While they debated back and forth, Samson happened to catch sight of the small Hispanic woman who had to be Cassie’s mother as she peeked around the corner of the kitchen area. Delicia Villalobos was a shadow of the woman he remembered. Behind her frown was a trace of fear as she listened but stayed out of sight. What had it been like for her in the years after her arrest for embezzlement of the Volunteer Fire Department funds? From talking to his dad, he had an idea of what it had been like in prison, but his dad had been married to a supportive woman. Mrs. Villalobos’s sentence had ended after the prescribed time, but then she’d had to deal with Mr. Villalobos. Samson didn’t like seeing a woman cowering in fear just at listening to a man rant.
Jorge finally stomped toward the door, grumbling to himself. Cassie followed in his wake and stayed at the window, as if making sure he didn’t change his mind and try to sneak back into the kitchen. The conversation continued all around him, but Samson kept his eyes on her as she stood watching. Her shoulders were a little slumped, and she shook her head as Jorge yelled at someone out in the parking lot.
She looked back to their table and mouthed sorry to him with a smile before going out the side door. Samson noticed Hank was watching as well. She disappeared from view down the sidewalk, her cardigan wrapped around her front as she walked against the blustery wind. Hank nudged him as he made to get up and shook his head.
“It’s okay. Her uncle just showed up to give him a ride.”
He wanted to know what her father had said about Bill. That was obviously who she’d been speaking about with him before he’d thrown his tantrum. Samson wondered if he didn’t have a touch of dementia, judging by his behavior. The fact that he’d needed a ride to and from the coffee shop was an indicator of other issues.
With one ear trained to the conversation going on around him, he watched the door and frowned when she returned with someone in tow.
Craning her head, Grandma Kate said, “Well, I wonder what’s going on that has the menfolk so distracted.” Evidently he wasn’t the only one watching the side door as Cassie tugged it open against the wind.
A man in faded and worn clothing followed behind her. She spoke discreetly to him for a moment and then gestured down the hall to the public restrooms. He nodded and seemed to almost want to bow to her, drab knit hat in his hands, before going down the hallway.
She disappeared into the kitchen and came back shortly with a plate containing a sandwich made with thick, freshly baked bread, cut into triangles. The plate was piled with potato chips and two slices of dill pickle on the side. She set the plate and a large Styrofoam cup on a table near the hallway just as the man, who appeared to be homeless, returned from the restroom with a clean face and hands and hair combed.
A blush filled her cheeks as she glanced over and found several of them were watching her and then spoke kindly to the man, who nodded several times and smiled at her before taking a huge bite of the sandwich. She patted his shoulder and then returned to their table.
In a quiet tone, Hank said, “Thank you, Cassie. I stopped to talk to him earlier this morning when I saw him by the bank.”
“He told me he’s a veteran, Hank.”
“I know.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
Hank shook his head. “I’d like to help him find a workable situation here and get him off the streets, and I’ve put out the word but haven’t heard anything yet.”
“He seems in his right mind,” Grandma Kate said. “Maybe he’s on his way to family in these parts?”
Cassie shook her head. “I asked him if there was anyone I could call for him, at least to let them know he was okay, and he told me no. He’s all by himself. That’s awful with the holidays coming up.”
Hank nodded. “I hate to see anyone on the street when there are jobs going unfilled in this town. I plan to keep checking into it.”
“Cassie,” one of the waitresses said softly after glancing apologetically at him and the rest of the group.
Cassie turned to her employee, and young woman whispered to her in Spanish and pointed to the kitchen. Samson caught only part of the soft exchange, that someone was feeling unwell, and noticed the way Cassie paled and then checked her watch as the young woman returned to the kitchen. Several people walked in the front door, and she waved to them with a smile.
“What’s wrong?”
“Mama isn’t feeling well. I’d better go see what’s wrong,” she said before apologizing to the group and hurrying to the kitchen.
“Her mother isn’t feeling well?” Grandma Kate said as she got up from her chair. “I’m a nurse. Maybe I can help.” Without another word, she trotted off after Cassie.