The two of them climbed the stairs to their bedroom.

“This could really work,” Ellie said. “This could solve our problem.”

“I guess we’ll know once the family arrives,” Seymour said. He sat on their bed wheezing.

“We’ve got nothing to lose.” Ellie put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Except our privacy.”

“I guess,” Seymour whispered.

Ellie nodded yes when she returned to the kitchen. Mrs. Sanchez smiled. Seymour saw her out.

“Don’t worry. It will work,” Ellie said, concerned about the lines around Seymour’s eyes after he returned. “Where is your faith? Mrs. Sanchez looked professional enough, or why would Hashem have sent her?”

“Maybe he’s testing us,” Seymour said.

“He’s always testing us,” Ellie said. “And we manage.”

She sent up a prayer of gratitude, the card “Helping Hands — Helpers of All Kinds” in her hand. Then she sang as she loaded the dishwasher.

***

The next few days, Ellie prepared the kids’ old rooms. Seymour installed towel racks next to the darkroom sink.

The following week Monday came and went; no one arrived. On Tuesday, Ellie left a message on the company’s voice mail. Mrs. Sanchez called back to say there had been a delay and to expect the family soon. Would they mind a few men as well? Seymour set up an extra cot in the darkroom. On Wednesday, at 11 at night, Ellie heard a soft knock on the door. She put down her book and woke Seymour. She descended the stairs, with Seymour right behind her. On their front porch a pair of tired-looking brown-skinned parents holding sleepy children looked at her. She smelled dirt and cigarettes on the two men standing on the porch behind them looking down at their shoes.

“Come in,” Ellie said, relieved that the wait was over.

“Sorry, we so late in the evening,” the woman said. Ellie ushered them into the front hall and pointed towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms.

“Why don’t you take the parents upstairs so they can put their children to bed?” Ellie turned to Seymour. “Make sure to show them the bathroom and give them enough towels. I’ll warm up something for the adults in the kitchen.”

Ellie pointed to the two men, and they followed behind her as she led them out back to the garage. They had a fine layer of dust on them as if they had been rolling in the sand. Their faces brown and creased from the sun. Tears filled their eyes when she pointed at the cots and the towels by the sink and said, “Para ustedes, for you.”

They clung to the towels, and she noticed how dry, rough, and cut up their hands looked, as if they wore wrinkled leather gloves. She would bring them hand cream later.

“Tienen hambre?” She moved her hands to her lips to indicate eating.

“Sí, señora,” one of the men said.

“Wash up and then cinco minutos en la cocina? Five minutes. Comprende?”

The men nodded their heads.

Ellie took out the chicken noodle soup from the refrigerator, cut the bread, and poured water. She set bowls, spoons, a margarine knife, and small plates on the large table. The men entered the kitchen first. When the parents arrived, Ellie ladled out the soup.

“Help yourself,” Ellie said.

They did not take their eyes off her. When Seymour joined them, Ellie pointed at herself and said, “Ellie,” and then to Seymour and said his name. Their guests nodded their heads. Ellie couldn’t tell if they were shy or too tired to reply.

“Claudia,” the woman said. “Y Carlos, mi esposo, husband. This is Juan and Guillermo.”

“Bienvenidos, welcome.” Ellie gestured at their empty glasses. “Agua?”

“Sí, señora.”

Ellie filled their glasses and set a pitcher on the table. Carlos put his hand to his mouth to cover his yawns. They emptied their bowls. Ellie nodded indicating they could leave. “Gracias y buenas noches,” Juan and Guillermo said, rising from the table.

The men went to their rooms. Claudia stayed behind to wash the dishes.

“Gracias,” Ellie said when Claudia finished.

“De nada.” Claudia smiled at Ellie. “Buenas noches y gracias por su comida y su casa.”

“You’re welcome and good night to you.”

Ellie waited for the sounds in the house to cease. She, then, sent out another prayer of gratitude to Hashem for bringing them to her. After climbing up the stairs to their bedroom, Ellie peeked into each room and heard the sounds of rising and falling breath. Ellie put a nightlight in the bathroom. It was 1:30 in the morning when she finally crawled into bed.

“What’s supposed to happen tomorrow?” Seymour whispered.

“You’re still awake?” Ellie said. “The men will be picked up for work. Claudia will have job interviews to be a maid. We’ll watch the children until the parents have their routines settled.”

“When will we get money for room and board?” Seymour said.

“They should have some now. At the first of the month, we’ll collect the balance, and the next month’s rent,” Ellie said. “With the men here, we’ll have even more money.”

“What should we tell the neighbors about all these people coming and going?”

“It’s as if we had one of our own kids and their family move in,” Ellie said. “And it’s none of their business.”

Seymour squeezed her arm as if to say I can always count on you. She closed her eyes and prayed for the strength to carry out such responsibilities.