“Hello, sir,” Alex said, reaching out a hand for Mr. Krakowski to shake. “I’m Alex.”

“Malachi Krakowski,” Mr. K replied. “Welcome to my restaurant.”

I smiled lamely as Mr. K looked Alex over. Usually, he would have seated me at a table by the window by now, especially on a Sunday morning when they were busy.

“Is Mrs. K cooking today?” I asked just to break the silence.

“No, no,” Mr. K said, finally turning to look at me again. “She’s got the girls in there today, trying to teach them. I think it’s a lost cause.”

I laughed like I was supposed to and put my arm through his, leading him to the table I wanted to sit at. “Will this work for us?”

“Well, sure,” he said, giving my hand a little squeeze. “Enjoy.”

As soon as he’d walked away and we’d sat down, Alex started to snicker.

“He loves you,” he said, unwrapping his napkin from his silverware and placing it on his lap.

“How could you tell?” I asked drily. I took my coat off and hung it on the back of my chair. “Sorry about that. I’ve never brought a guy in here before.”

“I’m your first?” he asked, grinning.

I just rolled my eyes. “Mr. K and his wife have always been friends of my family. They kind of took my parents under their wing when they got here from New York and didn’t know anyone.”

“That’s cool. Like surrogate grandparents.”

“Sort of. I think they understood how isolating moving to a new place could be. They emigrated from Poland in the forties.” I smiled as our waitress, one of Mr. K’s actual granddaughters, poured us both some coffee. As soon as she moved away, I continued. “I lost touch with them when I moved, but as soon as I got back here, I stopped in. They pretty much treated me like they’d just seen me the week before.”

“They must have missed you.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I missed them, too.” I’d missed Mr. and Mrs. K so much that I’d come into the restaurant within the first week of being back in Missouri. I was ashamed that I’d never tried to keep in contact with them when I’d moved to New York, but dealing with the loss of my parents had taken precedence over everything, even the old couple I thought of as family.

“Do you come here a lot?” he asked as he grabbed a menu.

“At least once a week,” I confessed, grinning sheepishly. “I don’t always eat, though. Sometimes I just stop for coffee on my way home from work.”