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inebriated man next to her in line. He was unshaven, rail thin and missing more teeth than his companion. He wore a battered watch cap over his long, wispy salt-and-pepper hair.
    “Looking to stay warm, huh?” Rosemary studied the two with a practiced eye. She could ferret out troublemakers right away. Usually, if she suspected active substance abuse, she’d make them sober up before coming in. These two seemed harmless enough, although Tommy had definitely had a snort or two.
    Christine nodded. “That’s right. It gets cold up there this time of year.” Her voice had a distinct North Carolina twang.
    “I remember it well,” Liza offered.
    “Are you from there?” Christine asked, studying Liza with a spark of interest.
    “I was for a while as a kid. Notice I’m back here now.”
    “Well, let me tell you all there is to tell about the mission. Mealtimes are posted on the door as you come in. We generally serve for about an hour. There are beds through that door,” Rosemary added, pointing. “Men sleep on the left, women and children on the right. The bathrooms are at the end of this hall. There are hot showers and clean towels. Nothing fancy, just the basics. You need to remember that we don’t allow alcohol or drugs or sleeping in the same bed and it’s a firm rule. And if you smoke cigarettes, there’s a porch out back. Make sure you use the sand bins we have out there; there’s plenty of them.”
    She paused and took a deep breath, pondering what she had forgotten. “Oh, yes, if you have any pets, let me know and we’ll make arrangements for them. If you need anything else you just let me or one of the other workers know; we’ll take care of it.”
    “That sounds just about right,” Christine said quietly. She smiled shyly. “Thank y’all so much for bein’ here to help.”
    “We’re happy to do it.” Rosemary returned Christine’s smile, then turned to fill Tommy’s plate. Liza placed a generous scoop of green beans on Christine’s plate, and with an extra nod of gratitude from Tommy, they moved on.
    Liza looked at Rosemary. “You’ve got the rules and regs down to a science don’t you?” She laughed. “I wonder how many times you’ve said those words over the past few years.”
    Rosemary wiped her hands on the skirt of her apron. “Too many, as far as I’m concerned.” She paused thoughtfully and studied the room. “Then again, maybe not enough.”
    Liza palmed Ro’s shoulder in understanding, then took advantage of the lull to fetch more baked potatoes from the kitchen. She paused just inside, once again admiring the shiny industrial stove and oven that had been installed just a month earlier. Rosemary and her partner Kim Gilbert had worked like fiends to raise the funds so they could replace the ancient, half-functioning unit they’d had there before. Hector Thayer, of the BP gas station on Esperanza, had been a huge contributor as had Dr. King’s wife, Paula, who ran the local florist shop. They had agreed to donate ten percent of each day’s receipts for an entire month. At the end of that month, they’d raised enough for the mission to buy this electric beauty as well as the warming counter out front and some new blankets for the cots. Liza sighed to herself. Now if only they could get all the other businesses in Maypearl to follow suit, they could build a new, entirely separate mission.
    She looked around. Actually, the basement of Recognition Baptist wasn’t such a bad location. It was centrally located, was warm, had carpeting on the floor and great bathroom and shower facilities. It was a real blessing for the homeless of Maypearl.
    “You daydreamin’, Liza?”
    Gloria Ebbe, Maypearl’s head librarian and one of several mission volunteers, was eyeing Liza while holding up a large serving spoon expectantly. She’d entered from the back storeroom and caught Liza woolgathering. When Liza didn’t answer right away, she moved toward the stove and used the spoon to