“My wife just passed away.” It was quiet enough to remain private. Trudy nodded slowly and leaned into me compassionately.
“I’m sorry,” Trudy whispered back. I wasn’t sure if she was sorry about my wife or the fact she flirted.
“Thanks.”
“We have three more pots to fill,” Trudy said, returning to the job at hand. I think she saw my need for manual labor. When I returned with more meat, there were two spatulas at the grill. We worked in tandem with the next three batches. She didn’t flirt any more, but we bonded over the searing meat. She started humming ‘Amazing Grace’ as we cooked. I joined in after a few moments. Trudy smiled at me and I realized she was humming for Amber. I was touched that she understood, although she had never met my wife.
I turned to hand off the second pot of cooked meat to the next station. I caught Sadie staring at me. She clumsily went back to her paperwork. I wondered if she had heard my confession. I hoped she hadn’t. I only told Trudy to spare her feelings, and mine.
If you do prep, you get to eat first. It was a wonderful rule that my growling stomach appreciated immensely. I had been smelling food all day, and had had nothing but water. I was getting used to eating only once a day, but it’s tougher when watching it being prepared. There was no cheating or snacking in Sadie’s kitchen. I even had to wait for ‘Sugar Magnolia.’
Luckily, Houser was near the front of the line. I waited until he sat down before I started eating. It wasn’t so much manners as it was a show of friendship. I liked him liking me without the need for my past. I loved feeding off his lazy enthusiasm for life. It was refreshing. Houser lamented about the desert. He hated jello day and passed on his wiggly lemon chunk to me. I like jello. The mix of coolness and sweetness always seemed to please my tongue. Amber used to make triple-layered jello concoctions for me, mixing flavors that should never go together. She never found a combination I wouldn’t eat.
“Good evening, Houser.” Sadie had snuck up on us in the middle of our desert discussion. Houser nodded with mouth full of food. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. He nodded again. Sadie placed a plastic wrapped brownie on Houser’s tray. Houser smiled, showing all his awful teeth.
“I gots to get you warmer clothes,” Houser said, never taking his eyes off the brownie. I snapped my eyes up, looking after Sadie. She was moving off, back to the front of the line. Her flowered skirt, greenish this time, swaying confidently back and forth. The books must be in really bad shape.
Houser showed me the shelter where I could get some warmer clothes. It wasn’t exactly stylish, but I was now wearing an old brown jacket that looked like it might have been used by someone in construction, and a pair of military boots. The laces in the boots were brown and looked strange against the black leather. It was better than the old loafers I had been walking around in. I really looked the part now. Everything mismatched, but functional.
The next morning started the same as the first in all but one respect. Sadie was smiling when she opened the door. The books must be an absolute disaster. I took a shower, which I now appreciated greatly, and met Kevin . Kevin was a shy younger man who was to replace me on prep. We shared the dryer. Not unexpectedly, there were two of everything waiting for use. Two towels, two toothbrushes and two shampoos and soaps. Sadie never prepared more than necessary. Exactly what was needed and nothing more, but it was always exactly what was needed.
Sadie took me into a small office connected to the kitchen. It looked as clean and organized as the rest of the building. There were three four-drawer black file cabinets labeled by year, plus a small desk with an old computer and small printer. A stack of folders, each labeled with a month and year, were piled next to the keyboard.
“These are this year’s receipts.” Sadie pointed to the stack of folders, “I hope you are familiar with the accounting system.” She logged into a small business system I was quite familiar with. I nodded my head. So far so good. “Can you make sure it is all correct. Nothing can be wrong.” I looked at her worried expression. All of this seemed too neat and orderly to be worrisome. “You just want me to audit the books?” I asked, the surprise evident in my tone.
“Please, it’s important.” Sadie left before I sat down. She never even doubted I would do it, but I did note she used the word ‘please.’
I made myself familiar with Sadie’s chart of accounts and printed off a balance sheet as of the first of the year. With that starting point, I began matching receipts to journal entries. Her record keeping was meticulous. I had very little trouble reconstructing what she had done. There were no journal entries without supporting documentation and each receipt corresponded to an entry. I was impressed. It is rare to find such perfect record keeping. I ended with printing a current balance sheet and income statement. Everything was perfect to the penny. It had only taken me four hours to complete.
“What’s the verdict?” Sadie asked as I walked into the kitchen with my notes. She seemed apprehensive and I couldn’t understand where it was coming from. There was no way she could think her books were bad.
