Chapter 8

“That’s stainless steel,” Wyatt said. “It doesn’t need polishing.”

“We didn’t think so,” Andrea said, “but we’re just following orders.”

“I suppose it needs done,” Wyatt said. “It’ll look better, I guess. See, look what a difference Andrew is making with the paint.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” Andrew asked as he dropped his paintbrush into the can.

“Come on, let’s get this truck unloaded.” Wyatt led the group of volunteers to the far end of the building and the loading dock. Once he opened the door, he wished he was alone—the others were going to give him hell for this.

On the floor directly in front of the now open bay door were large, seemingly random piles of food. Before he could stop himself, Wyatt said, “Cole, what the fuck?”

“Hey!” Cole said with smile. “I’m almost done.”

“What are you doing?” Wyatt said. “You were supposed to be organizing this stuff.”

“It’s organized,” said Cole. “Man, it took forever too.”