Chapter One
Hope

The smell of grease and burnt French fries permeates the air around me as I reach for the plates sitting under the warmer. I double-check the ticket to make sure it's prepared correctly. This isn't the kind of restaurant that encourages special orders. The cooks don't care and aren't paid enough to lightly toast something or leave off the lettuce. We're all going through the motions to get our checks and get home to our real responsibilities.

Holding two plates and balancing a third on my arm, I make my way to the corner table to deliver dinner to a small group of college kids. I try not to let the thought that I should be one of them linger as I place their plates in front of them and ask if they need anything else. They look about my age, which makes the knife dig in a little deeper, but I take a deep breath and smile as I gather their emptied cups. Only a few more hours before my shift is over, and I can catch the bus back home.

I check my phone for the hundredth time, the stress of missing a call from Nathan wracking my brain. He is only six, and I have gone over how to call me in an emergency a million times with him, but it worries me that for him to make that call he must first walk over to the neighbors', since we no longer have phone service at our place. It was the last thing I wanted to let go, but being sick a few weeks ago put a huge dent in what money I had to pay the bills.

I return to the table with the next round of drinks and smile once again before I retreat to the front counter to fill up a few more salt and pepper shakers. It's getting late now, and I take a moment to gaze out the front door of this small café as the sun dips beyond my view and fills the sky with a beautiful portrait of pinks and purples. As darkness falls, I force myself to focus again on my job and the task at hand.

I'm still not feeling my best as I wearily wipe down the open tables in my section. I'm pretty sure I had bronchitis, but I'll never know for sure, since a trip to the ER is out of my budget and besides, I wouldn't have had anyone to leave Nathan with. I stop and focus on pulling air into my lungs, waiting for the lightheadedness to diminish so I can carry on. I'm hoping that the tips from tonight will be enough to cover the new pair of shoes I want to buy for Nathan before he starts school.

I've been saving every dollar I can to get him a few new items so he'll be like the other kids on his first day. Tonight is Saturday night, and I'm scheduled off tomorrow since Sundays are usually pretty dead. If I can get the money tonight, I'll be able to pick them up tomorrow and have them in time for Monday. The thought causes a small smile to curve my lips and I toss the rag into a bucket of water and bleach behind the counter.

The next few hours have me so busy I hardly notice we're near closing. The only signs that my shift is nearly over are the ache in the soles of my feet and the relentless tightening of my lower back. I have one table left and my last table of customers left me a tip that put me right where I needed to be for the shoes. As I wipe down a few menus, the bell on the door jingles, letting me know someone new has come in. While the other waitresses hate people who come in last minute, I need the money, so I plaster a smile across my exhausted face and look up to see who I'll be serving.

I try not to gawk as I take in the man in front of me. His suit screams wealth and professionalism, but the way the sleeves of his expensive shirt are rolled up and the tie hangs loosely from the unbuttoned collar says young and carefree. My eyes are drawn to a dark tattoo, just visible beneath one of the cuffs. I follow it around his strong forearm and feel a strange curiosity that has me wondering how far up it goes.

His other arm is completely sleeved in ink and my lips curve up at the walking contradiction in front of me. When my eyes reach his face I recognize him immediately. He's been here before, but in jeans, not work clothes. This look is a complete surprise to me. He smiles, revealing a mouth full of perfectly white teeth and a dangerously cute dimple.

His eyes are deep blue and surrounded by thick, dark lashes. A hint of five o'clock shadow covers his strong jaw and his dark hair is haphazardly styled. I can tell that he runs his fingers through it on occasion because pieces stick up here and there, but they do nothing to take away from his stunning features. I shake my head quickly to refocus and offer him a menu and a seat at the counter.

"Can I get you something to drink while you read the menu?" I ask softly as he takes the keys from his pocket and sets them on the counter so he can sit down comfortably. He drapes his suit jacket over the back of the seat.

"Just coffee, please. I don't need the menu-I just want a piece of apple pie. It's been a long day."

I giggle. If this is his weakness, I'll gladly comply. My experience with men and their vices usually involves alcohol or drugs. I've never known a piece of pie to destroy a family.

"Sure thing. Want some ice cream on it?" His eyes close and a smile spreads across his face.

"My God, woman, you've just made my night."

I laugh as I pull out a mug from under the counter and fill it with coffee. I head back to the kitchen to get the pie and tell myself to wipe the smile from my face. Men like him don't have time for girls like me. I reach into my apron pocket and pull my phone out to check again for missed calls, then shove it back in when I see the screen is clear. I make a mental note to buy more minutes for the old phone tomorrow if there's any money left over after buying the shoes.

I put the plate down in front of him and he slides it closer, picking up his fork. Sure that he is content, I turn toward the table in the corner that held my last customers. It's empty. No. Please no. I never gave them their bill, but they're gone.

They've dined and dashed, and I am now responsible for paying their tab. It's a stupid policy, but a policy I agreed to when I started working here. They must have left when I went into the kitchen for the pie. I put both palms on the dirty table and try to control my breathing. I fight the tears and swallow hard, willing myself to hold it together so I don't cry in front of the other waitress or cooks.

