Too bad Libby hadn’t known why Pammy had tried to crash the dedication… but then again, if she did, she had no reason to divulge that information to Tricia. And why should Libby speak frankly? Until today, she hadn’t met Tricia, and had no reason to share anything she knew.

Too bad.

“Goodness, look at the time,” Tricia said, with a show of looking at her watch. “I’m sorry to have kept you so long.”

“Not at all,” Libby assured her. “Let me get one of our change jars for you. One of our volunteers will visit your store to collect what’s been contributed at the end of every month. We’re very grateful to the Chamber members who’ve elected to help us out in this way.”

Tricia took another look around the tidy room as Libby rummaged in a locker for a collection jar. She thought about the Clothing Closet next door, and the boxes of food ready to be delivered to the people of Stoneham who were too ashamed to let others know their circumstances… and felt grateful for what she had and the life she lived.

After missing breakfast and talking food for so long with Libby Hirt, Tricia was hungry enough to eat her own foot. As it was almost noon, she parked her car in the municipal lot, grabbed her new collection can, and hoofed it to Angelica’s café, figuring on grabbing a quick bite before returning to Haven’t Got a Clue.

Ginny was right. Booked for Lunch was booked solid. There wasn’t a seat to be had, and people stood in the entry-way, waiting for an opening. Tricia did an about-face and headed north down the sidewalk for the Bookshelf Diner.

Another destroyed carved pumpkin lay in the gutter outside the restaurant. How many of the village’s children were heartbroken over such vandalism? Tricia bypassed the mess and entered the diner.

Though Angelica’s café had put a dent in the Bookshelf’s lunchtime trade, it hadn’t killed it. All but one booth was taken, and the one Tricia was given was only a two-seater. She shrugged out of her jacket, set it over her purse and the collection can, and sat down. Not thirty seconds later the waitress arrived, pouring fresh water from a frosted glass jug into Tricia’s waiting glass.

“What can I get you?” Eugenia, the perky, blond, college-aged waitress asked. “The usual?”

Tricia shook her head. “Today I think I’ll be daring. How about a bowl of vegetarian chili-with extra crackers?”

Eugenia winked.

“Hey, I thought you only worked evenings,” Tricia said.

Eugenia smiled. “I do. But Hildy called in sick today, and since I only have a couple of morning classes, I agreed to fill in. I’m a starving college student. I can always use the extra money. Be right back with your chili,” she promised, and headed toward the kitchen.

Was it Tricia’s imagination, or had Eugenia lost some of the hardware she usually wore? Gone were the eyebrow rings and nose studs-although the young woman still had at least three sets of gemstone-like post earrings, in a multitude of colors, decorating each ear. Should she mention the young woman’s new look, or had Eugenia taken enough teasing about her former look from the more staid villagers that acknowledging the change wouldn’t be appreciated?

Eugenia reappeared in record time with Tricia’s order. She settled the bowl, with the requested extra crackers, on the paper placemat in front of Tricia. “Hey, I heard you met my mom.”

Tricia looked into the intense blue eyes above her. “I did?”

“Yeah, Libby Hirt. She runs the Food Shelf. I talked to her on the phone a few minutes ago. She said you’d been by to scope out the place and that you’d volunteered to be a drop-off point. That was really nice of you. Thanks.”

News traveled fast. She’d left Libby only some fifteen minutes before. Hadn’t Grace mentioned that Eugenia had been ill as a child? She certainly didn’t look the worse for wear now. “Oh, well. Just my civic duty.”

“No, it’s more than that. Thanks to Mom, I grew up knowing that there were hungry people all around here. Not everyone is as enthusiastic about helping the Food Shelf. They think it encourages people to be bums or something.” She rolled her eyes disapprovingly.

“Since most of my customers are tourists, I don’t know that they’ll feel generous toward the cause, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.” And she intended to salt the jar to get things going.

“You’re right,” Eugenia agreed, “but you’d be surprised how fast loose change mounts up.” She nodded toward the collection can that sat by the diner’s register. It was at least a third full with quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies, and a few folded-up dollar bills. “Add up all the collection cans in town, and it makes a big difference to the Food Shelf’s bottom line,” she continued. “I mean, we can’t depend on bigwigs like Stuart Paige to pick up the tab all the time. The people of Stoneham have to take some responsibility for the villagers who need help making ends meet.”

The words didn’t sound rehearsed, but they weren’t the jargon of a twenty-year-old, either. Eugenia must have grown up hearing the same speeches over and over again. That she’d taken them to heart said a lot about her character.

“I’m glad I can help.”

“I do what I can, too,” Eugenia said, her gaze traveling back toward the kitchen.

“Hey, what’s it take to get some service around here?” called a male voice from behind Tricia. The accent sounded like he was a Long Islander.

“ ’Scuse me,” Eugenia said, and took off to take care of her customer.

Tricia turned her attention to her lunch, plunging her spoon into the chili. She had always enjoyed talking with Eugenia. She was a nice kid. Like her mom… although with that brilliantly blond hair, and her little pug nose, she looked nothing like her mother. Then Tricia remembered again that Grace had mentioned the girl had been adopted.

She unwrapped the first of her cracker packets, crumbling them on top of the chili.

A minute later Eugenia returned, this time with a carafe of coffee. “Sorry, I never asked if you wanted anything other than water.”

Tricia shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“All set?”

Tricia nodded.

Eugenia dipped into the pocket of her apron, withdrew a piece of paper-the check-and set it on the table. “Thanks for coming by today-and for helping my mom.”

Tricia nodded, and the young woman headed back up the booth-flanked aisle, checking with the rest of the patrons, making offers of refills as needed.

As Tricia finished her lunch, she wondered what Eugenia had meant when she said she’d done all she could to support her mother’s cause. Did she contribute some of her tips, or was she one of the volunteers who packed canned goods into cartons at the Food Shelf?

Today wasn’t the day to ask.

Tricia finished the last of her chili, picked up the check, her jacket, purse, and the collection jar, and paid at the register. Minutes later she was back at Haven’t Got a Clue with time to spare before it was time for Ginny’s lunch break.

Tricia hung up her jacket, stashed her purse, and settled the collection jar beside the register.

“Another one of Libby Hirt’s soldiers against hunger, I see,” Ginny said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Yes. I hope we can help make a difference,” Tricia said. She opened the register and took out a couple of dollars in quarters, dimes, and nickels, adding it to the jar. The money made a rather shallow layer. It would take an awful lot of change to fill it.

A woman approached the cash desk and set four books down by the register. Tricia rang up the sale while Ginny bagged the books. The woman handed her thirty dollars, and Tricia returned her twenty cents change, which the woman promptly dropped into the collection can.

“Thank you,” Tricia said as Ginny stifled a grin.

The woman sketched a wave good-bye and headed out the door.