One

“Will that be all?” Juliana Maretti asked from behind the checkout counter, her eye on the clock. She smiled at the couple gazing around the store, their mouths agape. The camera around the gentleman’s neck validated her guess that they were tourists.

“What about those braided garlic bunches?” The woman pointed to the display. “How long will they last?”

“Months. Just let them hang in a dry place. Don’t refrigerate them.”

The woman studied the display for a moment then turned back to Juli. “We’ll take one of those.” She motioned to her husband, who headed for the display and brought a braid back to the counter.

She took it from him and held it in the air, tilting her head like a woman deciding which dress to purchase.

Juli managed not to tap her fingernails against the counter. She had paperwork to do and some orders to check before she could leave.

“Maybe we should buy two,” the woman said, turning to her husband. “Do you think Mama would like one? She uses a lot of garlic in her cooking.” She turned from her husband back to Juli. “She’s Italian.”

“So am I.” Juli nodded then glanced at her watch again, wondering how much longer before she could get on with her work. That was the problem of managing a store. When an ailing clerk left, the manager took over until a replacement arrived. “Italians like their garlic, but then, so do many people.” She motioned in a wide span toward the products filling the store. “We sell many garlic products—useful items and gourmet foods. I’m sure your mother will enjoy a practical gift like the braid.”

The woman gestured toward the display, and her husband stepped across the aisle to grab another one while Juli totaled the sale. She bagged the produce, made change, and thanked them as they stepped away.

Some days seemed to drag on endlessly. Juli wondered what it would be like to love a job so much that the time flew. If she had a dream, that would be it. She eyed her watch again and released a sigh. Two hours to go and she still had her own work to do, and today she needed to leave early. She turned toward the door. Donna had promised to come in as soon as she could. So where was she?

Customers ambled through her father’s store. The Garlic Garden brought in many customers each day, especially in the summer when tourists visited Gilroy.

“Juliana.”

Juli turned toward the voice and eyed the woman’s face, which looked uncomfortably familiar. “Can I help you?” She scrutinized the features, realizing she should know her.

“You don’t remember me?”

The woman moved closer, and beneath the makeup and salon-induced blond hair, Juli recognized her, a girl from her graduating class. “Melanie.”

“How could you forget?”

The barb in her voice dug deep. Juli ignored the question. “How are you?”

“Great.” Her gaze did a slow scan of her father’s store. “I see you’re the same.”

Another dig. “I’m glad you’re doing well. What brings you here?”

“A sorority friend from out of town. She wanted to see the infamous garlic kingdom.” Her lilting laugh had a biting edge as she waved across the room to an attractive young woman browsing through the garlic sauces.

Sorority friend. Juli not only had no sorority sister, but she had never gone to college. Instead she’d stayed home to manage her father’s store, and her brother had earned his degree. Her father’s old-world attitude butted against Juli’s, but she believed in honoring her father and mother. The memory knifed her once again, leaving a reopened wound. “Nice of you to show her the town.”

Juli peered at the growing line at the checkout. She looked over her shoulder. “Sandra, would you give Donna another call, please?” She eyed Melanie and motioned toward the customers. “Sorry. I need to wait on these people.”

Melanie arched her eyebrow and shifted away.

Juli waited on the next customer while battling her desire to check on Melanie and her friend. Melanie had brought back bad memories of her senior year when she and Juli were both running for Gilroy High Garlic Queen. The incident pried out memories that hurt, and Juli struggled to push them from her mind.

“Thank you,” she said, handing the customer his change.

The man smiled and moved off while she waited on another. When she’d finished, Melanie’s overly friendly voice penetrated her thoughts. “Roxy, this is Juliana, the one I told you about.”

Roxy eyed Juli and snickered. “You mean the garlic and roses bouquet?”

Melanie sent her a look as if warning her not to say any more, but the damage had been done. Juli knew the bouquet had been a mean prank played on her long ago, and she suspected Melanie had been behind the incident even though she came through it unscathed.

Juli managed to grin. “Yes. Garlic and roses. It was unique.” Juli tried to keep her voice lighthearted. “Will this be it?”

“That’s it.” Roxy dug into her handbag while Juli rang up the items.

