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their plates were clean, Maggie took a piece of her plain toast, opened a jar of preserves—the same type of preserves, Hale noticed, that were sitting on his own table—and spread a generous amount on the crisp surface. She placed it on the edge of Al’s plate and he reached out, picked it up, and took a slow bite. Even though he didn’t make a sound, Hale could have sworn the man sighed in delight.
    A few minutes later, Maggie stood, placed a kiss on the old man’s cheek, and went to pay her bill. Gina waved her away with a good natured smile, refusing her money, and Maggie, plainly used to the byplay, pressed a tip into Gina’s hand.
    “See you again next week,” the waitress called out.
    “Call if you run out of the pickles before I get back,” Maggie replied with a wave.
    She breezed out of Wilson’s just as she’d breezed in, a package lighter and a stomach fuller. A moment later Al Mackey left, as well, with a small wave in the general direction of the kitchen. Hale fought back his curiosity, determined not to be sucked into the odd scene he’d just witnessed. But when Gina came back around to refill his cup he found he didn’t have to say a word.
    “That’s probably the sweetest thing I see all week,” the brunette said before she sighed. “Poor Mr. Mackey, losing his family like that; no wonder he started drinking. Poor thing, wondering around town, trying to make do, sleeping in that little shack he calls a home. Wouldn’t anybody give him a decent job, but Maggie made sure she found plenty of things for him to do. Then her friend, Jolene, said she needed a handyman, then Mr. Adkins decided he needed some help at home, too….” She gave an eloquent shrug and shook her head. “Still won’t eat sometimes, but Maggie makes sure he has a decent breakfast every week; even takes out some of her canned food for him. Mr. Adkins gives him some, too, says it’s about to go out of date. Between you and me and the walls, it isn’t any such thing. Lynn and Sharon told us not to charge him when he comes in. Just keep his coffee cup full, and offer him a sandwich. But he’ll only eat a good meal with Maggie.”
    He knew he only had to ask to get a reason. He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t want to know. “Why is that?”
    Gina grinned as if she’d just been waiting for an opening. “Some say she’s the same age his daughter would be. Others say it’s because he was so nice to her back when…well, when things were tough for her. Even wrote her a recommendation for college. That was before the accident, of course. Personally, I think it’s both. If anybody in this town knows what it’s like to be gossiped over and have nothing left, it’s Maggie. Speaking of which, you should try her preserves. Folks around here swear by them.”
    The bell over the door rang and Gina was off again, greeting a new customer. Hale sat, no longer brooding about the incident in the woods, but the scene he’d just witnessed and what he’d just been told. Trent’s warning played over again in his head. No, the town hadn’t stood still. No, Maggie wasn’t the same girl she had been. Or maybe she was, but with more steel in her backbone. The idea of her was suddenly not only stirring his libido, but his thoughts as well. And just what the hell was he supposed to do about that?
    Without any real thought, he plucked up one of Maggie’s jars and twisted the top off. Disgruntled, he dipped a spoon inside, pulling out a heaping sample of the golden apple jelly. There was a split second of hesitation before he finally slipped the spoon between his lips. His mouth exploded with crisp, clean, gentle sweetness. He hadn’t ever tasted anything so…honest, he decided. Honest, and real, and wholesome. He could easily see how Lynn’s gravy paled in comparison. He eyed the blackberry preserves and his mouth began to salivate. He had the eerie feeling he was swimming in deep, unfathomable waters he’d never be able to