Free Mission of Hope by Allie Pleiter Page B

long, narrow tables that now filled what used to be the front parlor. “We already feed sixty or so at a time at these standing tables. With a little help, we might be able to add benches, but that seems a long way off for now.”
    â€œGracious,” said Mrs. Hastings, gripping the hankie that had been her constant companion for the visit. “Eating standing?”
    â€œWhen one is thankful to eat at all, sitting or standing hardly seems to matter,” replied Reverend Bauers.
    â€œIt is an amazing thing,” Nora said as they walked down the hallway. “You’d think feeding all those people would be chaos. But it seems quite orderly. People seem grateful and very kind.”
    â€œI suppose,” Mrs. Hastings said, “that might depend on your definition of order. And they certainly ought to be grateful. Free hot meals.” Her phrases were kind, her tone was not. Quinn bit back the retort he would have liked to offer.
    Surprisingly, Nora stepped in where he’d been silent. “I think they’d much rather be paying customers, earning their own keep,” she said. “They’re no happier to be out of their homes and out of their jobs than Mama and Papa would be. They weren’t even given tents like at the other camps. That’s hardly their fault. Everyone has suffered.”
    Quinn wondered if Nora was as aware of Mrs. Hastings’s expression as he was. The woman bore a look Quinn had come to recognize over the time since the earthquake. The unspoken theory that folks had brought the earthquake down upon themselves. It made no sense, of course, for the Grace House kitchen fell down just as fast as a brothel kitchen half a mile away. ReverendBauers said those society types had “hoarded their grace and left none for anyone else,” and looking at the sharp angle of Mrs. Hastings’s eyebrows as she surveyed the Grace House pantries, Quinn thought the description fit. He was trying not to judge, but it was mighty hard.
    Reverend Bauers pointed to the near-empty pantry shelves. “Our need is great, as you can see. Even the staples are hard to come by.”
    â€œBut I hear food and goods are pouring in from all over the country. They tell us the camps are in fine shape. Money has been donated,” Mrs. Hastings argued.
    â€œThe official camps are indeed doing well, and it gladdens my heart to see it. But too many are struggling in places like Dolores Park, and we can’t turn our backs on those souls. Distribution to those in need is still nowhere near fast enough.”
    Yet, Quinn’s mind silently added. He had Nora’s second list from the message post, and he had an appointment with Major Simon late this afternoon.
    â€œThings have been finding their way, Mrs. Hastings,” Nora offered. “Just this week I learned of some medical supplies finding their way into Dolores Park to help a little boy. Little miracles happen every day as people help each other out.” She turned her smile full force to the woman, and Quinn felt a twinge of ridiculous hope that her charming smile would one day be turned to him. “Can you see the good a woman of your compassion and influence might be able to achieve? I just know you could work wonders.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the piece of her father’s ledger. “There’s a post in Dolores Park. People have been tacking up requests on it, and I’ve copied them down.” She handedMrs. Hastings the list. “See? It’s nothing so hard to get. Everyday things.”
    â€œI’m flattered you hold me in such high regard, Miss Longstreet. And ladies have been shredding petticoats into bandages since the first day. I’m not at all convinced there’s that much to go around. And Dolores Park is…” The woman stopped short of the remark she was obviously thinking.
    Nora simply stood in front of the lady, hands folded, silent. Quinn,