A Treasure of the Heart

Helen laughed. “That’s a new one.”

“It’s her hair,” Lillie said with a smile. “One of her friends teased her about letting the gray grow out and she refuses to let anyone else see it till it’s long enough to have all the dyed parts cut off. That’s why she’s been staying home.”

“Makes perfect sense to me. I used to be a redhead, back when I thought it mattered. Now, who cares? Plain brown is fine at my age. Besides, all the good men are taken.”

“I think you look nice.”

“Thanks. Speaking of good men, how’s your love life? Didn’t I hear you were thinkin’ of gettin’ married a while back?”

“That’s old news,” Lillie said flatly. “It didn’t work out.”

“Well, you always have your career,” Helen offered.

That smarted. “Not exactly. I quit my job.”

“Uh-oh. Does Darla Sue know?”

“No. I didn’t see any reason to mention it right away, considering all the other problems she’s facing. I’ll find work locally before I tell her.”

From the kitchen came a shouted “You can have my job!”

Lillie laughed. “Sorry, Rosie, I’m a terrible cook. You’re stuck, at least till I can convince Gram her hair doesn’t look funny.”

She made another trip to the dirty-dish cart. It had been years since she’d helped out in the café like this and she wasn’t as adroit as she’d once been. When she finished scooping refuse and turned, she realized she was sporting a smear of the restaurant’s trademark red-eye gravy across the front of her formerly pristine pink blouse.

“Oh, yuck.” She grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at the stain, knowing the grease mark was probably already permanent.

The bell over the front door tinkled. She looked up from her cleaning project and saw a man entering. His leather jacket made him look like a cross between a member of a biker gang and a handsome, intriguing World War II fighter pilot. She’d opened her mouth to tell him politely that they were about to close when Helen elbowed her.

“That’s him,” the waitress hissed. “The preacher I told you about. His name’s James something-or-other.” She paused and sighed. “Poor man. He looks really beat.”

“And hungry,” Lillie added, noting the little lines of stress creasing his forehead above dark eyebrows and warm brown eyes. “I suppose it would be neighborly to feed him, even this late.”

“Not unless you want Rosie to pitch a fit,” Helen gibed. “She’s more than ready to go home.”

Lillie figured it was probably better to avoid conflict so she stuck out her right hand and went to head off the hungry preacher before he could sit down.

“Hello. I’m really sorry but we’re about to close,” she said, hoping the wash rag she was holding in front of her hid the soiled spot on her blouse.

“The way my day’s been going, that figures.” He shook her hand, then glanced at his fingers, which caused her to do the same. In her haste to stop him she’d inadvertently offered a hand that still had gravy on it.

Her cheeks warmed. “Oops. Sorry. We were cleaning up.”

“That’s okay. If I was really hungry I suppose I could just lick my fingers.”

In the background, Helen giggled. The dirty look Lillie gave her only made her laugh more.

“I’m James Warner,” the man said as he wiped his hands on a paper napkin he’d snagged from one of the tables.

“Lillie Delaney.” She was about to explain her relationship to Darla Sue when he grabbed her hand a second time and pumped it eagerly, gravy and all. “So, you’re Lillie. I am glad to finally meet you. Your grandmother has nothing but good things to say about you.”

“She’s prejudiced,” Lillie said, feeling her cheeks reddening more. She wished Gram had talked about the new preacher so she’d know more about him than Helen’s notion that some folks seemed to be out to get him.

“And rightly so. Imagine! Running your own company at such a young age.”

Lillie almost choked. She pulled her hand away. “What?”

He looked puzzled. “Maybe I misunderstood.”

“I doubt it. Gram tends to adopt any version of reality that makes her happy, whether it bears close resemblance to the truth or not.”

Seeing him start to scowl she quickly added, “She doesn’t mean to lie. She just puts a spin on things. By the time she’s told a story over and over, I doubt she has a clue what the real truth of the matter is. Actually, I worked for a large insurance company.”

“I see.”

Sensing a possible ally in her quest to help her grandmother, Lillie glanced at the glass cabinet behind the counter where they kept the desserts. “Look, Pastor Warner, I see we have scads of cherry pie left. How would you like a big piece of that, with ice cream, on the house?”

“I’d love it.”

He smiled and Lillie’s blush deepened. No wonder the church was running out of room. The Front Porch Christian congregation had to be overflowing with eligible women now that James was its pastor. That thought made her cringe. The last thing she wanted was to give the impression she was making a play for him, too.

Considering the lousy marriage record of the last two generations of her family, she figured she was better off getting a dog or a cat. Matter of fact, if her apartment building in Chicago hadn’t had rules against pets, she’d have had a sweet little dog to keep her company long ago.

Leading the way between the tables, Lillie ducked behind the counter, washed her hands, then concentrated on dishing up the cherry pie, topping it with enough ice cream to nearly hide the crust.

“Whoa,” James said, unzipping his jacket and settling himself on a stool. “That’s plenty.” When she put the dish in front of him he asked, “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“Yes, but not to eat.” Lillie leaned a hip against the opposite side of the counter and struck a nonchalant pose. “Gram made fried pies and insisted I eat a whole one this afternoon. That is seriously heavy food. I may never be hungry again.”

James laughed. “Okay. But you look like a lady with something on your mind. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk while I eat?”

“I’ll stand, thanks. But I would like to ask you about my grandmother.”

“Sure. Just a sec.” He bowed his head and murmured a blessing on his food.

Lillie felt more ill at ease than she had since puberty. How could she have forgotten the practice of saying grace? Darla Sue always used to insist upon it at mealtime when she was little, even though Grandpa Max refused to participate. She supposed, given their strained home life, Darla Sue had considered herself lucky that Max was there at all. What a sad existence.

Looking at James, Lillie was struck by the openness of his expression, the kindness in his dark eyes as he said, “Okay. Shoot. What’s bothering you? I’ll be glad to help if I can.”

“Do you know about my grandfather?” Lillie asked.

“In what regard?” He forked a large bite of pie into his mouth and waited for her to answer.

Good. The man wasn’t the kind to carry tales. That made Lillie more inclined to confide in him. “According to Gram, Max has run off with a floozy. Is that true?”

To James’s credit he didn’t strangle. He did, however, cough into his napkin. “I wouldn’t put it quite that way. Since Miss Darla obviously told you about her problems, I won’t be breaking a confidence if I answer. Yes, he did leave. And with a woman.”

“A member of your congregation?”