She ran the credit card and returned it to the woman along with her purchases. “I hope you enjoy your visit.”

“It’s been fun, but I don’t know how you can live with this smell.”

“Ask Melanie. She’s apparently still in the area. It grows on you.” Juli watched a flash of anger in Melanie’s eyes and wanted to chalk up one notch for herself, but she knew it was wrong to hurt people. As the two women walked away, Juli looked heavenward, asking God to forgive her dig to Melanie. She knew better than to let the old situation get under her skin again.

Back in high school she and Melanie had been nominated for Gilroy High Garlic Queen in their senior year. Besides being queen of the senior events, the honor included participating in the garlic festival at the end of July. Melanie’s competition with Juli had been fierce, and Juli never understood why. Melanie was pretty and very popular with okay grades. Though Juli had good grades, she wasn’t popular. In fact, the popular kids considered her a nerd. While Melanie’s father had a lucrative business, Juli’s father’s business had just become so, and the businesses were different. Juli had struggled with the question of how she’d even been nominated until she thought she’d finally learned the answer.

She let her thoughts dwindle and concentrated on the customers, and after Donna arrived, Juli focused on her paperwork and checked the orders. When the hour hand finally moved to four, Juli gave final instructions to her replacement manager, said good-bye to her coworkers, and scooted out the door. The drive to Seaside near Monterey would take her awhile in the heavy traffic, and she liked to arrive at the soup kitchen on time even if it was only a volunteer job.

❧

Juli found a parking spot behind the building and dug into her shoulder bag for a scrunchie. She pulled the soft fabric-covered elastic from the bottom of her bag and tied her hair into a ponytail. After locking the car, she hurried into the back door of the soup kitchen, knowing she had arrived late.

A mixture of smells met her at the door: tomatoes, beef, and the familiar scent of garlic. She eyed a large pot of beef and tomatoes stewing on the burner, elbow macaroni bubbling on another burner—goulash, she noted—and bowls of peaches lined up on trays.

“Sorry,” Juli said, waving to a couple of volunteers she knew. “You know the traffic.”

She darted past them to the storage area, stuffed her purse inside, and tied on the standard bib apron then checked the task chart. Her assignment: cookies. On the way to her station, Juli grabbed a pair of the plastic gloves sitting everywhere in boxes. One thing the soup kitchen demanded was cleanliness. She pulled out a carton of chocolate chip cookies and tugged on the stubborn lid.

“Juli.”

She looked up as Bill Montego stepped to her side.

He tilted his head toward the dining room. “We have a big crowd waiting outside. It looks like we’ll have a passel of people tonight. The doors open in twenty minutes.”

“I’m on it,” she said, pulling the carton closer, determined to pry open the lid without help.

Bill beckoned to someone behind her. “This is Alan, a new volunteer. Could you show him the ropes?”

“Sure thing.” She glanced over her shoulder and looked into the most beautiful dusky lilac-blue eyes she’d ever seen.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Alan said. “What can I do to help?” He motioned to the carton she’d been trying to open.

“Glad you’ve decided to join us. We can always use help.” She stopped attacking the lid. “I’m Juli Maretti.” She nodded toward the gloves lying beside her. “You need to be sterilized.” She grinned and pointed to the glove box. “You can get yours over there.”

He followed her directions and strode to the box of gloves. When he turned back, he waved them in the air, his warm smile sparkling. “I’m Alan Louden, by the way. If you’re my boss, we need to be properly introduced.”

She loved his lightheartedness. Realizing she was fighting an unending battle, she slid the carton in front of him. “Maybe you can do this.”

He pried the lid open in the blink of an eye then slipped his hands into plastic gloves. Together they began unpacking the cookies and setting them onto trays.

In the monotony of the task, she wanted to talk, but she felt tongue-tied as she so often did when it came to socializing with men her age. Her dating experience had been basically nil.

Alan grasped a handful of cookies and paused. “How long have you been volunteering here?”

His voice broke through the silence and surprised her. “A year or more,” she said, wishing she didn’t feel so jumpy when she looked into his gorgeous eyes and friendly smile.

He removed the filled tray and replaced it with an empty one. “Are you from Seaside?”

