The trip across town took up most of the fifteen minutes, but they shouldn’t have worried about being late. As they pulled into the parking lot of the church’s recreational building there were plenty of parking places left.

“Oh, yikes,” said Scott. “Not many people are here.”

“It’s early yet,” said Miles. “Hurry, let’s get this stuff inside and set up.”

Miles threaded his arm through the basket’s handle, then lifted his side of the plastic tote. They scrambled up the ramp leading to the building’s side door which was being held open by a tiny woman in her eighties.

“Well, lookie there,” she said with a smile. “Someone’s been busy!”

Miles once again blushed, but Scott said, “Thanks for holding the door, Miss Phelps. Where can we set up?”

“Anywhere you like, boys,” she said. As Miles made his way past Minnie Phelps, she reached a cold hand out to gently grab him by his forearm. “Thank you for doing this for her,” she said quietly. “You’re a good man.” Miles nodded and quickly turned his eyes from Miss Phelps before she could see the water that began to fill them.

There were several tables set up for people to place their items for sale, but most were empty. Scott wanted to put their things at the table right underneath the banner reading, Stay Strong Emily! but Miles chose a space a few tables down the row.

“That table’s bigger,” said Scott and they began unpacking.

“I think that’s where Emily and Rhonda will be sitting,” said Miles. “Plus, I don’t want to ruffle any feathers.” He looked down at the poster board sign taped to the front of table they’d chosen. “Besides, I like this sign the best anyway.”

“Kick cancer’s butt?” read Scott with a chuckle.

“Heck yeah,” said Miles.