Endless Chain. Emilie Richards

Sam looked like a man strong and determined enough to weather them. “And it has been successful?”

      “We open once school opens. We’ve spoken to the authorities, and they’ve promised to put us in touch with the parents of all the children who can use our help. The school will bus them here if the parents sign permission slips. We have two donated vans we’ll use to take them home at the end of the afternoon. We have a dozen tutors who have signed up to take shifts, a Catholic nun who has agreed to supervise, and a retired Presbyterian minister who is coordinating transportation and communications with parents.”

      She was impressed. “So many different churches?”

      “It’s our building, but it’s the community’s project. You should have seen how many people turned out on the weekend we painted. People on the roof, people clearing away badly overgrown shrubs, people scrubbing floors.” He seemed to think better of his enthusiasm. “I’m sorry. It’s a subject close to my heart.”

      “Do the tutors speak Spanish?”

      “Unfortunately, no one speaks much. We’re hoping that will change as the community gets more involved. I’m working hard on mine. Right now, if any child needs to know where the bathroom is located, I can direct him in his own language. That’s about it. For good or for bad, I’m afraid it’s an English immersion program.”

      She spoke before she had time to think. “Puedo ayudar cuantas veces me necesiten.” She bent and placed the book back on the shelf.

      “My Spanish must be better than I thought. You just said you wished I would dye my hair green and hire out my services as a belly dancer.”

      She laughed. “I said I could help any time I’m needed. I think that’s a good example. There will be moments when fractured Spanish and good intentions might not be enough. I would be happy to translate.”

      “Be careful what you volunteer for. We say yes with alarming frequency.”

      She straightened. “So it’s part of the sexton’s job to clean La Casa?”

      “Just a lick and a promise once a week, which is all we can afford. The volunteers will do some of it. I suspect I’ll do some of it, too. But even the little the sexton will do extends the job. And you haven’t seen the rest of the church plant. There’s a lot of work here, Elisa.”

      She didn’t have the job yet. She knew it and wondered how to convince him. “If I were a man, would you warn me so many times...Sam?”

      “No.”

      “Then you shouldn’t do it now. I’m capable and willing, and I have excellent references. I hope that’s what you remember when you make your decision.”

      He looked at his watch, then back at her. “Let’s go find that ride. In a couple of hours a horde of caterers and volunteers are heading this way. There’s a party tonight, a Mexican fiesta to raise money for La Casa. It’s something of an unfortunate afterthought, which is why it’s on a weeknight, and it’s going to be chaotic, especially if the rain continues. You’ll want to escape all the prep work. I wish I could.”

      She followed him out, and he locked up. She had said she knew when to be silent, and she did. She didn’t speak, and neither did he. She hoped he was using the time to favorably consider her application.

      When they approached, the quilters were already coming out to the parking lot. Sam stopped just short of the asphalt.

      “Are you working at the nursing home tonight? Or would you be free to come back about seven-thirty to talk to Marvin and shadow him for the rest of the evening?”

      “I don’t work tonight. But either way, I could be here.”

      “We’ll talk again, after you’ve had a chance to see everything the job requires and I’ve had time to organize applications.”

      For the first time she felt real hope that she was going to be hired. Only a small part of her found her own reaction ironic. The part that was not Elisa Martinez seemed to shrivel with every decision she was required to make.

      Several yards in front of them, a woman in a blue sundress got out of a car parked near the others. Sam saw her and gestured. “That’s Tessa MacRae, Helen’s granddaughter. Helen is the woman who insisted I hire you. I’ll ask Tessa to give you a ride. She won’t mind.”

      Elisa had made her statement on the subject. Later they would have to deal with his need to take care of her, but for the moment she was not sad to be offered a ride. The rain had stopped, but she was afraid it had only stopped to gather forces.

      Sam started across the lot, and she followed, skirting puddles. They stopped beside Helen and her granddaughter, who was admiring the quilt Elisa had seen earlier on the frame.

      Sam greeted both women, kissing Tessa on the cheek before he introduced Elisa. “Elisa walked here, and she insists she doesn’t need a ride out to the trailer park on Ella Lane, but I’m insisting otherwise. Would you mind?”

      Elisa spoke up. “Only if it’s no trouble. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

      “I’m taking Gram into Woodstock to buy groceries. I’m sure we go right past the turnoff,” Tessa said.

      Elisa liked Tessa’s voice, which was modulated and low. She was an attractive woman, with brown hair as long as Elisa’s own and a thin face with wide cheekbones. She looked tired, and as they stood in the lot, she put her palms against her back and swayed, as if to minimize pressure. For the first time Elisa realized she was pregnant. The sundress, which fell from a high yoke, had hidden it.

      There was no time to say anything else. A car sped into the parking lot and pulled into a slot several spaces away. Elisa had never been interested in cars, and she was only rarely able to tell one from another. But this was a sports car, low-slung and elegant. The door opened, and a shapely leg appeared, followed by the body to go with it.

      The woman who emerged was nearly as tall as Sam, with dark-red curls that fell past her shoulders, a carefully painted megawatt smile, and white shorts that stopped just shy of revealing. As she approached she was preceded by a scent that Elisa could only recognize as expensive. Nothing about the woman was cheap, although the overall effect flirted with it.

      “Sam.” She went to him and kissed him. The kiss wasn’t long enough to embarrass anyone, but long enough to stake her claim. “I took a taxi to Chevy Chase and borrowed Jenny’s Viper so I wouldn’t have to rent some old wreck at the airport. You remember Jenny O’Donnell? Senator O’Donnell’s daughter? What do you think?”

      She didn’t give him time to answer. She turned to the others. “I’m Christine Fletcher.” She held out her hand to Tessa, then to Helen. “Sam’s fiancée.”

      “We’ve met,” Helen said dryly. “I’ve lost count how many times.”

      “I am so bad with names and faces,” Christine drawled. She turned and thrust her hand at Elisa. “But I know I haven’t met you. I would remember that lovely hair. I’ve wished for hair like that my whole life.”

      “Elisa Martinez.” Elisa put her hand in Christine’s and felt the strength of the other woman’s grip. She also felt something cutting into her fingers. When Christine withdrew her hand, Elisa noted rings, one on each finger except the little one, each with a different flashy gemstone. Her eyes flicked to Christine’s left hand, where a modest diamond resided on the ring finger.

      Elisa wondered if the rings were a message of sorts. The English expression “on one hand” seemed to have been coined for the situation. On one hand Christine Fletcher was a woman of obvious wealth. On the other the fiancée of a man of moderate income.

      “I’m here for the fiesta.” Christine pressed one hand against her chest and lifted the other in the air as she swivelled her hips. “Let the festivities begin.”

      “Me, I’ll be home binding this quilt,” Helen said. “Let’s get to it, Tessa.”