“You wanna stay out here for your phone call, or come in now?” Maddie asked.

“Where would I go if I come in later?”

“We’re all right there right inside the door, and don’t worry. I’ll see you. Or you can follow me in and meet the ladies now, and I can show you that quiet area to work.”

She was already getting chilly, so she indicated that she’d follow her inside. They climbed out, leaving their heavier coats and outerwear in the Bronco. Ryann brought her phone and tablet in her purse.

Inside was a whirlwind of activity and decorations. Several long picnic tables had been set end-to-end in three rows, all covered with red plastic tablecloths with white hearts. More of the usual cutouts and streamers hung on the walls and from the ceiling.

Seated at the tables were some forty or fifty seniors, mostly women, all with various boxes of letters next to them, all wearing a red volunteer T-shirt. One woman removed a large manila envelope, opened it with a knife, and then stamped the smaller letter inside with a red inkpad. Laughter and high, excited voices, hammering stamps, and a radio blaring Perry Como nearly pierced her ears.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” an older woman said, bustling toward them. “And you brought a friend. That’s great. We’re actually short two people today, so we could use the extra bodies.” She was wearing a bright-red shirt with white hearts, nearly identical to the tablecloths. Her hair was a bouffant of gray, almost bluish tight curls, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses.

“Doris, this is Ryann,” Maddie said. “Doris is the volunteer coordinator here.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ryann said, shaking her hand.

“And you, dear,” Doris said, grasping Ryann’s with her warm, soft ones.

“Unfortunately, Ryann has to make some phone calls and things for work,” Maddie explained. “She was just with me in the car.”

“Oh, well. That’s too bad,” Doris said, patting her hand a couple of times before letting it go. “We’ll make do, I guess. I can always call someone on the waiting list if it looks like we won’t have time.”

“Waiting list?” Ryann asked.

“There’s a long list of volunteers. We can pick only about fifty a year, though we’re hoping to move to a bigger space next year. It’s the most popular gig in town.”

“A waiting list for volunteers?” Ryann repeated.

Maddie laughed, steering her away. “We might have broken her, Doris. Let me show you to that quiet space I was talking about, Ryann.”

Maddie led her across the room to a door, greeting several people along the way. Behind the door was a small breakroom that had a tiny kitchen with a fridge, kettle, and microwave. The far corner had a little table and chairs, and Maddie indicated that she should sit there.