appreciate the food,” Aunt Beth said.
“It was the least I could do. Robin stopped in to order take-out for her husband to pick up later, and she told me what you were doing. If the power goes out, I’ll lose all the fresh stuff anyway, so I might as well let you folks get some good from it.”
As the group continued thanking Jorge for the food, Carla tugged on Harriet’s arm and glanced toward the kitchen.
“I’m going to make some tea,” Harriet said and stood up. “Would anyone like some?”
Several hands went up.
“I’ll help you,” Carla said.
“Come to
“Me, too.” Lauren got up before Harriet could protest. “Okay, spill,” she said to Carla when the trio was safely out of earshot in the kitchen.
Harriet filled the electric water kettle and pushed the on button. Carla looked at her, and when she received an affirmative nod, she spoke.
“I came into the front room to get some paper and a pen for Wendy to play with. Miss Beth was in the bathroom, and everyone else was in the hallway or on the stairs or something.”
“And?” Lauren prompted.
“And I saw that guy in the purple sweatshirt trying to get into the cash register.”
“Are you sure he wasn’t just looking for a pen or something?” Harriet asked.
“He was definitely trying to get into the register,” Carla insisted, her cheeks turning red as she said it. “He was turning the key and pulling on the drawer.”
“Marjory leaves the key in the register?” Lauren said.
“Yeah,” Carla replied. “You have to hit a number code to be able to turn the key from locked to unlock.”
“I guess we shouldn’t be surprised,” Harriet said. “He
“It was weird, though. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I watched him for a minute, and the other guy saw what he was doing and came over and made him stop. Course, that guy seems like he has better clothes and stuff. Maybe he can still afford a moral compass.”
Harriet looked at Carla for a moment without speaking. Her young friend’s insights surprised her sometimes.
“When we get back to work, I’ll tell my aunt to keep and eye on him,” she said. “Thanks for telling me.”
Carla looked at her feet.
“It was weird, so I thought you should know.”
“You did the right thing,” Lauren said and patted her on the back in a rare show of support. “So, who wanted what tea,” she asked as the water started boiling.
“What did you find out about Marjory?” Jorge was asking Robin when Harriet, Lauren and Carla returned to the classroom carrying two mugs of steaming tea each.
“Nothing new,” Robin said. “I have a call into her assigned social worker, but when you’re on a seventy-two- hour hold they cut you off from the outside world. I called a colleague in Seattle, and if we’re still stuck in seventy- two hours, he can go to her hearing with her.”
“What a nightmare,” Tom said. “And you have no idea what happened?”