She hated to say she was from Gilroy. It was the same old line—“You live in the garlic capital of the world” or some such comment. She couldn’t bear any more Gilroy jokes. “A friend of mine lives in Monterey and dragged me here to be her moral support. Then she quit coming, but I was hooked.”

“Good for you.” His smile radiated to her heart. “Too many people take their good fortune for granted.”

She liked the sound of his voice—a rich baritone with a hint of good humor. Most of all she liked what he’d just said. “You’re right. People grumble about so many things when they have so much. Spending a few days in a soup kitchen would be a lesson in being thankful.”

He patted her arm. “I like you,” he said. “You’re smart.” He lifted the same hand with a chuckle. “But I’m not.” He peeled off the plastic glove and reached into the box for a fresh one.

She chuckled at his blunder. “I think most of the volunteers here agree with you. They’re giving from the heart.”

He gave her a concurring nod and dug back into the carton for more cookies.

By the time they’d filled the trays, Bill flagged them into the dining room to help serve. As Juli dished out food, she thought about Bill’s asking her to train Alan. He could have asked so many others, but he’d asked her, and it pleased Juli. She liked volunteering, and she liked Alan. Juli’s work at the soup kitchen was fulfilling, and the time flew by, the way she wished her real job did.

Pulling her mind free, Juli concentrated on serving those in line. The next woman holding out her tray was one of Juli’s favorites, and she sent the woman a smile. “How are you?”

The older woman shrugged with sad eyes. “Not so good today.”

Juli noticed how worn and tired she looked and made a mental note to speak with her later. She made it a point to talk with those who appeared to need someone to listen.

Alan shifted beside her. “You seem to know a lot of these people.”

Juli nodded. “They come back week after week. Sometimes it’s hard to remember they may be down and out, but they’re people just like you and me.” She turned to face him and saw the seriousness in his eyes. “There but for the grace of God go I. I think of that phrase every time I work here. God’s been good to my family, but it’s due to His grace and nothing more.”

Alan’s expression darkened.

She searched his eyes for a moment, wondering if maybe he didn’t believe in the Lord. Being a Christian wasn’t a prerequisite for volunteering, but many of the volunteers were believers.

With the question niggling her, she focused on the line, trying to smile and talk with the homeless men and women she’d seen there so often, but despite her efforts her mind tangled with thoughts about Alan. When he wasn’t on her mind, she thought back to her edgy meeting with Melanie earlier in the day. Why had Melanie found it necessary to mention the garlic and rose bouquet? That had been so hurtful, and yet what did it matter now? At the time she’d thought she had been the brunt of a class joke when the school voted her the Gilroy High Garlic Queen. The honor always went to the most beautiful and most popular. Melanie was popular and should have won hands down.

But after the event she’d learned the truth. She’d won mainly because of the underclassmen. They were apparently tired of Melanie’s belittling comments. But still, something else had happened. Juli could only guess that when Melanie suspected she wouldn’t win, she’d had her friends vote for Juli, too, to ensure she became the garlic queen so they could make a joke out of the situation. Juli recalled this had happened another time before she entered high school. Teenagers could be terribly mean at times.

“You just put goulash on top of her salad.” Alan’s voice jolted her.

Juli looked at the woman’s plate and released a sigh. “Sorry.” She reached out and took the dish, returned to the food stations, and refilled the woman’s choices, adding a little extra to make up for her absentmindedness.

When she returned the plate, the woman eyed the portion and gave her a broad, missing-tooth smile. “Thank you,” she said.

Juli grinned back. “You’re welcome.”

From her expression Juli guessed the woman hoped she would make the same mistake next week.

Alan leaned closer. “That was a kind thing you did. She’ll remember that always.”

“The goulash on her salad?”

His eyes looked unexpectedly serious. “You know what I mean.”

Though she wondered about his comment, she grasped the ladle and doled out the goulash, forcing her mind to stick to her work.

❧

As the crowd wandered back outside, Alan invited those left to have seconds, but he couldn’t keep Juli from his mind. He’d been watching her stop to speak with some of the diners. He could tell she wasn’t patronizing. She really listened to them, even patting their hands and giving a few hugs. He hadn’t recalled ever seeing that kind of personal attention given at soup kitchens, and Juli’s action touched him. When the people left, they seemed to be holding their heads higher and walking with a lighter step. Alan wanted to listen to what she said and learn from her example.

