The rules did not allow them to stay past eight o’clock. Many had jobs, but those who didn’t were expected to be on the streets looking for employment. Brother Manny and his staff were very successful in placing their “friends,” even if the work was often part-time and minimum wage. Breakfast was served upstairs in the fellowship hall, where volunteers manned the small kitchen and prepared eggs, toast, oatmeal, and cereal. And it was served with a smile, a warm “Good morning” for everyone, and a quick prayer of thanks once they were all seated. Brother Manny, a notorious late sleeper, preferred to delegate the early-morning duties at his compound. For the past month, the kitchen had been organized and supervised by Baxter Tate, a smiling young man who’d never boiled water in his previous life. Baxter scrambled eggs by the dozen, toasted loaves of white bread, prepared the oatmeal—real, not instant—and also restocked the supplies, washed the dishes, and he, Baxter Tate, often said the prayer.
