The soup kitchen in the church basement was open every weekday. Forty to fifty people showed up regularly for the hot midday meal. Some were hungry and in need of food. She suspected that others were there for companionship. Most seemed to know one another. There was no charge for the meal. Chiyo had made a commitment to work twice a week, on days when she was free over the lunch hour, usually Wednesdays and Thursdays. She was told that for Saturday and Sunday meals, a second soup kitchen was open at a local mission not far from the church, but that was run by a separate organization.

Communal tables had already been set up in the church basement, chairs in place, before the outside doors were unlocked. Another volunteer explained that the tables stayed up throughout the week unless the space was needed for some evening event. Tables and chairs were folded and stacked along the side of the room, as necessary. The kitchen was broad, with a high ceiling, long stainless counters on one side, spacious paint-chipped cupboards above those, a huge white table in the centre, electric ranges on the opposite side, along with two deep sinks and a large dishwasher. In the room where the food was served, the ceiling was low, pipes and beams evident. Turkey suppers as fundraisers used to be served there during Thanksgiving and Christmas, and Chiyo had attended more than a few with her mom. Over the past two decades, those had been replaced by free meals for the needy. The entire place was familiar, even welcoming. A large Christmas tree in one corner of the room had been decorated with garlands that glittered of silver and gold. Strings of multicoloured lights flashed on and off like signals from a lighthouse.

The person showing Chiyo the ropes was a woman named Dottie, assistant to the man who managed the operation. In total, there were five workers on duty. The program manager, referred to as Luther, was away in Hamilton at a conference. He was supposed to be returning sometime today.

“Luther’s easy to work for,” said Dottie. “He’s a bit frantic—he kind of darts around and expects us to do the same. Don’t be put off; we all like him, and we like working for him. And I forgot to tell you: now that winter is here, it’s okay to open the outside doors a half hour early on exceptionally cold days, even though the meal is served at twelve sharp. Also, all phones are to be turned off during the meal.”

Other jobs, beyond preparing and serving food, were to set out paper napkins; carry food from kitchen to serving line; refill stainless steel containers as they emptied; ensure a steady supply of coffee, tea, water and juice; wipe out the fridge; wipe the counters; wipe the tables as people finished eating.

Chiyo recognized faces from the previous day. In turn, she was greeted as if she’d been there forever. There was a kind of steady beat to this, an urgent drive to get through the work alongside the others, serve the food, do the cleaning, put away dishes, hang or stack pots and pans, and set up for the next day. While all this was going on, a steady banter with the diners was taking place. With Dottie at her side, Chiyo eased her way into the routine. Her new winter class would be starting up in the evening, and she’d have plenty of time to go home first. Spence would be coming for the weekend, and she planned to stop in at Marvin’s after leaving the church to pick up a few groceries.