tray of dirty dishes. “Mr. Cash, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
He put down his paper and looked at her. “Go for it.”
“Do you go to church?”
He seemed to ponder that. “I used to, once upon a time. Maybe it’s time to go, huh?”
Libby tore off his check, putting it facedown in front of him. “Do you consider yourself a good man?”
Cash frowned at her. “I guess I do.”
“You seem like one, with all the stuff you’re doing around town. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t wasted.”
He picked up the check, stared at it for a minute. “I don’t understand.”
“Coffee and pie—”
“No, I mean, what do you mean, wasted? Isn’t doing good a good thing?” He pulled out a ten and pushed it toward her. “Keep the change.”
Libby smiled. “Thanks.” Another 60 percent tip. “The thing is, being good is fine, but all that goodness isn’t going to get you anywhere but farther from God. See, we can do all the good we want, but if we’re not saved, it just masks our need for a Savior. Good isn’t going to get anyone to heaven. Only realizing we need Jesus, and being forgiven, is going to matter.”
“Are you saying that anything good I do without God isn’t really good at all?”
“Not in God’s economy. The only good we do that counts with God is the good we do in faith, in cooperation with Him.”
He got up. “I’d like to think I’m cooperating with God.”
Libby opened the cash register, deposited the cash, drew out the change, and slipped it into her pocket. “I’m sure you do. So maybe going to church might help you figure out what that means.”
Cash touched his hat, giving her a wink. “Then I’ll see you there.” The door jangled as he exited.
She smiled. That was easy. Maybe she did have a knack, just like her mama had said. Ever since she was young, she’d been inviting friends, neighbors, even strangers, to church. Janie Pike had called her the “littlest missionary.” How she ached to have her mother’s prophecies come true.
“Is he gone?” Gideon stuck his head out of the kitchen. She noticed his apron was wet down the front.
She giggled. “Yeah, big bad Cash has left for the night.”
Gideon came out, wiping his hands on a towel. “He’s got it in for me; I know it. That’s why he’s here every night. He thinks I’m going to do something bad—maybe steal money from the till or set the diner on fire.”
Libby took Cash’s coffee cup and put it in with the dirty dishes. “I doubt that. He’s just hungry.”
“Every night? During closing time?”
“Wait, is that him, sitting outside the door with a six-shooter?” She cupped her hands above her eyes as if peering outside. “No, he’s looking in here with binoculars. Duck!”
“Stop.” Gideon didn’t look amused. “He doesn’t like me.”
“You got off on the wrong foot with him is all.”
He gave an incredulous huff. “I burned his house down, Lib.” He looked so wretched when he said it, his hair over his eyes, leaning against the doorframe.
Libby turned her tone soft. “Everyone knows it was an accident, Gideon. Really.”
He shrugged, then brushed past her to pick up the last tray of dishes. She stepped back to let him pass but reached out to touch his arm to stop him. He jumped as if she’d shocked him.
“You know, you don’t have to live as if the world hates you. You have a fresh start here in Phillips.”
An expression so raw came over his face, everything inside her stilled. Then he shook his head. “There are no fresh starts for me. Just . . . moving on.”
“So, you move on.”
He gave her the smallest smile. “Right. Moving on into the kitchen now.” He winked, and although the man voted one of America’s sexiest men had just done that without causing the slightest reaction from her, this from Gideon had her body suddenly alive, every nerve tingling. She swallowed as he disappeared into the kitchen.
She should lock up and go home.
Taking
He put down his paper and looked at her. “Go for it.”
“Do you go to church?”
He seemed to ponder that. “I used to, once upon a time. Maybe it’s time to go, huh?”
Libby tore off his check, putting it facedown in front of him. “Do you consider yourself a good man?”
Cash frowned at her. “I guess I do.”
“You seem like one, with all the stuff you’re doing around town. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t wasted.”
He picked up the check, stared at it for a minute. “I don’t understand.”
“Coffee and pie—”
“No, I mean, what do you mean, wasted? Isn’t doing good a good thing?” He pulled out a ten and pushed it toward her. “Keep the change.”
Libby smiled. “Thanks.” Another 60 percent tip. “The thing is, being good is fine, but all that goodness isn’t going to get you anywhere but farther from God. See, we can do all the good we want, but if we’re not saved, it just masks our need for a Savior. Good isn’t going to get anyone to heaven. Only realizing we need Jesus, and being forgiven, is going to matter.”
“Are you saying that anything good I do without God isn’t really good at all?”
“Not in God’s economy. The only good we do that counts with God is the good we do in faith, in cooperation with Him.”
He got up. “I’d like to think I’m cooperating with God.”
Libby opened the cash register, deposited the cash, drew out the change, and slipped it into her pocket. “I’m sure you do. So maybe going to church might help you figure out what that means.”
Cash touched his hat, giving her a wink. “Then I’ll see you there.” The door jangled as he exited.
She smiled. That was easy. Maybe she did have a knack, just like her mama had said. Ever since she was young, she’d been inviting friends, neighbors, even strangers, to church. Janie Pike had called her the “littlest missionary.” How she ached to have her mother’s prophecies come true.
“Is he gone?” Gideon stuck his head out of the kitchen. She noticed his apron was wet down the front.
She giggled. “Yeah, big bad Cash has left for the night.”
Gideon came out, wiping his hands on a towel. “He’s got it in for me; I know it. That’s why he’s here every night. He thinks I’m going to do something bad—maybe steal money from the till or set the diner on fire.”
Libby took Cash’s coffee cup and put it in with the dirty dishes. “I doubt that. He’s just hungry.”
“Every night? During closing time?”
“Wait, is that him, sitting outside the door with a six-shooter?” She cupped her hands above her eyes as if peering outside. “No, he’s looking in here with binoculars. Duck!”
“Stop.” Gideon didn’t look amused. “He doesn’t like me.”
“You got off on the wrong foot with him is all.”
He gave an incredulous huff. “I burned his house down, Lib.” He looked so wretched when he said it, his hair over his eyes, leaning against the doorframe.
Libby turned her tone soft. “Everyone knows it was an accident, Gideon. Really.”
He shrugged, then brushed past her to pick up the last tray of dishes. She stepped back to let him pass but reached out to touch his arm to stop him. He jumped as if she’d shocked him.
“You know, you don’t have to live as if the world hates you. You have a fresh start here in Phillips.”
An expression so raw came over his face, everything inside her stilled. Then he shook his head. “There are no fresh starts for me. Just . . . moving on.”
“So, you move on.”
He gave her the smallest smile. “Right. Moving on into the kitchen now.” He winked, and although the man voted one of America’s sexiest men had just done that without causing the slightest reaction from her, this from Gideon had her body suddenly alive, every nerve tingling. She swallowed as he disappeared into the kitchen.
She should lock up and go home.
Taking
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