want to spend my free time getting reacquainted with you.”
“Are you certain I won’t be intruding on your social life?”
He grinned. “If that’s a subtle attempt to ask whether I’m active on the dating scene, the answer is no.” The corners of his lips leveled off. “My heart wasn’t in it after we lost Josh, and once I decided to make major changes in my life, the transition required all my energy and attention.”
“Your business appears to be established now, and from what I’ve observed, you’re settled in here at the house. It’s not healthy for a young man like you to be a hermit.”
“I’m not. I’m involved at church, and I’m active in the Helping Hands organization I mentioned earlier. In fact, there’s a meeting I’m supposed to attend tomorrow night about a new project, but I may forgo that. I don’t want you to spend the evening alone on your first full day in town.”
“Why don’t I go with you? Or would that be frowned upon?”
“The gathering is open to anyone who’s interested—but haven’t you attended enough meetings to last two lifetimes?”
“Depends. Is this one going to be as boring as listening to business managers drone on about accruals, depreciation, amortization, ROI, and EBIDA?”
He winced. “Sounds like an echo of my past life. The answer is no. Numbers may be discussed, but only in the context of the larger project.”
“Which is?”
“You sure you’re interested in this?”
“I’m interested in everything—in case you haven’t already figured that out.” She winked at him.
“Okay. I’ll give you the condensed version. Aside from a paid director, Helping Hands is a volunteer organization that does exactly what the name says. If someone’s in need, the group recruits volunteers to help. On occasion, the organization becomes more proactive if a worthwhile proposal is presented. That’s what happened with Hope House—the latest project. The idea was brought forward by our police chief’s husband, Adam Stone, who’s an ex-con.”
Stephanie’s eyebrows peaked. “Talk about opposites attracting.”
“Yeah—but from all indications, the matchup is working fine. Anyway, he read about an organization that purchases houses and provides houseparents so foster sibling groups can be kept intact and raised in a stable, loving home setting rather than being split up and bounced around from place to place. He hoped Helping Hands would be interested in sponsoring a house like that.”
“Seems like a worthwhile project.”
“The board agreed the idea was worth exploring. As it happens, one of our older residents is moving in with his son and has offered his home to the organization at a discounted price. Tomorrow’s meeting is to discuss whether to accept his offer—and if so, hash out next steps.”
She picked up the truffle she’d claimed earlier. “You should go.”
“I know they’re hoping for a big turnout—but I already told Frank I was on the fence.”
“Frank’s involved?”
“Yes. He’s on the board.”
“Admirable.”
“He volunteers at the Pelican Point lighthouse too. That’s another local nonprofit.”
“Impressive.” She examined the handcrafted candy. “What did he do before he became a barista?”
Her manner was conversational, but unless he was mistaken, there was more to that question than mere chitchat.
“Worked for the postal service. He retired five years ago, at fifty-eight. He and his wife dived into their bucket list, but she died suddenly two years later.”
Stephanie’s features softened. “How sad.”
“I agree. According to Frank, after he stumbled around in a daze for almost a year, he decided his wife would want him to carry on. He ended up selling his house in Coos Bay and moving here because he’d always loved this town. When he applied at the shop, he was honest about his lack of experience but said he’d enjoy interacting with customers and was willing to learn the business. I hired him on the spot. It was one of my best decisions.”
“I could tell from our brief meeting he was the amiable sort.”
“He’s more amiable with some than with others.” He waggled his eyebrows.
She waved off his comment. “Don’t be silly. You said yourself he likes people.”
“I repeat . . . some more than others.”
“Don’t get any ideas, Zach. You may be on the track to romance, but that train passed me by long ago.” She held up her truffle. “Let’s try your neighbor’s chocolates, shall we?” Without waiting for a response, she took a bite.
He picked one up too. “Trains can come along at—”
“Stop.” She held up her hand as an expression of pure bliss swept over her face. “Don’t ruin the moment. This is incredible. Wait till you taste it.”
Zach