“I’m Kelly.” Her smile spread even wider, and then she was off to fetch me my coffee. I stayed there all morning. It was an hour later that she asked me what I was working on. I told her in detail about my writing. It was two hours later that I learned about her life, her upbringing, her hopes, her dreams. It was three hours later that she took her break. She sat with me and chatted, and it was then that she told me about him, Scott, her husband.

Her description of him was laced with dark undertones. I mean she was sitting there with another man—me—opening up. Clearly, something wasn’t right. But she spoke and spoke about how they had met. She nearly described it as a fairy tale. Girl meets boy. Boy and girl fall in love. Boy and girl marry young. Boy and girl live happily ever after… but then girl opens up to a mysterious man in a café. Something wasn’t adding up. It was the cracks in her voice that gave it away. Scott had hurt her. She didn’t need to tell me that for me to know.

Four hours later, I was packing up my laptop. I had drunk several cups of coffee and eaten a light lunch. Kelly had returned to my table to chat several other times. Our conversations had turned from our personal lives to the small town, the weather, the work I was doing on the lake house. The connection between us that felt strong that morning, had weakened by afternoon. Kelly seemed to have put her guard up, and I was ready to walk away. It was silly of me to get wrapped up in this idea of Kelly and me saving each other. Saving me from a dull marriage and an inattentive wife, and me saving her from Scott, a man who had hurt in her some way.

I started walking out of the café, and she stopped me by calling my name. I turned around. There she stood untying her apron, folding it up, and putting it in her purse. She slid on a pair of sunglasses, threw her bag on her shoulder, and took a few steps toward me. “I think I have to come see this house you’ve been talking my ear off about.” Her voice was low. The patio had cleared out and was now empty.

“I think you do too,” I said with a smile.