They left each other at the corner. Marcy and Paul headed for the subway to go uptown, and Beau took an Uber to Tribeca and dropped Spencer off at her place.
“You’re a busy little bee, Ms. Brooke. One minute you’re all dolled up, looking like a goddess of glamour at the Met, and the next minute you’re handing out free supplies from a falling-down old garage. There’s no telling what you’ll get up to next.” She smiled at him as she settled back in the Uber.
“It just seems like the right thing to do, doesn’t it?” He nodded and gave her a hug when they stopped at her house. It was late, and she knew the boys would already be in bed. She had told Francine she’d be home later than usual, so not to keep them up. She hated missing an evening with them, but it was for a good cause. One day, when they were older, she wanted to teach them to reach out to less fortunate people too.
“You should sleep well tonight,” Beau told her. “You’re doing a beautiful thing for these people.” He knew that was who she was, a woman with a big heart. He was sorry she didn’t have a good man in her life to help her and appreciate her. He had never been impressed by Bill Kelly, who was a zero in Beau’s book. But he wondered if Spencer would have had time to think of projects like this one if she had a man in her life. Maybe not. She had thought about that too. She had the store and her boys, maybe that was enough. None of the men in her life had ever turned out to be worthwhile. Selfish, spoiled, narcissistic. They’d been more interested in themselves and what they could get out of her than in building a real life with her. Bart wasn’t even a good father. He spent more time with his ex-debutante girlfriend than with his sons. Her own father hadn’t been much of a warmhearted human being either. Just a lazy guy who never pushed himself hard, coasted on his own father’s accomplishments, and had a spoiled wife who didn’t have a kind word to say about anyone, even her own daughter. Spencer combined the energy and forward-thinking brilliance of her grandfather, and his big heart, with the style and spirit and kindness of her grandmother. It was a winning combination, and she hoped her sons would turn out to be like their great-grandparents too. There were so many things she wanted to teach her sons, so many traditions and life lessons she wanted to share with them as they grew up, as her grandparents had done with her.
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.