Charlie bent down and picked up the box from the floor. He gave it a little shake. “I don’t think anything’s broken.”

“I hope not.” Lane took it from him. “My sister would kill me if something happened to the art pieces.”

“Art?” Charlie quirked an eyebrow.

“I’ll go get started on icing those rolls.” Ms. Byrdie gave a less-than-subtle wink in Lane’s direction before ducking into the kitchen.

“Coffee. You need coffee with those cinnamon rolls.” Lane moved toward the counter, taking extra care to watch her footing. Really—what was wrong with her lately? It was like some cliché Hallmark movie scene where the lovestruck girl falls into the arms of the handsome boy. Sheesh. Charlie was definitely handsome, but she wasn’t lovestruck—was she?

When she was safely behind the counter, Lane began filling a travel coffee urn. “I’m a little low on decaf, but if you have time I can brew another pot.”

“I bring decaf back and it’s likely I’ll never have a weekend off.” Charlie was still next to the boxes. He lifted one and read the mailing label. “You collect art?”

“No.” Lane withdrew a bag and began filling it with creamers and packets of sugar. “Those are donations for an upcoming fund-raiser.”

“Any of it local?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. You like art?”

Charlie returned to the counter and shrugged. “Just curious, I guess.”

Lane needed to check on the cinnamon rolls, but Ms. Byrdie was already stepping out of the kitchen with two boxes in her hands.

“These should bring some joy to the station.”

“I know my morning’s already better.” Charlie passed a quick glance in Lane’s direction. “But I better get these back there before any riots break out.”

“Have a good day, honey.” Ms. Byrdie nodded. “Tell Huggy he’s not allowed to eat any of those.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lane busied herself with a towel, but from the corner of her eye she watched Charlie get into his truck and drive away.

Ms. Byrdie’s violet eyes sparkled. “Seems you two keep bumping into each other—literally.”

Lane groaned. “He told you about the drinks?”

“He might’ve mentioned that little incident.” Ms. Byrdie’s gentle laughter filled the space between them. “You’ve made quite an impression on him.”

“I can only imagine the impression I’ve left on him.” Her thoughts went back to those seconds on the bridge. “He hasn’t exactly caught me at my best.”

“Honey, we can only be who God created us to be. Mess and all.”

If anyone else brought up God, Lane dismissed them, but Ms. Byrdie never pushed the subject. Her faith came out in gentle displays of kindness and love. She had taken care of Lane and all the other kids at school who needed a loving mentor. How many kids had she saved?