“No. They’re old friends.” He set the bag on the table. “Here’s the order you placed for Beth.”

Steve frowned. Cold tacos wouldn’t be very appetizing. Charley was supposed to wait until she got here to make them. “Would they stay warmer in the—”

Beth’s car turned the corner.

Huh.

How could the taco chef have predicted her arrival with such precision?

“My timing was perfect.” The man watched Beth’s car roll down Dockside Drive. “I ran into her this week at The Perfect Blend, and she mentioned she was meeting you here today at twelve fifteen. I’ve never known her to be anything but punctual.”

Question answered.

Steve rose. “I’ll walk her to the table.”

“Very considerate.” Charley claimed a seat on the bench. “I’ll keep Noah company while you’re gone, since there’s no one in line for my fine fare at the moment.”

Steve jogged toward his wife, arriving at the car as she eased her left leg out. “Sergeant Adams, state police. May I help you, ma’am?”

Her smile was genuine, not forced like it had been during their last meeting at the wharf. “This gives new meaning to the term curb service.”

“We aim to please.”

She passed him her crutches. “If you could hold these for me, that would help—and I’d appreciate it if you could carry this too.” She picked up a bag from the seat beside her and handed it to him.

“I’ll be happy to.”

He waited while she stood, closed the door, and walked beside her as they traversed the path to the park.

“Sorry to slow you down.” She sent him an apologetic glance.

“I can adjust my pace to yours. No worries.” He met her gaze, willing her to recognize the deeper significance of his response—that it was a reinforcement of his promise Thursday night to let her set the pace for their reconciliation . . . and his vow to be patient, however long it took.

The faint flush on her cheeks said his message had been received.

As they entered the tiny park, Charley rose from his seat beside Noah. “I’ll leave you three to enjoy your lunch. Keep up the good work, Noah.”

“I’ll try. The class is awesome. The teacher says I have a lot of potential.”

“I’d have to agree—on many fronts.” Charley encompassed all of them in his response, lifted a hand in farewell, and wandered back toward the stand.

“Hello, Noah.” Beth stopped beside the table. “May I sit by you again?”

“Sure.” He moved his bottle of water aside but didn’t scoot to the far end of the bench as he had last week. “Is your knee getting better?”