Page 10 of Fated Mates and How to Seduce Them
“No, we’re not tech-savvy here,” Mary acknowledged ruefully. “Although it might help if we had one. Please, come with me. Let’s start here.”
“Here” turned out to be a commercial-sized kitchen, and it very much looked like it had been an addition some thirty years ago. André walked along with the ladies, taking it all in. The place looked worn down.
“Some of our urgent repairs start here,” Emma informed him as they walked through. “Both of these stoves are failing, only one eye functioning on each. We lost a refrigerator last week. We suspect there’s a leak under the far-left sink, as the floor over there is constantly damp, but we can’t find it ourselves. Getting a plumber out here isn’t something we can afford right now.”
André turned and took it all in. That was not a good tally. It meant they only had one functioning stove and range and one refrigerator. “How many people are you feeding?”
“We have thirty-six children and eight staff,” Mary answered. “But the staff don’t live here. Only Emma and I do. The rest we feed at lunch, but they go home to their own families for dinner.”
So forty-four people with one stove? How the hell were they managing?
André immediately pulled out his phone and started taking notes. “I see the problem. Keep going, please.”
They took him back out into the hallway, walking down it to a four-way, where another hallway intersected.
“This bathroom is no longer functional.” Mary pointed to a door with a KEEP OUT sign taped to it. “The plumbing isn’t right in there, either, and part of the roof failed. It’s not safe to go in there.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say therooffailed? As in, it caved in?”
“Well, it’s not quite that bad.” Mary paused. “Or it wasn’t the last time we dared to look.”
Holy shit. André grew flabbergasted past words. “I’m afraid to ask, how many functional bathrooms does that leave in this building?”
“Two.”
He stared at Mary, jaw steadily dropping. “For over forty people?”
“We have everyone on a schedule.” Mary winced. “We’re making it work.”
Yeah, no. André would get the bathroom fixed ASAP. He shuddered in horror, just thinking of how insane sharing with that many people must be.
Emma led him up the stairs and showed him the many bedrooms where all the kids slept. There were at least two bunk beds in each room, the space beyond tight. He saw precious few dressers, which meant the kids didn’t have much in the way of changes of clothes. Even the blankets looked worn and thin, well past the point of needing to be replaced.
What kind of shoe-string budget had they been operating on?
André had seen group homes with even less resources than this before his family stepped in to help, so he wasn’t a strangerto witnessing poverty. He hated seeing it, though, and was glad he’d come this direction, even if he’d had less than pure motives to start.
Emma brought him back down to the main floor, and he finally came into an area with other people. Incredibly huge, it seemed to be two rooms put together? There were signs a wall had been knocked out to connect them. Wait, no, it was two rooms and a porch that had been enclosed, so large you could play tennis in here, which made sense with the two long tables eating up a good half of it.
The kids were all spread out, doing some kind of craft at the table. Sewing? They were focused, but a few joked and cut up, someone had music playing, and the younger kids apparently just sewed whatever color leapt into their hands. Who knew what they were doing.
“Saturday mornings, we try to teach the children some kind of life skill,” Mary explained, gesturing to the table. “How to sew and repair clothes, for instance. The older children take turns helping us prepare meals so they know how to cook when they leave us. It’s why Ian is so handy with things. He was always diligent about learning useful skills.”
The full implications of her words hit. André stared at Mary with wide eyes, his earlier question becoming clear at once.
The mysterious connection Ian had with this place? He was raised here.
Shit, why hadn’t André considered the possibility before? But wait, hadn’t Ian mentioned a father?
Mary caught his look and paused. “Didn’t he tell you he lived here for a while?”
“I…no. I just knew he volunteered here regularly.”
Mary had a peculiar expression. “Oh. Well, he was adopted at thirteen, although his poor adoptive father died last year, leaving him alone again. Most of our children who leave us don’t comeback, although they do stay in touch. Ian’s our treasure, always helping us out.”
André’s heart thudded in a mournful way. The sweet, kindhearted man was an orphan? Twice over, no less. Shit. André didn’t like the idea of there being no one looking out for Ian. He really, really didn’t like it.
Well, this oversight would change soon. Not that Ian knew it just yet. André would work him around to his plans, one way or another.
