long, fine-boned fingers gripped it tightly. With her other hand, she brushed aside blonde bangs.
“You chose this instead of food. It must be really important to you.” He stared into her wide gray-blue eyes.
She studied him, uncertainty in her gaze.
“Got a name?”
“Jill Davies.” A hesitant smile graced her full-lipped mouth.
“I’m Cory Evershine.” Something swept over him, and before he could think it through properly, he blurted, “Would you like something to eat? We can go across the street to the café—my treat,” he offered. Giddiness washed through his heart. He’d actually charmed a smile out of her.
“Okay,” she said, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear her.
He turned and said over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to have one of my employees watch the store while I’m gone, okay?”
She nodded once, twice.
He hurried back to the market. The world brightened, sounds intensified. The honk of a horn and the aroma of exhaust all seemed wonderful.
His cell phone chimed in his pants pocket. Cory fished it out and glanced at the caller ID. Toddy. Quickly, he answered the call, eager to return to the young woman waiting for him.
“Toddy? What’s up?”
“Would you mind picking up a loaf of white bread and a bottle of Coke for us?” Toddy’s soft, masculine voice traveled the airwaves. “Bryant forgot to stop at the grocery store after work last night. He has a headache, and I’m in the middle of a load of paperwork.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“One of us will pay you back when you get in later.”
“Toddy, she’s here. It was so weird, but she took a travel kit instead of food. She finally noticed the little two-way mirror and bolted from the store, but I caught up to her outside. Got her to agree to let me feed her at the café.”
A tsking sound soughed through the cell phone. “Why are you still talking to me? Go to her, man. Feed her; find out about her!”
“Later, Toddy.”
Cory slapped the phone shut, and, minutes later, he returned terrified that she had disappeared and he’d never see her again. Upon stepping outside, he saw she still remained by the mailbox, her ratty coat wrapped tightly around her too-thin body.
“This way,” he said and motioned toward the crosswalk. She crossed the street with him, but maintained a good three or four feet between them. The early spring wind tugged at her coat. Cory could only imagine how cold she must be at night. Inside the restaurant, he ordered them both burgers with the works, onion rings, and chocolate shakes.
He said nothing as she ate. The woman must not have eaten for days. She crammed onion rings in as fast as she could chew. Once they were gone, she slowed down and concentrated on the burger. She ate slowly as if each bite was a delicacy.
After Jill demolished her meal, she sat quietly staring out the window of their booth seat. She tore a napkin into confetti.
Cory asked, “Don’t you have any family? Friends?” He pushed the last of his onion rings toward her.
She wiped up ketchup with one of them, popped it into her mouth, and shrugged. Chewing, she answered, “I have my mom...but she lives with my Aunt Rachel.”
“If you have family, then why are you—?” Uncertain how to finish, Cory searched for the right words. He could say the wrong thing and out the door she’d go. He’d probably never see her again.
“Living on the streets?” Jill offered him a sad smile that tugged at his heart. “When I turned eighteen, Aunt Rachel kicked me out. She said I was old enough to live on my own, that she was tired of supporting me.” Jill sighed heavily. “She threw me out two days after graduation. That was three years ago.” She slurped the last of the shake and reddened a bit at the rude sound. “I found a dollar in the gutter this morning, so instead of a cup of coffee or a donut, I bought a stamped envelope and wrote my mom a letter. I told her all about my wonderful
“You chose this instead of food. It must be really important to you.” He stared into her wide gray-blue eyes.
She studied him, uncertainty in her gaze.
“Got a name?”
“Jill Davies.” A hesitant smile graced her full-lipped mouth.
“I’m Cory Evershine.” Something swept over him, and before he could think it through properly, he blurted, “Would you like something to eat? We can go across the street to the café—my treat,” he offered. Giddiness washed through his heart. He’d actually charmed a smile out of her.
“Okay,” she said, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear her.
He turned and said over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to have one of my employees watch the store while I’m gone, okay?”
She nodded once, twice.
He hurried back to the market. The world brightened, sounds intensified. The honk of a horn and the aroma of exhaust all seemed wonderful.
His cell phone chimed in his pants pocket. Cory fished it out and glanced at the caller ID. Toddy. Quickly, he answered the call, eager to return to the young woman waiting for him.
“Toddy? What’s up?”
“Would you mind picking up a loaf of white bread and a bottle of Coke for us?” Toddy’s soft, masculine voice traveled the airwaves. “Bryant forgot to stop at the grocery store after work last night. He has a headache, and I’m in the middle of a load of paperwork.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“One of us will pay you back when you get in later.”
“Toddy, she’s here. It was so weird, but she took a travel kit instead of food. She finally noticed the little two-way mirror and bolted from the store, but I caught up to her outside. Got her to agree to let me feed her at the café.”
A tsking sound soughed through the cell phone. “Why are you still talking to me? Go to her, man. Feed her; find out about her!”
“Later, Toddy.”
Cory slapped the phone shut, and, minutes later, he returned terrified that she had disappeared and he’d never see her again. Upon stepping outside, he saw she still remained by the mailbox, her ratty coat wrapped tightly around her too-thin body.
“This way,” he said and motioned toward the crosswalk. She crossed the street with him, but maintained a good three or four feet between them. The early spring wind tugged at her coat. Cory could only imagine how cold she must be at night. Inside the restaurant, he ordered them both burgers with the works, onion rings, and chocolate shakes.
He said nothing as she ate. The woman must not have eaten for days. She crammed onion rings in as fast as she could chew. Once they were gone, she slowed down and concentrated on the burger. She ate slowly as if each bite was a delicacy.
After Jill demolished her meal, she sat quietly staring out the window of their booth seat. She tore a napkin into confetti.
Cory asked, “Don’t you have any family? Friends?” He pushed the last of his onion rings toward her.
She wiped up ketchup with one of them, popped it into her mouth, and shrugged. Chewing, she answered, “I have my mom...but she lives with my Aunt Rachel.”
“If you have family, then why are you—?” Uncertain how to finish, Cory searched for the right words. He could say the wrong thing and out the door she’d go. He’d probably never see her again.
“Living on the streets?” Jill offered him a sad smile that tugged at his heart. “When I turned eighteen, Aunt Rachel kicked me out. She said I was old enough to live on my own, that she was tired of supporting me.” Jill sighed heavily. “She threw me out two days after graduation. That was three years ago.” She slurped the last of the shake and reddened a bit at the rude sound. “I found a dollar in the gutter this morning, so instead of a cup of coffee or a donut, I bought a stamped envelope and wrote my mom a letter. I told her all about my wonderful
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