"Omigod, I had no idea. That's so sweet. That's so sad. The poor guy is over there wishing he had a cup of coffee, and I thought he was one of those pervert stalkers. He should just call over here. Or he could wave, and I'd bring him a cup."

"Really? He'd love that. He's such a nice guy, but he's always worried about imposing."

Jet leaned on the counter and did a little finger wave at Larry Burlew. Even from this distance I could see Burlew's cheeks flush red.

I brought the coffee across the street and gave it to Larry Burlew.

"I've got it all set," I told him. "All you have to do is wave at Jet, and she'll bring you a cup of coffee. Then you'll have a chance to talk to her."

"I can't talk to her! What would I say? She's so pretty, and I'm so…" Burlew looked down at himself. He didn't have words.

"You're a nice-looking guy" I told him. "Okay, maybe the chicken guts are a turnoff, but you can fix that by changing your butcher apron before she gets here. And try not to stare at her so much. Only stare when you want a cup of coffee. Staring sometimes can be misconstrued as, um, rude."

Burlew was bobbing his head up and down. "I'll remember all that. Wave for coffee. Don't stare so much. Change my apron before she gets here."

"And talk to her!"

"Talk to her," he repeated.

I didn't actually have a lot of confidence that this would work, so I wrote my cell phone number on a scrap of paper and left it with him.

"Call me if you have a problem," I said.

Burlew did some vigorous head nodding. "Yes, ma'am."

"Before we go I need to buy some pork chops," Lula said. "I have a taste for pork chops."

Diesel was on the couch watching television when Bob and I got home. There was a six-pack of beer and a pizza box on the coffee table in front of him. Some of the beer and pizza were missing.