His Small-Town Girl. Arlene James

      Tyler slipped around the end of the counter, quickly falling in behind his unexpected hostess, unexpected in more ways than one. Charlotte Jefford surprised him, not only with her pure, wholesome beauty and wit but with her warmth. He had not intended to spend the night in this place, but since he must he might as well enjoy himself.

      Expecting to enter a small coffee shop or café through that private door, he felt momentarily disoriented to find himself standing in what appeared to be a dining room. For one long, awkward moment, he could do nothing more than try to take in the place.

      Despite the lack of windows, the light seemed softer, warmer somehow, so that the room came across as homey and intimate if somewhat shabby. An old-fashioned maple dining set with five chairs occupied the greater portion of the room. A sixth chair stood between an overflowing bookcase and the door through which they had just entered.

      Three more doors opened off the far wall, all closed at the moment, but Tyler’s attention focused on the old man who sat at one end of the oval dining table. As he bent his head over a Bible on the flowered, quilted place mat, his thinning white hair showed a freckled scalp, leaving the impression that he had once been a redhead. He looked up when Charlotte spoke, his faded green eyes owlish beneath a thick pair of glasses, which he immediately removed.

      “This is my grandfather.”

      At the sight of Tyler, surprise flitted across the old man’s lean, craggy face, replaced at once by a welcoming smile. Rising in a slow, laborious motion, he put out his hand. Tall and lean but stooped and somewhat frail, he wore a plaid shirt beneath denim bib overalls.

      “Hap Jefford,” he said in a gravelly voice. “How d’you do.”

      Tyler leaned forward to shake hands, careful not to grip those gnarled fingers too tightly.

      “Tyler Aldrich. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Looking helplessly to Charlotte, who moved past the table toward the kitchen beyond, Tyler tamped down his unease and forced a smile. “I’m, uh, afraid I misunderstood the situation. I thought you had some sort of little restaurant back here.”

      “Goodness, no,” Hap Jefford said with mild amusement, lowering himself back down onto his seat. He waved toward the chair on his left, indicating that Tyler should also sit. “Eating places are real workhouses. Time was my Lydia thought putting in a restaurant the thing to do, back when we were young enough to hold up and it seemed our boy might join the business here.” Hap shook his head, adding, “Not to be. They’re both gone to the Lord now. Him first, God rest him.”

      Tyler hardly knew what to say to that, so he pulled out the chair and sat, nodding sagely. After a moment, he went back to the problem at hand.

      “I really don’t want to intrude. When your granddaughter said I could eat here, I naturally thought—”

      “Oh, don’t worry,” Hap interrupted. “We got plenty. She always cooks so her brothers can eat if they’re of a mind. Evenings when one or the other don’t drop by, we have to eat the leftovers for lunch the next day.”

      Tyler relaxed a bit. “Sounds as if you don’t much care for leftovers.”

      Hap grinned, displaying a finely crafted set of dentures. “Now, I never said that. Charlotte’s a right fine cook. I just don’t mind a little unexpected change from time to time.”

      Tyler laughed. “I can understand that.”

      “How ’bout yourself?” Hap asked conversationally.

      Not at all sure how to answer that, Tyler shifted uncomfortably. “Are you asking how I feel about leftovers or change?”

      “Start with the leftovers.”

      Tyler had to think about that. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually had leftovers as such.”

      Hap seemed shocked, but then he shook his head, grinning. “Where’re you from, boy?”

      “Dallas.”

      “Now, I’d have thought they had leftovers in Dallas,” Hap quipped.

      Charlotte entered just then with plates, flatware and paper napkins. Hap closed the Bible and set it aside.

      “Won’t be long now,” she announced, placing a delicate flowered plate on the flowered mat in front of Hap. She placed another in front of Tyler.

      “You really don’t have to feed me,” Tyler said uncomfortably as she set the third plate on the mat to Hap’s right.

      “Don’t be silly.” She reached across the table to deal out case knives. “It’s ready. You’re hungry. Might as well eat.”

      Tyler sensed that declining or offering to pay would insult both of the Jeffords, so he watched silently as she passed out forks and napkins, leaving a stack of the latter on the table.

      “Iced tea or water?” she asked. “Tea’s sweet, by the way.”

      “Water,” Hap answered. Glancing at Tyler, he added, “Don’t need no caffeine this time of evening.”

      “Water,” Tyler agreed, hoping it was bottled.

      “I’ll be right back.”

      “Don’t forget the ketchup,” Hap called as she hurried away.

      “As if,” came the airy reply.

      “Her grandma thought ketchup was an insult to her cooking,” Hap confided to Tyler.

      “It is when you put it on everything on your plate,” Charlotte chided gently, returning from the kitchen with glassware and a pitcher of iced water.

      “Oh, I just put it on my taters and meat loaf,” Hap said with a good-natured wink at Tyler.

      “And your eggs and your steak…” Charlotte retorted, placing the items on the table and moving away again “…red beans, fish, pork chops…” She stopped in the open doorway and turned to address Tyler. “He’ll put it on white bread and eat that if there’s nothing else on hand.”

      “That reminds me,” Hap said with a wink at Tyler. “Don’t forget the bread.”

      Charlotte gave him a speaking look and disappeared, returning moments later with a half-empty bottle of ketchup and a loaf of sliced bread in a plastic sleeve. She placed both on the table and went away without a word, but the twinkle in her eye bespoke indulgence and amusement.

      “Thank you kindly, sugar,” Hap called at her receding back. Smiling broadly, he proceeded to open the plastic and take out a slice of bread, squeeze ketchup onto the slice and fold it over before biting off half of it.

      Tyler would have winced if his attention hadn’t been snagged by something else. The bread wrapper bore the Rich Foods label, the private label of the Aldrich Grocery chain. Aldrich & Associates Grocery had several stores in Oklahoma, of course, and distributed some foodstuffs to independents, but seeing that label there distressed him. It took only a moment to realize why.

      He didn’t want the Jeffords to connect him with the Aldrich family who owned the grocery chain. He didn’t see why they should, really. They might not even know that the Rich Foods brand belonged to the Aldrich Grocery chain, but it seemed very important suddenly that they not make the connection.

      All his life, he’d had to worry whether he was liked for himself or his family position. Just once he wanted to know that someone could be nice to him without first calculating what it might be worth. He couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had invited him, on the spur of the moment, to share a simple meal for which he was not even expected to pay.

      Stunned by the abrupt longing, Tyler spread his hands on his thighs and smiled with false serenity as Hap licked ketchup off his fingers, his expression one of sublime enjoyment. When was the last time, Tyler wondered, that he had enjoyed something that much, especially something so basic?

      Charlotte came in again, wearing heavy mitts