Chapter 42 — When Everyone Is Angry

By the time the evening meal ended, Hallie had been told the limit was unfair in four different ways. One man thought residents who had been in Cedar Draw longer should receive more. Another thought anyone working a full shift should be exempt.

The woman who had withdrawn her extra hour still believed Hallie had punished the people who had helped her. And one of the residents who had opposed the intake from the beginning said the whole problem proved they should have turned the newcomers away. Hallie listened to each of them.

None of them left happier. That bothered her more than she wanted it to.

She stood beside the board after the room had begun to empty and stared at the single line that had caused so much anger. The same temporary limit. The same amount for everyone using the shared meal.

Agreement had felt cleaner when she imagined leadership from the outside. If everyone hated a decision, some part of her still wanted to assume that meant she had failed. But dislike was not evidence.

Hallie pulled the count sheet from beneath the board.

“Caleb.”

He was collecting the last of the serving notes from one of the tables.

He looked over. “You changing it?”

“I’m checking it.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“No.”

His mouth moved slightly.

Hallie ignored that and held out the sheet. “I want the actual numbers after tonight. Not the estimate from before the meal.”

Caleb handed her the notes.

Together they counted what had been used, what remained, and what had been set aside for needs that had nothing to do with dinner. Hallie checked the totals twice. Then she asked about the work shift the woman had refused to cover.

“Finished without the extra hour,” Caleb said.

“Did someone else lose time because of it?”

“No.”

“Did anyone miss the meal?”

“No.”

“Anyone ask for more because the portion wasn’t enough?”

“A few complained.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Caleb met her eyes.

“No one came to me saying they hadn’t eaten enough to work or sleep.”

Hallie nodded and went back to the page.

The decision still had a cost. It had not magically become pleasant because the numbers held.

But it held.

A voice behind her said, “You know you can let me take some of this.”

Grant. Hallie turned.

Most of the common room had cleared. A few people were still stacking bowls. Grant stood far enough from the board that no one could pretend he had been directing the count.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means I can stand in front of them tomorrow and say the limit stays because I’m keeping it.”

Hallie looked at him. He did not sound eager. That mattered.

“You would?”

“Yes.”

“Even though I made the decision.”

“Yes.”

She understood the offer then. Not rescue disguised as authority. A shield, if she wanted one.

Hallie looked down at the count sheet again.

“No.”

Grant left the silence open.

“If you say it’s yours, then everyone who’s angry with me gets to decide I was only borrowing your power.”

“They may decide that anyway.”

“They can be wrong.”

Something in his expression shifted. Hallie folded the sheet once.

“I made the choice. Caleb checked whether it would work. I checked again after people actually lived with it. It still works.”

“And you still want to keep it.”

“Yes.”

“Then keep it.”

She exhaled. It should have ended there. Instead, the words came out before she could make them smaller.

“I’m tired.”

Grant’s attention sharpened. Hallie looked away toward the tables.

“Not tired enough to change it. Just…” She rubbed her thumb along the fold in the paper. “I’m tired of every decision becoming a test of whether I belong here. I’m tired of someone being angry no matter which part I protect. And I’m tired of knowing that if I make one bad call, half the room will think it proves every bad thing they already believed about me.”

Grant held the silence for a moment, and Hallie almost regretted admitting it.

Then he said, “That sounds exhausting.”

She gave him a look.

“That’s all?”

“What do you want me to say?”

She considered the question. Nothing useful came to mind. Grant nodded once, as if that answered him.

“You don’t have to pretend it costs nothing just because you’re keeping the decision.”

The pressure behind Hallie’s ribs eased a fraction. He had not told her she was right. He had not told her everyone would come around.

He had not taken the weight from her hands. He had simply acknowledged that she was carrying it. Hallie looked at the board again.

“Tomorrow they’ll still be angry.”

“Probably.”

“That was not comforting.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

This time she almost smiled. Caleb returned with one final note from the kitchen side of the room.

“Nothing changed in the count,” he said. “We can hold the same limit tomorrow if the headcount stays where it is.”

Hallie took the note. The value of it was practical rather than emotional.

Not reassurance. A fact she could use. She added it to the others and pinned the updated count beside the temporary limit where anyone could inspect it.

A man passing the doorway stopped.

“You’re really keeping that?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “I still hate it.”

Hallie met his eyes.

“You’re allowed to.”

He seemed to expect more. There wasn’t any. After a moment, he walked on.

Grant stayed beside the wall. Hallie did not ask him to speak. The decision remained hers, and after checking everything she could check, she kept it.