Where Do I Go? Read Online Free PDF Page B

grief, they were still just boys , only thirteen and eleven. So what if the Fairbanks males “always” attended George Washington Preparatory Academy? They had Shepherd in them, too, and Shepherds went to school half a mile from home, like everyone else, wearing jeans with holes in the knee, and sporting a tie only at weddings and funerals, if then.
    I slid off the stool. I had to get out of here. But go where? Do what? And then I remembered.
    Lucy.
    That’s it! I was going to find that homeless women’s shelter and see if they’d taken her in. Just inquire how the old lady’s cough was doing. Tell the staff how we’d met in the rain. Laugh about it. Say hello and good-bye.
    Grabbing my purse from the coat closet in the gallery, I ran down the hall and poked my head into the master bath, where Camila was scrubbing the shower. “Camila? I’m leaving now. Do you know how long you’ll be? If I’m not back, can you just lock the front door behind you?”
    She waved a hand ensconced in a yellow rubber glove. “No problem, Señora Fairbanks! Sí, you go. Everything will be fine.”
    Thankfully, Mr. Bentley was on duty again, though he pursed his lips and frowned when I asked if he would call a cab for me and find the address again for that same homeless shelter where he’d sent the bag lady last night.
    â€œNow, what you want to go there for, Mrs. Fairbanks? Have you been to State Street yet? Or”—he glanced outside—“well, guess it’s not the best day to go up the Sears Tower. Clouds too low. But how about North Michigan Avenue? Lots of shopping there.”
    I tried to keep impatience out of my voice. “Please, just call a cab, Mr. Bentley. And get that same address, if you would.”
    The cab pulled up in front of a brick church squeezed between other two- and three-story buildings. I peered out the window. “Is this it? Where—?”
    â€œThis is the address, lady.” The cab driver pointed at the church. “Building burned down a couple of years ago. That one you see there is brand-new. Don’t know why they put in that stained-glass window an’ stuff. The old building hadn’t been used as a church for years, much less this one. You want me to wait?”
    I looked at the meter. $7.85. I handed him a ten. “No, thanks.” I got out and stood on the sidewalk. Seemed like it had taken barely five minutes to get here. Must not be that far from Richmond Towers. Maybe I could walk back.
    As the taxi pulled away, a stab of doubt weakened my resolve. I didn’t see a sign anywhere saying “Women’s Shelter.” Several broad steps led up to a set of double oak doors, flanked by stained-glass windows on either side. High above the doors, cradled by the peak of the building, the wooden beams of a cross stretched top to bottom and side to side inside a circular stained-glass window.
    Not far away I heard the metallic rattle of the elevated train, catching my eye as it passed over the street a couple of blocks away. I craned my neck to see what else was on the block. Most of the buildings seemed to be two- and three-story apartment buildings, though to the right of the church building was a Korean grocery, a Pay-Day Loan, and a twenty-four-hour Laundromat, with apartments above.
    A young couple with a baby in a stroller turned the corner by the Laundromat and walked briskly toward me. He was white; she was black. Interesting. That would raise a few eyebrows back in Petersburg. I stepped aside to let them pass, but they stopped.
    â€œHi.” The young man spoke first. “Can we help you?”
    â€œOh. Well, yes, maybe you can. I’m looking for a”— How dumb was this going to sound? —“um, a women’s shelter that’s sup-posed to be around here.”
    The young black woman laughed as she bent down to pick up the baby from the stroller. “Well, you found