yesterday?”
“Fine.” Visiting with her sister’s two hyper kids always drained her. But Cassidy loved their lack of inhibitions, envied the freedom they enjoyed. What she hadn’t enjoyed was her sister’s news about their father.
“Is something wrong?”
“Why?” She kept her back to him, poured a dollop of cream in her mug, tapped the side of the coffeepot as if that would hurry it. Don’t say a word.
“Because you’re doing it again.”
“Again?” She did turn then, scowled at him. “Doing what?”
“Fiddling. Fidgeting. Trying your best not to look at me.”
“Oh.” Unable to wait a moment longer, Cassidy slid her cup under the dripping spout while she poured from the half-full carafe and filled her cup. With the carafe back in place she took a swig of the fresh brew and closed her eyes, waiting for it to rein in her temper.
Her determination to stifle her criticism cracked. She set the cup down as gently as possible, then turned to face him.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” Ty frowned, glancing down at his clothes as if they were the problem.
But then maybe they were. Maybe his need for control was an attempt to keep himself clean, to make sure nothing negative or distasteful touched his antiseptic world.
After a moment he seemed to realize he’d missed the point.
“I think I’m going to need one of those, too.” He poured himself a cup, walked to a stool and perched on the top. Once seated he studied her with a pensive glance.
“You look like you want to hit me. Unclench your fingers and tell me what I’ve done wrong now.”
“What are those hideous signs?”
“Ground rules for the Haven.”
“No running.” Cassidy shook her head. “What is this, kindergarten?”
“With all the snow, the floors get wet and with that tile—” He held his palms up. “It gets slippery.”
“No pets?” She slapped her hands on her hips and squeezed, trying to temper her anger. “Are you telling me someone actually brought an animal inside this shelter?”
“Not yet but—”
“Lights out at eleven o’clock?”
His face actually brightened. “That’s for when we get the beds open. So that everyone will know what time—What?”
“If we finally get someone in the door, I doubt they’ll stay after reading your rules.”
“We have to have some rules, Cassidy. You must recognize that.”
“Of course. But do we have to plaster them all over the walls? This place is supposed to welcome people and when I walked in and got smacked in the face with all those ‘do nots’ I nearly turned around and left.” She took another drink. “And I work here!”
“You never approve of anything I do.” He picked up his cup and headed for the door, hurt by her disapproval.
“Not true. I understand that everyone has to abide by a set of regulations or we’ll have chaos. But can’t we put the rules for sleeping here in the area where they belong? And could we forget some of the others until needs arise?”
His face stiffened; anger glinted from the blue irises.
“It’s too bad Elizabeth didn’t hire you to run this place. You seem to know exactly how it should be done.”
Cassidy wished she’d stayed home.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“When you first came here I had the impression you could hardly wait to get out. Now suddenly you’re involving yourself in all aspects of the Haven.”
Which were none of her business.
Cassidy got the point, but she couldn’t let it go.
“This place, the people who come here—they’re not simply people to feed.” She struggled to clarify for herself as much as for him. “When I first came here they were all nameless, faceless people, but now there’s Mac and Irina and Red and Jack.” You.
“And you want to do your best for them.”
“I want to do more than that. When a homeless woman or man sits down at the table, I want them to experience a meal they won’t forget. I want them to enjoy it,
“Fine.” Visiting with her sister’s two hyper kids always drained her. But Cassidy loved their lack of inhibitions, envied the freedom they enjoyed. What she hadn’t enjoyed was her sister’s news about their father.
“Is something wrong?”
“Why?” She kept her back to him, poured a dollop of cream in her mug, tapped the side of the coffeepot as if that would hurry it. Don’t say a word.
“Because you’re doing it again.”
“Again?” She did turn then, scowled at him. “Doing what?”
“Fiddling. Fidgeting. Trying your best not to look at me.”
“Oh.” Unable to wait a moment longer, Cassidy slid her cup under the dripping spout while she poured from the half-full carafe and filled her cup. With the carafe back in place she took a swig of the fresh brew and closed her eyes, waiting for it to rein in her temper.
Her determination to stifle her criticism cracked. She set the cup down as gently as possible, then turned to face him.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” Ty frowned, glancing down at his clothes as if they were the problem.
But then maybe they were. Maybe his need for control was an attempt to keep himself clean, to make sure nothing negative or distasteful touched his antiseptic world.
After a moment he seemed to realize he’d missed the point.
“I think I’m going to need one of those, too.” He poured himself a cup, walked to a stool and perched on the top. Once seated he studied her with a pensive glance.
“You look like you want to hit me. Unclench your fingers and tell me what I’ve done wrong now.”
“What are those hideous signs?”
“Ground rules for the Haven.”
“No running.” Cassidy shook her head. “What is this, kindergarten?”
“With all the snow, the floors get wet and with that tile—” He held his palms up. “It gets slippery.”
“No pets?” She slapped her hands on her hips and squeezed, trying to temper her anger. “Are you telling me someone actually brought an animal inside this shelter?”
“Not yet but—”
“Lights out at eleven o’clock?”
His face actually brightened. “That’s for when we get the beds open. So that everyone will know what time—What?”
“If we finally get someone in the door, I doubt they’ll stay after reading your rules.”
“We have to have some rules, Cassidy. You must recognize that.”
“Of course. But do we have to plaster them all over the walls? This place is supposed to welcome people and when I walked in and got smacked in the face with all those ‘do nots’ I nearly turned around and left.” She took another drink. “And I work here!”
“You never approve of anything I do.” He picked up his cup and headed for the door, hurt by her disapproval.
“Not true. I understand that everyone has to abide by a set of regulations or we’ll have chaos. But can’t we put the rules for sleeping here in the area where they belong? And could we forget some of the others until needs arise?”
His face stiffened; anger glinted from the blue irises.
“It’s too bad Elizabeth didn’t hire you to run this place. You seem to know exactly how it should be done.”
Cassidy wished she’d stayed home.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“When you first came here I had the impression you could hardly wait to get out. Now suddenly you’re involving yourself in all aspects of the Haven.”
Which were none of her business.
Cassidy got the point, but she couldn’t let it go.
“This place, the people who come here—they’re not simply people to feed.” She struggled to clarify for herself as much as for him. “When I first came here they were all nameless, faceless people, but now there’s Mac and Irina and Red and Jack.” You.
“And you want to do your best for them.”
“I want to do more than that. When a homeless woman or man sits down at the table, I want them to experience a meal they won’t forget. I want them to enjoy it,
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