After leaving the serving counter, Juli had untied her ponytail, and now her dark curly hair hung in long kinks a little below her shoulders. He loved the wispy ends that seemed to have a mind of their own. He wondered if Juli had the same kind of stubborn independence. Her deep brown eyes flashed as she talked, and her warm smile tugged at his heart.

Alan glanced at his watch. Weariness had settled over him. He’d worked a twelve-hour day at the hospital, and standing on his feet the past three hours had added stress to his already aching back. Since the hall held only a few last-minute diners, he knew he could leave, but lifting his shoulders for a second breath, he devised a plan. Instead of slipping away, he rolled out the trash can to help clear the tables and wipe them down.

While cleaning tables, Alan studied Juli as she gave a tender pat to another homeless man who rose to leave. Alan waited until the man had stepped away before he pulled the trash can closer to her and stopped. “You amaze me.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“You do.”

The wide-eyed look changed to a curious frown. “Why?”

Alan gestured toward the last people walking through the door. “You’re so. . .so relaxed with these people even though so many are scraggy-looking. You seem to send them away with something special.”

“Food for the stomach and food for the soul. I send them away with hope.”

“Hope?” The word sank into his thoughts. These people needed so many things, and hope was definitely one of them. “That’s a good thing.”

“Especially for the people who have so little. Have you ever listened to their stories?”

He’d known only one story—his own. “No.”

“Next time talk to them and listen. Anyone with compassion, and I think you have it, will want to do whatever they can to lift their spirits.”

Guilt gnawed at Alan’s usually well-fed stomach. Though he’d often been able to show he had compassion for the sick, he hadn’t extended it here today and had the same problem at the hospital. “I will.”

She joined him in tossing paper plates and napkins into the trash. “These people aren’t all druggies and drunks. Some of them have other problems—serious family situations and no place to turn.”

Alan nodded, knowing the truth in her statement. Juli had captured his interest. Whether it was her spirit, her faith that seemed so evident, or the good humor he’d seen, he wasn’t sure, but he wanted to know her better.

He left her filling the trash can and went into the kitchen for a bucket of water and a cloth to wipe down the tables. Other workers were packing leftovers and cleaning the kitchen while some were pushing large brooms along the floor. People pitched in, he noticed. Nothing was too lowly for any of them. Good hearts, he thought.

Alan wiped down the final table, scanned the room, and dropped the cloth into the bucket then headed to the kitchen storage closet. When he disposed of the equipment, he turned and saw Juli draping her purse over her shoulder. “Looks like we’re finished,” he said.

“We had a big crowd tonight. Usually we’re done sooner.” She took a few steps then stopped. “By the way, it was nice meeting you.”

Alan felt his stomach rumble as he searched her eyes. “Do you have time for coffee? I noticed a diner up the road.”

She looked at her watch then lifted her tired eyes to his. “I’d love to, but it’s getting late, and I have a long drive home.”

He felt deflated. “I understand. Maybe another time.” He stuck out his hand. “Thanks for showing me around tonight. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, grasping his hand in an amiable shake.

Her hand felt small in his, and the warmth rolled up his arm. He wished she had agreed to stop for coffee. His disappointment multiplied that she hadn’t said maybe next time. Despite his letdown, he wouldn’t give up. Trying to get to know someone here would be difficult. They had little time to talk about important things.

“I’ll walk you out.” He pulled the apron over his head and hung it on a hook.

“Thanks.”

She moved into step with him, and he pushed open the door to the pleasant spring air.

Juli pointed. “I’m parked over there.”

He walked beside her, wanting to talk but not knowing what to say.

When she stopped beside a small sedan, he finally found his voice. “I hope I’ll see you next week.”

“You’ll be back?”

He heard the quiet beep when she hit the remote. “I want to spread a little of that hope you’re so good at sharing.”

“That’s great,” she said, opening the car door. She paused a moment then turned toward him. “By the way, Saturday is ‘Dining Out, Helping Out’ day. Some of the volunteers meet at Crazy Horse Restaurant to support the Monterey Food Bank. The restaurant’s in the Park Hotel.”

