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Mataeo's first love was cooking, and he became an accomplished chef. He loved cooking for family and friends, like his mother before him, taking pains to learn and serve her recipes.

He had bought the dilapidated old diner in Lewisburg, several months after his divorce was final. He'd wanted to restore it to its former glory, though it would require a lot of work. He'd always dreamed of owning a diner where he could show off his mother's recipes with his own flair.

Gizelle arrived for an interview with no work history that she would reveal. She had cleaned up and made every effort to make a good impression, charming him, and offering to help him close up for free, but stopping just short of trying too hard. He watched her approach the exit, stopping to check every direction, as though she were stepping into a minefield, and he wondered about it.

Gizelle had promised to show up early and stay late, and she had exceeded his expectations. He'd wanted to hire a young man, as there was a lot of manual labor needed, but something in her eyes had reached out and grabbed him by the lapels. He'd recognized a kindred soul and he took a chance.

Behind the smile, the flash of straight white teeth, and an understated beauty, there was desperation in her eyes. He had the feeling she was running scared and filled with fear. Her terror was palpable.

He had no idea what kind of demon was chasing her, but she'd shown up and worked, dawn to dusk, regardless. She had never made him regret hiring her.

Mataeo was a kind man, plain of face, nothing special to look at, and he worked hard to rebuild himself and his assets, following a protracted court battle. He'd needed to make a fresh start. Several years out of a hellish divorce, he had managed to make some investments which had sustained him, at first, and then grown exponentially.

He had watched Gizelle all these weeks, perplexed. She knew how to charm customers, exchanging pleasantries, cooking up a storm, and bending over backwards to accommodate. He didn't care what demon was hot on her heels, she was solid gold to him.

Still, he had studied her, fascinated. She had turned down movies and clubbing with the women she was friendly with, and shot down every young man who had asked her out, yet she had put away her mop and broom after closing, and stayed late to talk to him.

She had wanted to know every detail about him, slowly drawing him out, asking relatively few questions, but her countenance was warm and welcoming, and it had been easy to divulge personal information.

Evasiveness seemed out of character for the young lady, who had always looked him in the eye when speaking. He surmised that it was a learned skill, born of necessity. Gizelle seemed guarded and skittish, which didn't fit with the woman he'd gradually come to know. He wondered exactly what ugliness had befallen her.

She was a delightful conversationalist, as long as he didn't ask terribly personal questions. As soon as he'd asked about her background, the walls went up, and she ducked inside herself, finding infinite busy work to hide behind, to avoid answering. Mataeo wondered, is she avoiding answering me or avoiding a memory?

He'd worked for a week, offering hot cocoa with marshmallow fluff topping, and a weekend off with pay, to lure her back to the table. Finally, she'd accepted the cocoa and declined the weekend off.

Loathe as he was to admit it, he'd become terribly attracted to her. He'd surveyed her while she worked, thinking If I make a move, she's going to bolt. He wished he knew how to bridge the gap.

Mataeo wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but she had unwittingly carved out a soft spot in his heart. He'd learned of her fondness for hot cocoa, and had stocked two shelves with it.

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