Maggie realized she had to get out of the house, even if she had to make the 1996 Ford she inherited from her mother into a condo. As she headed into her bedroom, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number and she was in no mood to talk to a telemarketer.
“Hello.” Her greeting was tentative, as she was half expecting it to be a nuisance call.
A slight hesitation followed. “Is this Maggie Herbert?”
“Yes.”
“I hope you don’t mind my calling you this late. I got your contact information from Charlene Royce. My name is Joan Sample.”
“Yes?” At the mention of the other woman’s name, Maggie’s heart leaped.
“I’m calling because Charlene mentioned that you’re looking to rent a room. I have a spare bedroom, and I thought we could meet and discuss the possibility.”
The anxiety that had weighed down Maggie ever since the call from Mrs. Royce lifted. She did her best to hide her enthusiasm. “That would be great…I’d like that. When can we meet? I mean, I’ll make myself available anytime that’s convenient for you.”
“Would tomorrow afternoon at two work? I can text you my address.” The woman on the line hesitated, as if suddenly she had second thoughts. Maggie feared she might have already changed her mind.
“Two would be perfect. Thank you.”
“Good…I’m not an impulsive woman. I never have been. This evening, I had dinner with my son, and mentioned you moving in with me. To be frank, he was dead set against the idea. I left the restaurant, thinking his concerns were legitimate. I’m not the kind of woman who would normally bring a stranger into my home.”
“Your son is against this?” The hope that had sparked to life inside her faded quickly and was in danger of being snuffed out before it even had a chance to light.
“Yes, and I understand where he’s coming from. The thing is, I make my own decisions. Once I got home from dinner, I couldn’t get you off my mind. I had the strongest urge to connect with you right away, which I know sounds strange. I tried to set my mind at ease, yet nothing worked. I promised myself I’d reach out in the morning, but I still felt the need to call you this evening.”
Then Joan asked, “Are you okay? I know that’s a weird thing to ask, and I apologize for being this forward.”
Unsure how best to answer, Maggie went with honesty. “I’m okay…mostly. Things with my dad aren’t the best.” Maggie was afraid to say too much. She didn’t want to come across as desperate, although she was. The prospect of living in her car terrified her. Her choices were limited. She could couch-surf for a few days with friends, but that wasn’t a viable solution, at least not for long.
“I had a feeling that might be the case. I think we could be good for each other. Anyway, I’m rambling. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you again.”
Maggie disconnected the call and held her phone against her chest as she breathed in a huge sigh of relief. She’d pinned all her hopes on Mrs. Royce. She needed to remind herself that this opportunity might turn out to be a bust, too. She had to be practical and do her best to convince Joan Sample that renting her a room was one of the best decisions she would ever make.
* * *
—
The following afternoon, Maggie arrived several minutes early at the address Joan had texted. She sat in her car, mentally preparing herself for the meeting. The white house with black shutters was in an upper-class neighborhood, was two stories, and had a wide, inviting front porch. The yard needed a bit of TLC, but otherwise the home seemed to be a newer one built in a colonial style.
At precisely two, she rang the doorbell and stepped back to rub her sweating hands down the front of her outfit. She wore her Sunday best, a dress she’d gotten for her high school graduation. It was the last time she had bought anything new, as her finances had been on a downward slide ever since she’d started school and was doing her best to balance her studies and her work schedule.
The door opened and an attractive woman stood on the other side of the threshold. Maggie had assumed Joan would be older. That wasn’t the case. Joan was slim and attractive, with deep, dark chocolate-brown eyes and thick hair. She couldn’t be more than forty, perhaps forty-five, although age was difficult to judge. Her hair had silver streaks, so she might be closer to mid-fifties.
“You must be Maggie.” Joan held the door open for her. “Come in, please.” She led Maggie past the foyer and down a short hallway to the kitchen. Maggie did her best to take in the atmosphere as she obediently followed. Everything was tidy and neat. The house was meticulously kept up. Nothing seemed to be out of place.
“I baked cookies this morning, something I haven’t done in years.” She indicated Maggie should take a seat at the table. The cookies smelled as if they had only recently come from the oven, and the sugar and cinnamon hung invitingly in the air. Snickerdoodles, one of her favorites.
“You didn’t need to go to any trouble, Mrs. Sample.”
“Please call me Joan.”
“All right, Joan.”
“I see you like jigsaw puzzles?” Maggie commented, noting the puzzle took up a large portion of the tabletop.
Joan nodded as she took a seat. “The challenge of putting them together occupied my mind after my husband died.”
The other woman’s voice trembled slightly, and Maggie recognized the subject of her husband was one to be avoided.
“And, of course, through the pandemic, too.”
In order to be polite, Maggie reached for a cookie. If it was a long time since Joan had baked cookies, it was even longer since Maggie had enjoyed anything homemade. The stove at the house had only one working burner, and the oven no longer held any heat. As far as Maggie was concerned, it was a minor miracle that it worked at all. By tomorrow it would be a moot point, with no electrical power coming into the house.
She set down two cups of tea as she took the chair across from Maggie. The scent of orange spice tickled Maggie’s nose. She wanted to wrap the feeling of comfort and home around her the way she’d once carried her favorite baby blanket as a toddler.
“I checked out your references,” Joan said, before she raised the china cup to her lips and sipped the tea.
Maggie held her breath while she waited to hear the outcome.
Joan met her gaze and offered Maggie a reassuring smile. “Everyone had nothing but good things to say about you. Your teachers claim you’re their star pupil, and your manager at Starbucks assured me you have a strong work ethic and were honest and dependable.”
Maggie relaxed somewhat.
“Your pastor had a great deal to say about you and your mother. He assured me I couldn’t go wrong if I decided to rent you the room. He was a talkative fellow and told me how much he admired you and how sadly your mother is missed.”
“I was blessed with a wonderful mother. I miss her every single day.”
Joan seemed to soak in her words. “I sympathize,” she whispered. “I know what it is to miss someone, too.” Then, as if she needed to change the subject, she went on, her voice stronger now. “As you can see, the house is too big for one person.”