“I know the place.”

Her eyes brightened. “Good, and 10 percent of the profits go to help the hungry, in case you didn’t know.”

“I know about the charity. A number of restaurants in the area donate some of their proceeds.”

She nodded. “I’ve been to Big Joe’s in Salinas. It’s closer to me, but since this is central for the volunteers, we usually meet in Monterey.” She sent him an amazing smile. “I’ll be there about six. Come, and we can talk then. If not, I’ll see you next Wednesday.”

“I’ll check my calendar.” Her smile warmed him, and he hoped he could see her Saturday. He watched her settle into the car and start the engine before he dragged himself away, hungry and tired but feeling uplifted.

❧

Juli tried to keep up with the conversation at the Crazy Horse Restaurant. She’d been certain Alan would show up. Wondering why he hadn’t come, she only half listened to the conversation, trying to laugh at the right times and respond when it was appropriate.

The waiting rattled her. It seemed too much like her youth when she waited for someone to ask her to the sophomore party or the junior dinner. When she’d about given up waiting to be asked, someone—usually someone who’d been refused by numerous others—finally appeared with an invitation. By then she wanted to say no, but she’d always been taught not to “cut off her nose to spite her face,” so she accepted the date.

She had some friends but no real boyfriends—just pals. She knew why. She’d never been allowed to wear jeans and the revealing tops the girls wore. Her dad insisted she wear loose-fitting clothing and sturdy shoes. She felt as if she’d come over from Italy in steerage rather than being a modern-day teen. He thought he was following God’s Word and reminded her of 1 Peter 3:3: “Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel.” He stressed modesty, but she felt so out of place in school. That was seven years ago, though. Let it go, Juli.

“What’s happening?”

Juli turned and looked into a pair of brown eyes. “Nothing much.” She’d seen the new volunteer before, but his name escaped her.

“Your watch seems better company than we are.”

She clasped her palm over her watch and slipped her hands to her lap. “Sorry. I have a long drive home.” She cringed hearing her comment. It was the truth, but it had nothing to do with her checking the time.

He gave her a little nudge. “Waiting for someone?”

She realized he was flirting with her, and she tried to smile. “A friend mentioned stopping by. We didn’t set real plans.”

“Good,” he said, sliding his chair closer. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have a great smile?”

Here he goes. She shrugged, trying to find a good way to respond. “My dentist.”

His expectant look opened to laughter. “That’s a great one. I’ll have to remember that.”

She pulled her hands from beneath the table, taking another moment to glance at her watch.

He leaned in. “I’ve noticed you on Wednesdays. I love your hair and your smile, but you’re quiet. You seem all business. You sort of give people the cold shoulder.”

You seem all business. The cold shoulder. A light went on in Juli’s head. Had she chased away young men with her quiet, businesslike way? Maybe she seemed aloof. She knew that could be a defense mechanism to avoid rejection. The possibility startled her. “The soup kitchen is serious business. I try to focus on the people who need help. It’s what I feel is important.”

His hand moved closer to hers, and he brushed the back of it with his finger. “I’m not criticizing. Focusing on people is a worthy purpose.”

She looked at him, wondering if he was being sincere or just flirting.

“I choose to focus on you, Juli.” He gave her a wink.

That answered her question. She felt uncomfortable with the man and even more not knowing his name. “Sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

He brushed his finger against her arm. “I know yours.”

“I know mine, too.” She grinned, surprised the comment gave her a chuckle. “But I don’t know yours.”

“Dill. Short for Dillon.”

She extended her hand. “Dill it is. I like to know the volunteers.”

“I’d like to know you.” He took her hand and didn’t let go.

Trying to ease her fingers from his, an uneasy sensation rolled over her. She turned in time to see Alan with his back to the dining room heading toward the exit. Before she could move, he’d disappeared.

“Excuse me a minute,” she said, jerking her hand from Dill’s and bolting toward the exit.

When she stepped outside, she looked both ways, but Alan had vanished. She closed her eyes, trying to fathom if he had seen Dill holding her hand. If so, what had he thought?