As Faith added cookies and muffins to the display case, brought out fresh bags of coffee and refilled the napkin holders, the breakfast crowd dwindled. All except for Ann, who continued to read.
All morning long, every time the door opened, Faith jumped to attention, wondering if it might be Gabe, bringing Chelsea.
At around eleven, they finally walked in. To Faith’s dismay, at the sight of Gabe her heart raced and her face burned, scalding her from the inside out. She turned her back to try to gather her wits as she called out, “Welcome. You want your regular, Chief Reynolds?”
“Sure. And a hot chocolate for Chelsea, please.” His deep, resonant voice filled the café and seemed to close the distance between them.
“Whipped cream, Chelsea?”
“Yes, please. Oh, hi, Miss Ann!” Chelsea dashed across the dining room and joined Ann at her table.
“Mornin’, Miss Ann,” Gabe called. He walked toward Faith. As she poured him a cup of coffee and added one packet of sugar, he leaned his thick muscular forearms on the counter and watched her, his intense coffee-colored eyes following her every move.
Why did he always do that? And why did it seem to matter to her more today than it had before?
Another blush wormed its way along her neck and up to her cheeks. Steaming hot coffee didn’t help matters any. “Here you go.” Once she handed over the cup, she reached under the glass cake stand with a pair of tongs and grabbed several doughnut holes.
He always accepted a bag full even though he complained it would ruin his appetite.
He pulled out his wallet.
“You are not going to pay me. Don’t try again.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. You mowed my grass last week before I could get to it. This is the least I can do.”
“Just being neighborly. And I still say you’re trying to get me addicted to your homemade doughnuts so my car out front will be like an endorsement.”
She bit back a smile. “Guilty.”
His laugh rang out across the café. “Gotta run. I’ll be back for Chelsea in a couple of hours, if that’ll work.”
“Let her stay as long as she likes. If her friends show up this afternoon she’ll want to hang out. We’ll either call you when she’s ready to go, or I’ll run her home.”
“Thanks, Faith.” He told his daughter and Miss Ann goodbye, then saluted Faith with the bag of doughnut holes as he left.
Once her heart rate returned to normal and her cheeks quit flaming, she carried Chelsea’s hot chocolate over and joined Chelsea and Ann.
Ann had closed her Bible and was listening intently.
The girl jumped up and down in her seat when she saw Faith. “Oh, I’ve been dying to ask. Did you talk to Dad last night?”
“Yes. And I’m afraid he’s not going to let you go to the party.”
Chelsea sank back in her chair, her face forlorn. “Oh, man. If you can’t talk him into it, I know I can’t. He’s so stubborn. And miserable. I just wish he had something to do besides worry about me.”
Ann flipped her notebook open. “I’ll add your dad to my prayer list, too.”
“Thanks. Pray that he’ll finally be happy. It’s hard to see him when he gets down, especially at home.”
The three of them sat at the table digesting her statement. Faith found herself praying for happiness for Gabe and his daughter. For healing from the grief of loss of such a wonderful wife and mother.
Chelsea sucked in a breath. “You know, I have something else for you to pray about.” She had a little gleam in her eye. “Ever since Sunday night, I’ve been thinking Dad needs something to occupy his time. So—” she signaled for the two of them to lean in closer “—I want y’all to find a bunch of people to be praying for him…to find a girlfriend.”
Gabe would be mortified. “Not on the church-wide prayer chain, Chelsea,” Faith said.
Ann chuckled. “You sure are a sneaky one, child.”
“His whole life is this town and me—specifically keeping me his overly safe little girl. I want him to have some fun.”
Faith wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Surely it was a good plan. He did need some outside interests. But a girlfriend? On the prayer chain?
She should be all for this. So why did the idea grate against her nerves?
“What do you think, Faith?” Chelsea asked.
“You know your dad won’t go along with this. When would he have time to go out?”
“That’s the point. He needs to make time. To be forced to make time.” She grinned at the perfection of her plan.
“How about I add it to my personal prayer list and ask a couple of friends to join in praying?” Ann said as she picked up her cane and slowly got up. “This’ll be fun.”
Faith wasn’t so enthused. All she could think about as she waved goodbye to Ann was that Gabe would be angry. And she would be miserable.
But why would watching Gabe go out and have fun make her miserable? Did she feel more than a neighborly connection? More than friendship?
No. That was impossible.
“I need your help,” Chelsea said, drawing her away from her thoughts.
Faith frowned. “What?”
“We’re going to find him a nice woman. Fix him up.”
“We are?”
“Yep. And I have an idea for the first one. You!”
“Me?” she asked, entirely too loudly.
“You two have a lot in common—your yards…coffee…church.”
“But he doesn’t even go to church.” Okay, so that was a low blow. The poor man found it difficult to attend without the love of his life. “Besides, we’re just friends.”
Chelsea shrugged. “Oh. Okay. Well, what about Hannah, from church? We just need to figure out how to get her to ask him out.”
Faith’s head nearly spun. She hadn’t thought of Hannah. But she was perfect for Gabe—and perfect for Chelsea. Hannah was a widowed single mom, a really good mom, always active in her children’s lives. A model Christian woman. Gorgeous. “She would be a good choice.”
“You know her, don’t you?”
“She works at the bank, and I’ve catered some events for them.”
“Perfect! Call her. Tell her to ask Dad out.” Chelsea’s grin nearly lit the room.
Surely Gabe was going to kill her for this. Then again, he might end up blissfully in love and would thank her. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Oh, thank you, Faith! Dad will be so much happier. And I’ll be able to live my own life without him worrying about every breath I take.”
Faith’s stomach seized into a knot. And she could now worry over why she was so resistant to playing matchmaker for her neighbor.
That evening as Gabe took a stroll down Main Street, checking to make sure business owners had closed up tight, he passed two ladies he knew from church walking down the street toward the high school—probably headed for the walking track.
“Evenin’, ladies.”
“Evenin’,