not to mention the stained apron in which she’d greeted him, but that should not matter. Neither should what this smoothly handsome, well-dressed man would think about the simple apartment behind the unmarked door. The Bible taught that no difference should be made between the wealthy and the poor.
Putting on her smile, Charlotte mentally squared her shoulders and said, “You can eat here. It’s just meat loaf tonight, with grilled potatoes, broccoli and greens, but at least none of it’s fried.”
His relief palpable, he chuckled and spread his arms. “Lead me to it. I’m starving.”
Thankful that her brothers hadn’t shown up for the evening meal as they did several times a week, she waved him around the end of the counter and indicated the door through which she’d entered. The unexpected company would surprise her grandfather, but she knew that he would be nothing less than gracious. They’d shared their table with hotel guests before, after all, and no doubt would do so again, though they really didn’t get all that many strangers stopping in.
They had only twelve rooms, and most of their guests were locals who rented by the month or employees of one of the oil firms that paid handsomely to have rooms constantly available. Several of the truckers who routinely drove along this route stopped in on a weekly basis, usually on Tuesdays or Thursdays, but they didn’t get many travelers in this area who weren’t there to visit family. Strangers simply had no reason to come, which made her wonder again how Tyler Aldrich happened to be there.
Perhaps he was headed to Duncan and simply hadn’t realized how far it could be between gas stations, particularly at night. If Oklahoma City were his destination, surely he’d have used the interstate to the east, while a direct trip to Lawton would have taken him through Wichita Falls. All four cities, she knew for a fact, had Aldrich Grocery stores.
Or maybe he wasn’t connected to Aldrich Grocery at all.
What mattered was that he needed a little hospitality, and hospitality, as Granddad would say, was the Jefford family business. More than that, the Lord commanded it in one of Charlotte’s favorite passages from the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew.
Feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty and inviting in the stranger were tenets upon which her grandparents had built their lives as well as their business. She sincerely tried to follow the example set by those two godly people. She’d just never dreamed that would mean inviting a rich man to her humble table.
Chapter Two
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
