“I see you’ve already visited The Perfect Blend. My next stop. Zach whips up the best Mexican coffee this side of the border.” He inspected her tray, lips curving up as amusement glinted in his irises. “Are you double-dipping this morning?”

“No.” She shot a quick peek at the young woman. “I, uh, bought a drink for someone else.”

Charley glanced toward the bench. “That was thoughtful of you. The world could use more random acts of kindness. And one simple, caring gesture can make all the difference to someone who’s hit a hard stretch.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Count on it.” Charley shifted his attention back to her. “I saw your help-wanted sign in the window yesterday. I wonder if that young woman is waiting to apply?”

No, she wasn’t. Beth was certain of that.

The sign did give her a legitimate excuse for initiating a conversation, however—and it should mitigate any concerns the woman might have about being approached by a stranger.

“I don’t know. I’ll ask before I go in.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Charley examined the sky as a drop of rain left a dark splotch on her cardboard carrier. “And none too soon. I believe we’re about to get a shower. Have a wonderful day, Beth.”

“Thanks. You too.”

He touched the brim of his Ducks cap and ambled across the street as if the intensifying rain was of no consequence.

She, on the other hand, picked up her pace. Maybe Charley didn’t mind getting wet, but the thought of spending the next hour or two waiting for her damp clothes to dry while she tended the shop was not appealing.

The bench-sitter didn’t stir as Beth approached. Didn’t she realize it was beginning to rain? That the skies could open any minute? That she should seek shelter?

Or perhaps she didn’t care enough about herself to worry that getting wet and chilled could lead to a bad cold—or worse.

A pang of compassion echoed in Beth’s heart, stirring up the embers of long-dormant emotions, and she halted.

Softer emotions were dangerous—and best left undisturbed. They opened you to hurt and loss and mind-numbing, debilitating grief.

Harder emotions, like anger, were much safer. They insulated. Fueled. Helped you cope. It was best to cling to them.

She eyed the door to the shop. It wasn’t too late to change her mind, go inside instead of detouring to the bench.

But walking away from those in need was wrong—and this woman was emitting strong distress signals, even if no one else was picking them up.

Beth gripped the tray tighter. She could do this. It wasn’t as if she had to enmesh herself in the woman’s life, after all. As Charley had said, sometimes a small act of kindness was all it took to lift someone’s spirits.