Finding Stefanie by Susan May Warren

showed the love of Christ.
    Although sometimes, admittedly, she couldn’t rightly tell whether her smile for Gideon grew from her desire to love him to salvation or just . . . love him.
    She watched him pile dishes into the dishwashing tray, spraying them with the long hose. He’d seemed quieter this past week, more withdrawn. And harder working. Every morning, she found him waiting on the back step as she opened the restaurant; every night he left last, watching her as she got into her car to drive home.
    He looked at her now and gave her the slightest smile. “Lincoln Cash still out there?”
    She didn’t know why, but she’d noticed that every time Cash came into the diner, Gideon hid in the back room until he left. Which didn’t seem very Gideon-like at all. Unless she remembered the way Cash had raked him over the night of the fire. It had taken Libby a few days to forgive the actor for that—despite his smile, the way he complimented her service, even his gigantic tips.
    Yet with Cash’s long stretches of campouts at Lolly’s Diner—Missy had yet to change the name—Gideon couldn’t dodge the man forever.
    “He’s just finishing his pie,” she said. “I don’t know why he insists on staying until closing every night. You’d think he’d be tired of this place after eating lunch here every day. And most of the time he takes a bag dinner too. But it looks like he’s nearly done. You’re almost in the clear.” She slid her tray of dishes onto the counter next to him. “I’ll give you the high sign.”
    He held up the sprayer, as if he might actually shower her. She wrinkled her nose at him.
    “Missy, this is just about the best banana cream pie I’ve ever eaten.” The actor’s voice filtered through to the back room.
    Gideon’s smile disappeared, and he turned back to the dishes.
    Libby heard Missy’s giggle and knew that her sister, like the rest of the population of Phillips, had fallen under the charm of their local celebrity. Admittedly, he’d turned out to be the town’s benefactor as he sold the idea for a film festival to be held in this little pocket of the world. The way he painted it, movie stars and celebrities from around the globe would saturate their little town, drawn here by the charm, the authenticity, and the safety it offered. Lincoln Cash had even established business grants for anyone who wanted to open a restaurant—which made Missy ever so happy—or a hotel.
    Libby knew from the influx of breakfast and dinner customers that something akin to a barn raising was happening out at the Big K. Gideon hadn’t said much, but rumor had it that Cash had a virtual army out on the property, building a house and a theater and who knew what else.
    The entire town seemed beside themselves with excitement. After Cash assured her that he’d make sure to endorse her diner, Missy had named no less than three dishes after him—the Lincoln Burger, Eggs and Cashbrowns, and a Cashapalooza, which was just a mash of ice cream and hot fudge and caramel she’d asked him to concoct. Currently it was their number-one seller.
    Libby had to admit, as she came out of the kitchen and saw him sitting there on the stool—the night backdropping him, one hand holding the newspaper, the other lifting a coffee mug—that he had brought charm to their town. He wore a light brown denim shirt today, sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, a black Stetson, and jeans. When he smiled at her, she identified definite swooning inside.
    “Libby, great coffee tonight. I can’t believe this is decaf—delicious.” He lifted his cup, and she grabbed the pot, filling it.
    Missy looked up from where she was wiping tables. “Hey, Lib, would you mind closing up for me tonight?” She balled the rag up and tossed it into a bucket.
    Libby nodded. “Gideon’s still here too.”
    “Thanks.” She walked by Libby, taking off her apron. “See you in the morning.”
    Libby collected Cash’s plate and set it on a