Maxwells Smile

movies to 583 different hospitals across the U.S., from Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles to Clark Memorial Hospital in Jeffersonville, Indiana—and the number continues to grow.
    Romi, the second oldest and now an actor, comedian and screenwriter in New York, is convinced that one reason for Kid Flicks’s popularity is its simplicity. The concept—donate children’s DVDs to hospitals—is easy for anyone to understand and even easier to get involved with.
    “It has given me a lot of hope that one small idea can build and gain steam from other people’s support and energy. It has blossomed out of other people’s kindness,” she says, mentioning one child on his birthday who asked that party guests donate DVDs to Kid Flicks in lieu of birthday presents.
    Close family far apart
    Although all four girls have since grown up to become women living in far-flung locations from New York to Chicago to Los Angeles, they remain dedicated to Kid Flicks. Today the movies are shipped to their father’s law office, then brought back to the family home to be stored (in the pool house, the living room and sometimes in their dad’s car) before being delivered. So far there has nearly always been one sister living in L.A. to step in while the others finish school. Yet even while the sisters have been at school, Kid Flicks has been part of their lives to varying degrees.
    “The great thing about Kid Flicks is that we can choose when we can dedicate a lot of time to it,” says Marni. “There are four of us working on it, so we can shift who has the bulk of the responsibility.”
    The arrangement does seem to work. Back when Marni was an eleventh-grade student and her older sisters were away at college, the Barta sisters won the President’s Volunteer Service Award and were invited to meet the president and tour Air Force One . They visited the White House later that year.
    When Marni met the president as he landed in California, her father beamed and told her, “In my fifty years, I’ve never reached a point in my career when I’ve done anything like you have.”
    Marni pauses for a moment before finishing the story.
    “It just shows that it’s not about how old you are. You don’t have to be a certain age to do something good.”

Michele Hauf

    Maxwell’s Smile

Michele Hauf has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. Her first published novel was Dark Rapture. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries populate her stories. And if she followed the adage “write what you know,” all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries she has never visited and creatures she has never seen.
    Michele can also be found on Facebook and Twitter and michelehauf.com. You can also write to Michele at: P.O. Box 23, Anoka, MN 55303.

For Ashley

Chapter One
    The rust bucket groaned to a stop in the parking lot outside the local hospital. The small town of Birch Cove, where Sam Jones worked as a handyman, edged the Twin Cities suburbs. He patted the 1974 Ford pickup’s dashboard and then sneezed at the dust that filled the cab.
    “You may not be pretty,” he said to the vehicle, which was held together in some spots with a lacing of rust, “but you are reliable.”
    Swinging his well-worn work boots out of the cab, he landed on the ground with a purposeful jump. Flakes of sawdust sifted from his shoulders and the creases in his jeans. Best way to shake off the morning’s work. He thumbed the hardened wood glue smeared along the thigh of his jeans, grimaced, then decided he looked better than on the days his face was coated with white Sheetrock dust.
    From the truck bed, he grabbed the cardboard box of DVDs he’d cleaned out from the entertainment center in his basement last night. Boots clomping on the pavement, he strode inside the airy lobby of the newly refurbished hospital. The receptionist gave him directions to the patient resources office.
    Sam clutched the box a little tighter, feeling a weary sadness spread across his shoulders. His plan was to get in and get out without passing through the children’s ward. Unfortunately that was the straightest path to patient resources. He turned a corner and walked by a room where a young girl sat on a big, imposing bed. A pink bandanna covered her tiny head, and no light shone in her tired eyes.
    Sam nodded to her and offered a quick smile, but she merely