from doing just that—the kindness she’d seen in Theresa Kingston’s gaze the day before. If you could truly know a person just by staring into their eyes, then Sara knew that Theresa was one of the kindest women on earth.
Sara wanted to trust that instinct, but when it came to kindness, she had a hard time. The biggest part of her said she could trust Theresa. But there was a voice, doubtful, reminding her, always, of what could happen if she trusted the wrong person.
She closed her eyes and played the scene through in her head again, tried to figure out what her instincts were telling her.
“I heard you were looking for a place to stay.”
“Hmmm. Maybe.” Which translated to YES! DESPERATELY.
“Well, if you’re interested, I’ve got a vacant apartment in my house. It’s nothing fancy, just a studio apartment with a little kitchenette.”
“Sounds nice, but I’m pretty tight on money right now.” Tight didn’t quite describe it—she saved every last penny she could, and since she didn’t make a lot of pennies, she didn’t have many left over to add to her savings.
Theresa leaned back against the padded back of the booth where she liked to sit. Every other day, the older woman was there, right at 11:00. Come rain or shine, or at least it had been that way for the past six weeks. “Ahhh, but I haven’t told you how much it costs,” Theresa said, smiling.
More than I make here , Sara thought glumly. But she pasted a smile on her face and said, “Sorry . . . I’m just so used to everything being out of my range around here.” And the stuff that wasn’t out of her range, she couldn’t risk taking.
Most landlords didn’t want to rent out apartments without doing a credit check, a background check . . . driver’s license. Sara couldn’t chance any of those.
Somebody called Sara’s name and she glanced over her shoulder, saw one of her co-workers loading plates onto a tray. “Be right there.”
She turned back to Theresa and opened her mouth, but the older woman cut her off.
“Here.” She pressed a napkin into Sara’s hand, a napkin and five dollars. A five-dollar tip, for a cup of coffee. “Just come by and check it out, Sara. Really, I think you’d love it.”
Her instincts told her that Theresa wasn’t any sort of threat to her. Still, in hindsight, Sara should have just thrown the napkin away, finished up her day at the café, and then quietly disappeared. She didn’t need people noticing her. Being nice to her. Being friendly.
When people started being friendly, it meant only one thing.
Time to go.
She no longer trusted her instincts—she couldn’t afford to. The girl she’d once been would have looked at the elderly woman and fallen in love. Theresa looked like Mrs. Claus, complete with a tidy white bun in her hair and rosy cheeks, and was always ready with a kind word or a joke to share.
Sara desperately wanted to accept that kindness.
Setting her jaw, she shoved the napkin in her pocket and hitched her backpack a little higher up on her shoulder. She was going to go back to the roach motel that masqueraded as an apartment. She was going to pack her stuff. And she was going to leave.
In another month or two, it would start getting cooler. Then winter would settle in. Maybe she’d head farther south this time. Someplace warm. Maybe she could get lucky and even find a place halfway . . . well, like home.
“Sara, is that you I hear out there?”
She just barely managed to keep from flinching when she heard Theresa’s voice calling her name. Steeling herself, she pasted a smile on her face and waited as the older woman bustled around the corner of the house, carrying a tray of flowers and beaming.
Huh. People really do beam when they smile that big . . . Theresa set down the tray of flowers and rushed up the brick walkway to greet Sara.
“Oh, I’m so glad you decided to check out the apartment.”
“Actually, I . . .”
But Theresa was a petite, friendly
Sara wanted to trust that instinct, but when it came to kindness, she had a hard time. The biggest part of her said she could trust Theresa. But there was a voice, doubtful, reminding her, always, of what could happen if she trusted the wrong person.
She closed her eyes and played the scene through in her head again, tried to figure out what her instincts were telling her.
“I heard you were looking for a place to stay.”
“Hmmm. Maybe.” Which translated to YES! DESPERATELY.
“Well, if you’re interested, I’ve got a vacant apartment in my house. It’s nothing fancy, just a studio apartment with a little kitchenette.”
“Sounds nice, but I’m pretty tight on money right now.” Tight didn’t quite describe it—she saved every last penny she could, and since she didn’t make a lot of pennies, she didn’t have many left over to add to her savings.
Theresa leaned back against the padded back of the booth where she liked to sit. Every other day, the older woman was there, right at 11:00. Come rain or shine, or at least it had been that way for the past six weeks. “Ahhh, but I haven’t told you how much it costs,” Theresa said, smiling.
More than I make here , Sara thought glumly. But she pasted a smile on her face and said, “Sorry . . . I’m just so used to everything being out of my range around here.” And the stuff that wasn’t out of her range, she couldn’t risk taking.
Most landlords didn’t want to rent out apartments without doing a credit check, a background check . . . driver’s license. Sara couldn’t chance any of those.
Somebody called Sara’s name and she glanced over her shoulder, saw one of her co-workers loading plates onto a tray. “Be right there.”
She turned back to Theresa and opened her mouth, but the older woman cut her off.
“Here.” She pressed a napkin into Sara’s hand, a napkin and five dollars. A five-dollar tip, for a cup of coffee. “Just come by and check it out, Sara. Really, I think you’d love it.”
Her instincts told her that Theresa wasn’t any sort of threat to her. Still, in hindsight, Sara should have just thrown the napkin away, finished up her day at the café, and then quietly disappeared. She didn’t need people noticing her. Being nice to her. Being friendly.
When people started being friendly, it meant only one thing.
Time to go.
She no longer trusted her instincts—she couldn’t afford to. The girl she’d once been would have looked at the elderly woman and fallen in love. Theresa looked like Mrs. Claus, complete with a tidy white bun in her hair and rosy cheeks, and was always ready with a kind word or a joke to share.
Sara desperately wanted to accept that kindness.
Setting her jaw, she shoved the napkin in her pocket and hitched her backpack a little higher up on her shoulder. She was going to go back to the roach motel that masqueraded as an apartment. She was going to pack her stuff. And she was going to leave.
In another month or two, it would start getting cooler. Then winter would settle in. Maybe she’d head farther south this time. Someplace warm. Maybe she could get lucky and even find a place halfway . . . well, like home.
“Sara, is that you I hear out there?”
She just barely managed to keep from flinching when she heard Theresa’s voice calling her name. Steeling herself, she pasted a smile on her face and waited as the older woman bustled around the corner of the house, carrying a tray of flowers and beaming.
Huh. People really do beam when they smile that big . . . Theresa set down the tray of flowers and rushed up the brick walkway to greet Sara.
“Oh, I’m so glad you decided to check out the apartment.”
“Actually, I . . .”
But Theresa was a petite, friendly
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