hired Eugenie Tyler, a high school senior, to help out in the café, but Seth still liked to mingle with his customers.
Charlotte thought with amusement that when Eugenie tried to keep up with Seth, she looked like a fledging bird in a nest watching an eagle swoop around her. But she was always pleasant and worked hard.
She also thought that it was a good thing that Seth’s wife, Rena, was quiet and generally unflappable. It not only made her an effective teacher, it also provided the perfect balance for Seth’s boundless energy.
Charlotte believed that there was a perfect match for everyone, at least in theory. Unfortunately, she hadn’t yet met her perfect match.
Inexplicably, she pictured Paul Belvedere’s deep brown eyes and the way he had studied her face as if he was trying to make a decision about her.
She brought her attention back to Bridget.
“Speaking of being a homebody,” she said, “I need to get handier with repairs and stuff. There are so many things around the house that need fixing up, but I’m afraid of ruining it if I tackle anything.”
“I wish I could help,” Bridget said. “But you know I’m no better.”
A melodic chime sounded in the café, signaling that someone else had entered. As usual, almost everyone looked to see who the new arrival was. Charlotte followed suit and saw Paul and Tyson coming in.
She had no explanation for the way her heart suddenly sped up.
Tyson had his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans, and his reddish mop of hair looked like it could use a cut. Beside him, in a black T-shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders and a pair of blue jeans, his uncle looked strong, and like he could handle any situation that life threw his way.
Except Charlotte could still see the shadow of a deep weariness in his eyes. She wanted to know more about him, about what put those shadows in his eyes.
Tyson had spotted her and was sidling up to their table, looking awestruck to see her. It always entertained Charlotte the way her students acted like they had run into a celebrity—or an alien—if they saw her outside the classroom.
Tyson grinned shyly. “Hi, Ms. Connelly! Did you have breakfast?” he asked.
“I did,” Charlotte told him. “The pancakes were delicious.”
He nodded as if pondering the secrets of the universe. Paul came over to their table. “Hi,” he said glancing at Charlotte, then at Bridget.
“Hi!” Bridget chirped. “And what brings you two handsome gentlemen out this morning?”
“Who’s she talking about?” Tyson said in an audible whisper, and Charlotte fought the urge to giggle.
“We’ve come out for some breakfast, too,” Paul answered Bridget. “For a special treat.”
“And we forgot to buy eggs,” Tyson added.
“I sometimes forget to buy things, too,” Charlotte said to Tyson, hoping Paul knew he shouldn’t be too hard on himself.
Their gazes met, and his eyes had a glimmer of thanks in them.
“Hey, Paul,” Bridget piped up, “I’ve heard you’re good at repairs and things. Char here was just telling me that she could use some help with her house.”
Charlotte shot her cousin a warning look.
“Really?” Paul said. “I’d be happy to come over and give you a hand.”
“Oh, that’s okay, you don’t have to,” Charlotte said, flustered.
“No, I’d like to,” Paul said. “It would mean a lot to me if I could contribute in some way.”
Charlotte understood the feeling of wanting to make a contribution.
“Okay, then,” she said. “I’d be happy to accept your assistance.”
Tyson wandered over to select a coloring book and crayons from the basket Seth kept for the children at the front.
“Did you see those reading sheets I sent home with Tyson?” Charlotte asked. “He’s doing quite well, but I think just a bit more practice would really make a difference. I can go over them in more detail with you, if you like?”
For a moment she thought she saw a panicked expression flash across Paul’s face, but then it was gone. He gave a tight smile and said, “That’s fine, we’ll get to them. It’s just been a busy week.”
Charlotte nodded. “I understand,” she said. She would make sure that she encouraged and supported them both.
“Just know I’m here to help if you need it,” she added.
Paul nodded. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Got your coloring book?” he called over to Tyson.
“Yup, and crayons, too.” The little boy came back to stand beside his uncle.
“Hey, Paul!” Seth hurried over. “Have a seat, and whatever you want, it’s on the house. Thanks a lot for looking at the car. We really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.”
Paul said the right words, but Charlotte saw from his face that he wasn’t comfortable being praised.
“Let’s go find a table, Ty,” he said to his nephew. “Say goodbye to the ladies.”
“Goodbye, ladies,” Tyson intoned obediently.
Charlotte grinned. “Enjoy your weekend, Tyson. See you at school on Monday.”
Just as they were about to walk away, Paul turned back and asked, “When did you say those community activities were?”
“Wednesday nights,” Charlotte said. Paul nodded as he made his way to a table on the other side of the café, where Tyson was sitting.
“What was that all about?” Bridget asked in a hushed tone. “Are you guys friends?”
“His nephew is a student in my class,” Charlotte replied, deliberately not answering the question she knew Bridget was really asking.
Especially since there was no other answer to give, was there?
* * *
After breakfast at the café, Charlotte went home to do her Saturday chores around the house. As she dusted and swept, her thoughts kept returning to Paul Belvedere. She couldn’t escape the nagging feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling her. On the other hand, he was trying to connect.
Lord, please be with Paul and Tyson and please help me to help them in the best way I can.
Charlotte picked up the dishcloth and wiped the counter and around the burners of the stove. The motion helped soothe her racing thoughts.
She knew her home would never be as pristinely immaculate as the one she grew up in, but that suited her just fine. She loved the earthy tones, the fact that not everything matched perfectly, her collection of knickknacks that ranged from lovely to humorous and the fact that her bookshelves bulged from floor to ceiling and still couldn’t contain everything she wanted to read.
Her home was her haven, and she was content there. Or at least she had been. Why was it that lately she felt like she wanted to go somewhere where no one knew her? She looked at the computer that sat on her kitchen table and promised herself that she would make time for more missionary-work research later.
She was scrubbing especially hard at a remnant of spaghetti sauce on the stove top when the phone rang, causing her to jump.
“Charlotte, dear, it’s Mom.” Her mother sounded weary. “How are you? I just wanted to touch base with you.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” she said. “How was your day? How’s your head feeling today? Did you and Dad get to the farmer’s market?” Her