“All good,” I responded confidently, “you expensed some things as repairs that I probably would have capitalized, but you did it consistently. There is nothing wrong that I could find. In fact, they are very accurate and well done.” Sadie visibly let out the breath she had been holding.
“Do you think you could look at the three previous years?” It began to make sense.
“You’re getting audited,” I stated. Only the IRS could make someone like Sadie squirm. She waved me back into the office.
“Yes,” Sadie answered once we were alone. She pulled an envelope from a drawer and handed me the letter inside. The IRS was auditing her last three tax returns and wanted to examine her supporting documentation. There was a paragraph about providing necessary documentary support to maintain her charitable status. The letter seemed to be worded a bit differently than a standard audit letter. The amount of money involved usually didn’t generate IRS flags and certainly didn’t warrant an audit this deep.
“This seems a bit heavy-handed,” I offered when I handed back the letter.
“Will you look at the last three years?”
“Hell yes,” I answered, with some fight in my words. I never did like it when the IRS picked on the innocent. Frankly, Sadie was doing the world a favor. I had only known her for three days and I could tell the city needed her. “It will take a few days and I’ll need the tax returns.”
“Each year has its own drawer.” Sadie hastily pointed toward the file cabinets, “The first folder contains the tax returns.” “It will be alright,” I said, trying to calm her nervousness. “They can only go after fraud. I’ve seen nothing coming close to that. If your tax returns reflect your financials, this will be nothing but an annoyance.” Sadie looked slightly more relieved and even gave me half a smile.
“Thanks.” Sadie left the office for a moment then poked her head back in. “What the hell are you doing here?” I guess my skills didn’t make sense with my homelessness.
“Nothing criminal, I assure you,” I said in all honesty. Of course, if I was a criminal, I would have said the same thing. Sadie seemed to size me up and accept me at my word. Either that, or I was the only one convenient to trust. I was busy putting this year’s files into their proper drawer as she returned to work.
Kevin and I were in the front of the line when ‘Sugar Magnolia’ came over the speakers. It seems auditors gain the same rights and privileges as prep cooks. It was polish sausage night and Trudy winked at me and gave me a slightly larger portion. I winked back in a friendly way and waited for Houser again.
Houser was happy as ever. It was white cake night which was half way to a brownie for him. I think he measured his happiness in grams of sugar. I, on the other hand, prefer a more mellow desert. I moved my cake to his tray.
“I owe you,” Houser said with a mouth full of half-chewed polish sausage. I wished I could live day to day like he could. He seemed to have no concerns beyond the present. I envied the freedom he had built in his own mind. My mind was still lost in the past. My precious Amber was gone and I was forgetting her face. I could imagine her touch and her voice. It was her face that was fading. The rest would follow. My mind was too weak to hold on.
“You owe me nothing but good company,” I said. Houser laughed and told me about the boat he saw get caught among the pilings under the bridge earlier. It took the better part of the day and two more boats to get it free. To him, it was quality TV. I laughed when he told me how one guy was trying to rig a pull line while straddling both boats. They invariably pulled apart and sent the guy into the river. To Houser, the incident was as good as white cake. For me, a moment not lost in the past.
“Good evening, Houser.” Sadie had snuck up on us again. “Why don’t you show Frank how get a warm bed tonight.”
“Sadie, a man lives where he wants,” Houser stated firmly. It was funny watching him consolidate behind his beliefs. I was strangely flattered. Sadie rolled her eyes, reached into the pocket of her blue flowered skirt and placed a plastic-wrapped brownie on his tray. Houser smiled and I stared dumbfounded at Sadie. “But a man ought to know all the options,” Houser retracted quickly.
“Thank you, Houser.” Sadie never really looked at me. She just headed back to monitor the line.
“You’re the best thing I ever pulled out of the river,” Houser said slowly as he unwrapped his precious brownie.
“Did you tell Sadie how you found me?”
“That’s for you to say.” Houser took a small bite of the brownie, obviously trying to make it last. “Sometimes it’s best not to say — leave it in the past.” That I had to agree with.
I slept in a lumpy, but warm, bed that night with many other homeless guests. The shelter had rules, which I followed, and I was up, showered and out by 8:00 as directed. The rules were what kept Houser away. “If I want to sleep the day away, I will.” His words, not mine.