SIX

Tricia was a little out of breath when she arrived at the Stoneham Food Shelf. Five cars were parked in front of the Clothing Closet’s door, and a blue Toyota Prius was in the slot farthest from the Food Shelf’s entrance, which sported a CLOSED sign.

Tricia pressed the doorbell at the side of the plate-glass door. Libby Hirt soon appeared and greeted Tricia with a smile. After exchanging pleasantries, she gave Tricia a complete tour of the facility, including opening the connecting door to the well-stocked Clothing Closet. Several women sorted through the racks of clothes. They didn’t look poverty stricken to Tricia, and she voiced that opinion.

The twinkle in Libby’s eyes, as well as her quick smile, vanished. She closed the door. “Appearances can be deceiving, Tricia. Right here in Stoneham there are families living paycheck to paycheck-living near the brink. House foreclosures, the tight economy-it all takes a toll on the working poor.”

“I guess I never gave it much thought, and I feel ashamed. I’ve been living in Stoneham for about eighteen months, and I’d never even heard of the Stoneham Food Shelf until yesterday.”

Libby managed a smile. “There are several hundred people who’ve lived in Stoneham all their lives and have never heard of our food pantry, so you’re not alone.” The smile faded from her lips. “Since the booksellers came to town, everyone seems to think that the prosperity has been shared among all Stoneham ’s citizens. It hasn’t. And this is New England. People don’t like to admit they have to accept charity.”

People like Ginny.

“I’m beginning to realize that,” Tricia confessed. “I’d like to do all I can to help.”

Libby’s smile returned. “I was hoping you’d say that. We’ve found a collection jar near your cash register is best for a business like yours. Often tourists feel generous with their change, and readily dump it into one of our jars.”

“I’m afraid a great many of my customers pay for their purchases with credit cards.”

“We realize that, but anything you collect will help local families deal with hunger. That’s a big plus, in my book.”

Now to pull out the big guns. “What do you know about the local freegans?” Tricia asked.

Libby’s mouth went slack, the color draining from her face. “I know of them.”

“Have they ever contributed to the Food Shelf?”

Libby hesitated before answering. “There’s a stigma attached to such donations. Even hungry people don’t want to eat food that may have been salvaged from garbage bins.”

“Is the food unsafe?”

“Not necessarily. But if we were to accept such donations-and I’m not saying we knowingly do-we wouldn’t know how clean the trash receptacle was. Was the food in plastic bags before it was, er, liberated? It’s a question of bacterial contamination. We wouldn’t want to expose our clients to any kind of risk.”

“So such donations are not something you readily welcome.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t always know where the donations come from. If we do, we naturally screen it, as we screen everything that comes in.”

“Screen it? How?”

“First of all, we accept only nonperishable items,” Libby said, and seemed grateful for the opportunity to veer away from the initial question. “Next, we examine every container. Cans that are dented near the seams are not distributed, nor are rusty cans. If the product comes in glass, we make sure there are no cracks. Nothing with bulging lids is accepted, either. And we check the expiration dates on everything that’s donated. We’ll accept food up to two years after the expiration date.”

Tricia wrinkled her nose. “But isn’t it spoiled by then?”

“Not at all. Admittedly, it may not be at its best, but when you’re hungry, you’re not as fussy.”

Tricia took in the boxes, cans, and jars of donated food that lined the shelves along the walls. “Surely a steady diet of all this processed food isn’t healthy.”

“We’re an emergency service,” Libby explained. “The Food Shelf was never intended to supply individuals for an extended length of time. I’ll admit processed food isn’t always the healthiest food on the planet. It’s full of sodium and high-fructose corn syrup, but when the alternative is to go hungry, donated food is literally a lifesaver. We do look out for a number of our chronically ill and elderly clients who depend upon us for food when their Social Security money runs out-usually the third week of every month. We take their dietary limitations into account and supply them with as much low-sodium and fresh food as possible.”

“How many of those clients do you have?”

“Right now, ten-that number varies throughout the year.”

“You mentioned fresh food?” Tricia prompted.

“Yes. Money donations buy bread, milk, cheese, fresh vegetables, and meat to last our clients several days.”

“Has the Food Shelf ever run a soup kitchen?”

“No, but one of the local churches did. That was before Everett ’s Food Market went out of business. The owner, William Everett, donated all his less-than-perfect produce. It was a big blow when he went out of business.”

“Did you know he now works for me?”

“Yes, I think Grace Harris did mention that to me. I’ve been told to save the date for their upcoming wedding. Isn’t it sweet that two such nice people found each other?”

“Yes. Now, you were saying-?” Tricia prompted.

“Oh, the soup kitchen. Yes, they tried to solicit donations from other sources outside of Stoneham, but they were already donating to programs in their own towns. It would be nice if we could get another such service going again-but it doesn’t seem likely.”

Tricia nodded and looked around the gleaming new facility. “It was very generous of Mr. Paige to make a matching donation to the funds your organization has collected.”

“Yes. He’s been a good friend to the Food Shelf over the years. We’re grateful for people like Grace Harris, and for all the Chamber of Commerce has done, too. We never could have come up with the funds if it hadn’t been for the Chamber. Bob Kelly is a saint.”

Tricia had never thought of him in that regard. “Can just anybody use your services?”

Libby shook her head. “We’re here for individuals and families who need emergency assistance. I’m sure you can understand that some people might want to take advantage of such a program, and that’s why our volunteers verify the need before our drivers make their weekly deliveries to those who’ve requested help.”

“You make deliveries?”

“Every Monday. That’s also when our volunteers make pickups from food drop-off points. At the end of the month, they collect the money from the change jars.”

Which explained the limited hours the Food Shelf was open.

“It’s important that we let the people who need assistance maintain their dignity,” Libby continued. “And with the price of gas these days, they often don’t have the where-withal to get to us.”

Tricia nodded in understanding. She couldn’t think of anyone she knew who would want to advertise the fact that they needed charity.

She thought about the real reason she’d come to the Food Shelf. Time to get down to business. “It was a wonderful dedication. Too bad it was marred by that woman’s temper tantrum,” Tricia said, not admitting her acquaintance with Pammy.

“Yes,” Libby agreed. “I never did find out what she wanted. Someone told me later she wanted to talk to our guest of honor. Harangue, more like. I was grateful that Mr. Paige’s security people dealt with her. It would have been extremely embarrassing for him had she made a fuss during the ceremony. Especially since the press was in attendance.”

The press? Oh, she meant Russ. Funny, Tricia never really thought of the Stoneham Weekly News as a serious news organ. Wouldn’t Russ be furious if he knew what her real opinion was?