Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(3)
Natasha shut her eyes and prayed.
Chapter Two
NATASHA’S AGING TOYOTA SPUTTERED AND died at the stop light on Adobe Road. Ignoring the honking line of cars behind her, she gripped the wheel, said a quick prayer and, with unsteady hands, turned the key in the ignition. The car chugged to life. She threw it into gear and headed north on the ribbon of road nestled along the foothills of the Sonoma Mountains.
If it was true that bad luck came in waves of three, then Natasha was due for a turn of fortune. But maybe such reversals of fortune only happened for people who could keep a positive attitude. God knew she was trying for Tyler’s sake. But her hope had vanished with a fateful spin of the roulette wheel. Losing all her savings on a badly placed bet had snowballed in ways she’d never imagined.
Instead of moving to a new home—a home away from the unpredictable violence of the street gangs that terrorized them—now she was vying for a spot in a homeless shelter for single women with children.
At least the shelter was in a safe neighborhood. And the nearby schools were good. Better than good. The first thing she’d done after the shelter director had called her was to visit her friend at the library and have her look up the school Tyler would be attending. Two thumbs up, her friend had reported. And the school had a baseball field. Tyler would be ecstatic. He excelled in school, but he lived for baseball.
Natasha turned into the drive behind the row of buildings. The Inspire shelter had no visible sign. It wouldn’t. In addition to providing interim housing, the shelter served as a safe house for women running from abuse. At least she didn’t have that problem. Not now. And never again. But her visit to the casino three weeks ago had told her that the trauma hadn’t faded. Maybe there were wounds that time didn’t heal no matter how hard a person tried.
A security camera hovered like a watchful eye above a set of sturdy doors. She pressed the button beside the doors and jumped when a buzzer sounded.
“Sorry it’s so loud,” a voice said through the white box. “We’re working on having it adjusted.”
“I’m Natasha Raley,” Natasha said into the plastic grid of the security system.
“I’ll be right down to meet you,” the cheery voice said.
“Thank you,” Natasha said into a stream of static.
Maybe this was how Dorothy felt when she presented her case in front of the curtain obscuring the Wizard of Oz. Right about now, a wizard would be a welcome addition to her life. Too bad she didn’t believe in such nonsense.
Natasha was ten minutes early. She wasn’t taking any chances that she might not lock in the spot at Inspire. The shelter was the best facility in the Bay Area. And the only one with room for her and Tyler right then. Wait lists for homeless shelters was an absurd concept. What were homeless people supposed to do while they waited—sleep on the street? Stay with relatives? Most of them were like her and didn’t have family they could turn to. The prospect gave her chills. She’d discovered too late just how thin the line was between having a home and not having one. One missed paycheck and everything went downhill from there.
If she’d known that the native plant nursery where she’d worked for two years was going belly up, she’d never have made her desperate bet. She’d loved that job. All day with plants. No numbers. And only a little reading. She’d memorized all the plant names and if she forgot one, she had her trusty notebook where she could trace out the names onto the tags letter by letter when no one was looking. But the owner couldn’t compete with the big box store that had opened just two miles down the road. He’d given her two weeks’ pay. But her landlord wouldn’t give her a grace period to find another job in order to pay the rent. He’d practically booted them to the curb. The three weeks she and Tyler had been forced to live in a cheap motel had wiped out the last of her funds.
Inspire was her only hope.
Natasha pushed open the steel door. A stocky woman with a broad smile met her just inside the building.
“I’m Mary Caslan,” the woman said as she extended her hand.
“I’m Natasha Raley,” Natasha said. And then she felt embarrassment flush her cheeks. “Well, you know who I am. I mean, what with the buzzer and my appointment and—”
“No need to be nervous, honey. We don’t bite.”
The woman’s warm smile and firm handshake didn’t untangle the knots cinching Natasha’s belly.
“I’m sorry we didn’t have a room for you when you called last week. But you’re in luck. You and your son will have the Marshland room.”
“You mean we’re in? For sure?”
“For sure. I thought we made that clear in the letter I sent.”
Natasha hadn’t received a letter. No doubt the motel owner hadn’t been bothered to pass it on. He hadn’t been pleased to have a woman with a child underfoot, preferring to rent his ill-kept rooms by the hour, and had done all he could to make her miserable enough to leave. If she hadn’t followed up by phone and spoken with Mary directly, she might have missed her chance.
“The Marshland room is a bit bigger than the others,” Mary went on. “And you won’t have to share. I’ll show it to you, and then I’ll give you a proper look around.”
Natasha heard what Mary’s words didn’t say. Though the woman’s manner wasn’t forced, Natasha knew she was trying to make everything seem normal. As if it could ever be normal to end up in a homeless shelter.