Worthy Opponents(42)

At the meeting at the garage, Spencer had made a point of saying that she didn’t want to publicize their project for the homeless. It would be self-serving to do that, and look as though she was trying to find gimmicks to enhance the image of the store. It wasn’t about that. But she wasn’t going to hide it either. She just wanted to do it, and not waste time talking about it. But as always in the small, enclosed world of the store, there was always gossip, and her mother called her that weekend. One of the old secretaries had told Eileen about the project. She used them to gather rumors instead of asking her daughter for facts, or showing interest in what she did.

“I hear you’re collecting old clothes for the homeless and going to hand them out in front of the store,” her mother said in a disapproving tone when she called her, and Spencer laughed at how distorted the rumor had gotten.

“No, I’m buying new clothes, and planning to give them away out of a garage I rented for that purpose. We’re overrun with homeless these days. They’re camped out all over the neighborhood. And they like doing it in front of the store because it’s well lit and safe.”

“They’ve been doing that for years,” her mother said dismissively, as though it weren’t really a problem. “Why don’t you just call the police? That’s what your father did to get rid of them.” It didn’t surprise Spencer to hear it.

“I’d like to help them if I can, and encourage them not to just set up camp in front of the store. I didn’t know that Dad used to call the cops to chase them off.”

“Sometimes he gave them a little extra cash to send them away if he saw them inside himself. It always worked.”

“For whom?” Spencer said.

“For the store of course. You don’t want those filthy people hanging around.” The way her mother described them made Spencer’s heart ache, but it didn’t surprise her about her mother, nothing did. The milk of human kindness did not run thick in her veins.

“So, what’s new with you, Mother?” The question usually unleashed a litany of complaints, followed by some new physical problem Eileen was cultivating.

“My gout is killing me.”

“You can control it with diet.” With a little self-restraint. Her mother loved rich foods.

“So why are you giving things out to the homeless? You’ll get fleas and lice, you know. Or TB.” Eileen came back to her original subject with a vengeance. “You’re not letting them into the store, are you, or feeding them?”

“No, you need permits for that. We’re going to give them clothes and some supplies they need.”

“You’ll just encourage them to stay on the streets.” It was a familiar mantra Spencer had heard before, which made no sense. No one was going to stay on the streets, in miserable conditions, for free socks and a sleeping bag and a jacket. The project was about arming them for survival, not seducing them into homelessness. The very idea was ridiculous.

“I don’t think that’s the issue, Mom,” Spencer said simply, and moved on. “It’s good to do something for the community.” And the human race. “Do you want to come and see the boys? You haven’t seen them in a while.” Spencer hated her mother’s visits but felt duty-bound to ask her. She was their only grandparent, but hardly ever saw them. She was more involved in herself.

“They always have runny noses or stomach flu. I don’t want to catch anything from them. They’re little disease factories at that age.” It was one way to look at it. It always startled Spencer how little desire her mother had to see the twins. She didn’t consider them “interesting” yet, at seven. Eileen had felt that way about Spencer too, and by the time she did find her daughter interesting, Spencer had left for college, and they never connected except at a dutiful, superficial level on Spencer’s part. Her mother wasn’t a warm person, and Spencer found it impossible to relate to her. They were just too different. Her mother considered their differences a fatal flaw in her daughter, and never questioned herself, nor sought to improve their relationship. Spencer had given up on having a real relationship with her long ago. Her grandparents had given her all the love she needed. Her parents had both been selfish and cold. And Spencer’s relationship with her boys was intentionally the opposite, warm, open, and loving. She spent all her spare time with them. “I might come to lunch at the store one of these days,” Eileen conceded. “I want to see what the renovations look like since the fire.” Spencer knew she’d be looking for mistakes to criticize.

“They did a very nice job,” Spencer said. “It’s even prettier than before.”

“That’s not what I hear.” Spencer could just envision Eileen’s expression when she said it, with pursed lips. It was the facial expression Spencer always associated with her mother, as much as she did her grandmother’s shy flirtatious smile, and her grandfather’s laughing eyes, and her father’s stern expression of long-suffering disapproval. Like many families, hers was a mixed bag. The good genes had skipped a generation.

The first night of packing in the garage was predictably chaotic. No one knew exactly what they were doing, since they hadn’t done it before. They were learning as they went along. Marcy and Beau were on the team to pack the bags. Spencer walked from group to group, seeing how it all fit together, and tried packing one of the bags herself, to find the best system. It all worked, and what they were giving people would keep them warm in winter, cool in summer weather, covered, dry, and lightly fed. They gave them what they needed to sleep, for rain, utensils to eat with, what they could use to get clean, and even a deck of cards. It was a survival kit for the streets.