Tales From Sea Glass Inn Read Free Page A

Tia’s breathless monologues.
Jenny had only been here two days, and already she’d heard more words from the
one woman than she herself had spoken in the past month. “I’ll ask her what she
needs me to do as soon as I’ve delivered these croissants. I figured no one
here has bothered to eat much today.”
    Helen reached into her basket and handed
Jenny a parchment paper cone. Jenny paused before accepting the warm package.
“I really shouldn’t. I have too much to do, and—”
    Helen waved off Jenny’s words. “Nonsense.
It’s small and portable and you need food to have enough energy for this job.”
    Helen walked away before Jenny could protest
anymore. Not that she wanted to. She couldn’t even remember the last thing
she’d eaten, but she was damned sure it hadn’t been as good as whatever Helen
had given her smelled. She opened the top flap of the parchment and took a bite
of the small, perfectly moon-shaped croissant. A thick slice of ham and some gooey,
melty cheese were folded inside. Jenny finished the pastry in two more bites
and crumpled the paper as she watched Helen talking to Mel on the other side of
the room. She shook her head. Helen intrigued her mind and aroused her body.
Now Jenny’s stomach had joined the fight against her concentration. She’d
better stop drooling like an enamored and hungry puppy and get back to work.
    Jenny tossed the paper into a trash can and
turned away from temptation. The convention center’s floor was crisscrossed
with channels, so segments of walls could be pulled out, separating the main
floor into several smaller conference rooms. She had arranged for most of the
space to remain open, but a corner of the room was enclosed on three sides.
This quieter area would soon be filled with waist-high sinks where volunteers
would clean the seabirds, washing every last drop of oil off their delicate
feathers. Now, though, it was empty of both people and equipment. The perfect
place for Jenny to regroup.
    She pulled a small pad and pen out of her
back pocket and flipped through several pages of names. She added Helen to the
list, feeling a small tingle of secret pleasure, as if she was writing her name
with a heart around it in a school notebook. She rubbed her eyes. Helen’s effect
on her was a symptom of sleep deprivation. Nothing more.
    Jenny added a star next to Helen’s name. Even
though Tia was technically in charge of volunteers, Jenny kept careful track of
them during the early stages whenever she organized a new rescue center. She
noticed the leaders, like Pam and Mel. She watched for aggressive recruiters,
like Tia, because the rescue effort would desperately need bodies to help, and
most people would have a difficult time saying no to her. She also identified
groups of friends who would be more inclined to remain interested if they were
on the buddy system. Helen was definitely a leader. Jenny had noticed the way
the other volunteers responded to her. She brightened their expressions, and
not just because she was handing out heavenly pastries.
    What was it about these coastal towns? Jenny
had witnessed it time and again—all communities drew together after disasters,
but ocean side towns seemed to transcend the temporary closeness of other
places. They were a family.
    Helen was the embodiment of the community’s
intimacy. She was feeding the people, nurturing them, with her personality and
not only her food. Jenny would be a part of this place for a short while,
welcomed inside because of her knowledge of this type of tragedy, but then she
would move on to the next place where she was needed. She was a catalyst. She’d
handle details, train volunteers, put a system in place. Assign duties and
tasks, and then stand back and let the community do the work.
    She’d always been an outsider, moving from
disaster to disaster, just as she’d done throughout her childhood with her
doctor parents. She had the experience needed to run this rescue effort,