She tuned back in to the end of Eleanor’s reply.
There’d been a fire in town?
Where?
But how could she ask without it being obvious she’d zoned out for most of Eleanor’s explanation?
As if sensing her dilemma, Luis stepped in. “House fires are always frightening, but in an apartment building the danger is much higher. At least only two units were damaged. It is a shame, though, that our Syrian family has suffered yet another challenge after all they have been through.”
There’d been a fire in the Shabos’ apartment?
A jolt of shock ricocheted through her.
“What happened?”
“There was an electrical fire in an adjacent unit. Both units will have to be vacated for repairs.”
As a paramedic with contacts in the emergency community, Luis would know the details of the fire—but was he privy to information about the Shabos’ status?
“Where are they staying?”
Eleanor rejoined the conversation. “Anna Williams is giving them her annex for a week. It’s booked after that, but hopefully they’ll be back in their apartment by then. You know Anna, don’t you, my dear?”
An image of an older woman materialized in her mind. “I think we’ve met. She’s involved with the Harbor Point cranberry nut cake business, isn’t she?”
“She’s more than involved. She runs it. I don’t know what Tracy would do without her. The farm is more than enough to keep that young woman busy.” Eleanor touched her arm. “I understand you’ve taken on the task of teaching our adopted family English. God bless you, my dear.”
“I will second that.” Luis laid his napkin in his lap. “It is hard to be in a new country and not know the language.”
“I was happy to do my part. So many people had already pitched in to help.”
“And now Anna is filling the latest need. What a blessing it is to live in a town where people care about each other.”
“Amen to that.” Luis lifted his empty china teacup.
Eleanor hoisted her cup too. “Let’s just hope the apartment is ready for the Shabos before Anna’s paying guests arrive. Otherwise, our wonderful clerics will be scrambling to find them new accommodations.”
“I’m sure it will all work out.” Jeannette forced up the corners of her mouth. “Now let me get your tea brewing.”
She retreated to the prep area and went about filling the tea orders—but the rote task left her mind free to mull over the conversation with Eleanor and Luis.
At this point, the Shabos must be feeling like Job had in the midst of his trials.
She could relate—although the breadth of their losses was even more immense than hers had been.
And they didn’t need any more challenges or disruptions in their life—or their living quarters.
You could offer them a place to stay if they end up homeless again, Jeannette.
Her stomach knotted.
Yes, she could. There was a futon in her otherwise empty spare bedroom, and her couch had a hide-a-bed. Her home wasn’t set up to welcome visitors—but she could accommodate two adults and a child in an emergency.
Except she didn’t want anyone invading her house—or her heart.
She stuck another china teapot under the spigot on the hot water dispenser, flipped the switch . . . and took a deep breath.
There was no reason to get anxious about this situation yet. The Shabos’ unit might be ready for occupancy sooner than anyone expected.
So why not put this dilemma on the back burner, see what happened over the next week? This whole thing could blow over.
And if it didn’t?
She’d deal with it then.
The boiling water splashed, burning her hand, and she jerked the teapot back as she flipped off the spigot.
An omen for what might happen if she continued to get involved in other people’s lives, perhaps?
No.
Those kinds of superstitions were foolish.
Yet the warning did seem providential.
These past few weeks had thrown her a series of curves. Disrupted her placid existence. Awakened longings she thought she’d long ago put to rest.
And she didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
She set the pot down and picked up another one to fill.
For three years, she’d kept to herself—and she had no regrets. The quiet life she’d created suited her perfectly. She hadn’t wanted a handsome new neighbor or appealing little girls or shell-shocked refugees or abandoned kittens complicating her world.
So how had she gotten herself into this mess, anyway?
“Ignoring an obvious need would be wrong.”
She turned on the spigot again as Charley’s comment from weeks ago echoed in her mind—and gave her the answer. He may have offered that sentiment as a philosophical musing, but the truth was, that’s how she was wired. She hadn’t been born a recluse—and she’d been raised to help those facing hardship.
That was why she was getting tangled up in a bunch of people’s lives.
And unless she wanted to walk away from everything she believed, she was stuck for now. She’d have to pitch in. Do what had to be done.
But after all this was over—and it would be soon—she was going to return to a life centered on her farm, where her days were quiet and safe and predictable . . . and there was no more danger of losing anyone she loved.
She turned off the water and removed the pot from under the spigot, careful this go-round to pay attention and avoid any more splashes.
Getting burned was the pits.
And while she’d always liked Tennyson’s poetry, she no longer believed in his most famous sentiment.
It wasn’t better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
19
“Why are we going to church so early?”
As Molly posed the question for the third time in the past hour, Logan unbuckled her harness and helped her out of the car.
She must not be buying his explanation.
But he couldn’t tell her the truth.
Admitting he’d risen early to see Jeannette at church might not be smart, given his niece’s constant chatter about ’Nette since they’d spent last Tuesday together.
Molly could get the wrong idea.
Or the right one.
And he didn’t want to encourage any matchmaking from a five-year-old.
However . . . he hadn’t caught sight of Jeannette once since the night she’d taken the abandoned cat home, and while she’d sent a few text messages and photos, she hadn’t issued an invitation for them to visit . . . or answered her phone when he’d called to ask if they could drop by . . . or offered to bring the cat over to his house.
Bottom line, he wanted to see her.
Molly might even be able to charm her into suggesting a get-together.
Yet another reason for their early church attendance—and another admission he didn’t intend to make.
“I told you, sweetie—I have a long list today and I want to get an early start.”
“What do you have to do?”
She would ask that.
“I have to cut the grass and clean up the house and . . . uh . . . a bunch of other stuff. We could take Toby for a walk on the beach later too, if you’d like.”
“Can ’Nette come?”