I jog back past the counter and yell to Tammy that I am taking my break out back.

"Your break? We're pretty much closed, honey. Go ahead, I'll close out your last customer and start cleaning up."

I'm grateful she doesn't ask questions and I rush down the hall to the heavy door that leads out to the back alley. Swinging it open, I feel the tears start to fall. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes as a sob rips from my throat. They're just college kids playing a stupid prank. They have no idea that their actions will hurt a little kid, who'll have to wear ripped shoes with broken laces to his first day of first grade.

"Damn it," I say to no one and wipe furiously at my cheeks as the tears stream down my face. I guess it's a good thing I don't wear make-up, I think, as I mop my face with the cleanest spot I can find on my apron, or I'd be even more of a mess than I am now. I close my eyes and lean back against the brick wall for a few moments, then right myself, knowing that I need to go inside and tell my boss about those asshole kids.

A noise from the end of the alley causes me to turn quickly, my heart hammering in my chest. Out of the darkness steps my beautiful customer, his suit jacket slung over his arm and his other hand in his pocket. My body flushes with embarrassment and I try to put myself back together, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. It rebels and springs free and I let it, knowing that it doesn't matter what my hair is doing. I will always look like a girl from the wrong side of the tracks when it comes to men like him.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he approaches me, and I nod my head and straighten out my apron.

"You scared me," I say with a small smile. I fidget with the ties on my apron. "How was the pie?"

His light chuckle bounces off the high walls of the alley and I feel it like a warm light inside me. It's the sound of contentment, and I hope one day I will know what that feels like.

"Shhh," he puts his finger to his lips and looks left and right. "I don't want word to get out about my indiscretions." A giggle bubbles up from my chest at the sight of this young professional acting silly just to make me laugh.

"Sorry, sir. Your secret is safe with me." I give him a wink. I can feel the wetness of my lashes from the remnants of my tears. His smile falters and he closes the distance between us.

"Are you crying? Because that would be a real shame." His voice is soft and I suck in a breath as he slowly raises a hand to wipe a tear from my cheek. I watch his forearm as his skin slides across mine and I feel heat flushing my face at his tenderness.

"I'm okay, it's just a rough night. I'm tired and I let a group of jerks get to me." In truth, it doesn't matter what they do to me. It's the thought of disappointing Nathan that kills me, but I'm not about to explain all that to this stranger.

He nods his head in understanding. "I saw that. They ran out on their bill, huh? Will you get in trouble?" His voice is empathetic and I appreciate the fact that he's not making fun or downplaying their cruel joke. I don't even realize I'm looking down at the ground until his finger lifts my chin so he can look in my eyes.

"Not trouble, no, but it'll come out of my tips for tonight." Saying it burns me all over again. He nods, and I step back to break the pull I am feeling, a strange urge to melt into him. I can't remember the last time I was touched so tenderly-his warmth and compassion must be doing a number on me.

"I've got to go. I need to close out and catch the bus. It was nice talking to you, though..."

"Caleb Stone."

"Caleb. It was nice talking to you, Caleb." I take a step toward the door.

"It was my pleasure...?"

"Hope. Hope Turner," I answer.

"Well, Hope, it was my pleasure. Can I give you a ride home?"

I won't let him do that. He seems nice, but you never know. Besides, I'm too ashamed of the small apartment I live in, and the scary, run-down neighborhood with the men selling drugs on the corner just a few feet away from the place I call home.

"No, it's okay. I still have a lot to do here. Thank you though, Caleb. I guess I'll see you around when that need for pie comes calling again." I shrug a shoulder and smile as I retreat the final step to the back entrance to the café.

"You bet." He retreats down the alleyway, and I take a moment to watch him go before turning and going back inside to settle up with the boss. I'm practicing in my head how I'm going to tell Nathan that I can't get his shoes for a few more days when I almost bump into Tammy, getting her things out of her locker.

"There you are," she says. "I cleaned up out there-you looked really tired. I know you haven't been feeling well." I smile at her, thankful for her grace.

"You're the best, Tammy," I say, grabbing my purse from my locker.

"I'm not so sure I'll keep that title tonight," she says with a mischievous grin. When she sees my questioning look she continues. "That pretty boy at the counter paid for the meal those assholes skipped out on and left you a hundred dollar tip on top of it."

She reaches into her apron and hands me the money before smiling and patting my shoulder. "Must have been some good pie," she says, winking at me. She makes her way out of the break room.

I stare down at the money and see that there is a note along with it, scrawled on a torn-off corner of placemat. Clearly some people don't know your value, sweetheart. I would pay ten times this much to never see that sadness on your face again.

I slide my finger over the masculine handwriting, feeling the warmth of his words all the way down to the deepest part of my soul.

**I'm entering Saving Hope in the 2015 Watty's! Every download, vote, comment and share counts. Please help me by voting, sharing, and commenting! Thank you!