Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Okay, so I’m good at shopping. We’ve already covered that.”
Mom laughed. “Yes, you are, but that is not my point. You have always been a leader, an organizer, a planner. You have the gift of being able to convince people to do things they don’t want to do. That isn’t easy, Saylor. It’s special.”
It was April. There were no Christmas lists on Salvation Army trees for me to go take and fulfill.
I nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
She picked up her butter knife again. “You are more than you see. But for so long, you let someone else be your light. It’s your time to shine, baby.”
I left the kitchen as I mulled it over. What had I liked about that other than feeling less guilty for all I had? I’d enjoyed the planning, organizing, and giving back. I wanted to do it again the next year, but the boys talked me out of it. Then, the teenage years set in, and the trees had been forgotten.
Sinking down onto the edge of my bed, I ran through every charity I could think of that I could donate my time to. Then, I picked up my phone and searched until I found one that sparked my interest.
A local program that provided free clothes for those in need.
Threads of Love and Hope was funded and stocked from donations. I looked through their photos online and cringed at some of the poor displays. That wasn’t appealing at all. Sure, it was free, but if a young mom, with three kids to clothe, needed some help, shouldn’t she have a better option than this? A place that didn’t feel so…desperate?
Smiling, I set my phone down. I had an idea.
Six
Saylor
The wild blond hair that flipped up in messy curls all over was the first thing I spotted when I walked into Vapiano. Gathe had called to see where I was, and when I told him I’d be meeting with a lady at a clothes closet downtown, he’d asked if I wanted to have lunch. His pale green eyes met mine, and he grinned. I walked past the hostess stand and to the booth he was seated at.
“Hey, stranger,” he said teasingly.
I slipped in across from him. “That is not my fault. You’ve been busy.”
He leaned forward “You have turned down five”—he held up his fingers as if I needed a demonstration—“of my invitations to get together somewhere.”
I took the linen napkin from the table and placed it in my lap. “All five times, you were at Bane’s,” I replied. “You invited me here. And, voilà, here I am.”
He groaned and leaned back in his seat. “How much longer are you going to do this? Halo is married to Bane. That kid is his now. And, well, Saylor, you don’t want to hear this, but you are gonna like her. I swear it.”
Eh, doubt that. And not because I thought she was a bitch. Simply because she was everything I was not. She was the bird. I was the dog. I didn’t like being the dog.
“Let’s not discuss that,” I replied. “I want to hear about something else. Something that doesn’t involve the last name Cash.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Fine,” he conceded. “Why don’t you tell me what a clothes closet is and why you are meeting at one?”
I approved of this topic change. Seeing as I basically had no friends, I hadn’t been able to talk about it or my ideas. And since I had spoken to Sister Mena on the phone, I had spent the past five days making all kinds of outlines and graphs, drawing up ideas, and finding examples online, and I’d put it all neatly in the binder, which was currently on the passenger seat of my car.
“It is a charity that provides clothes for those who can’t afford it. They are given donations, much like thrift stores, except they give it away, not sell it, and they also receive monthly monetary donations to help stock it with new and used items,” I explained. “But right now, it just has items in large boxes, piled against the wall. There are some racks, but they have so many things crammed on them that it is difficult to look through. It is less appealing than a thrift store, and you know how I feel about those.
“I just think that if Joe off the street, who might rely on the shelter in town for somewhere to sleep, wants to come in and get a new pair of pants or a shirt, he deserves something nicer to walk into. Less degrading. If Jane, who has kids she needs to clothe and has fallen on hard times, needs some help, wouldn’t it be nicer for her to come into a place that feels clean and organized, where it’s easy to find things?”