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“Yes, but let me wash my hands first.”

I duck into the powder room, washing my hands and splashing some water on my flushed face. It’s pretty cold outside, with temperatures hovering around freezing with the occasional snowflake, but in here, with the woodstove burning, I’m sweating from the workout.

“Whatever it is, it smells amazing,” I announce, walking into the kitchen, which Rick’s mother has made her own.

“That’s the indio viejo. Beef stew. The smell draws through the whole house as it simmers.”

She lifts the lid off my Dutch oven and hands me a spoon.

“It needs more time for the beef to get tender, but you can taste the broth.”

The hot liquid tastes rich and flavorful, like a warm hug on a cold day. Perfect for this time of year.

“Mmm, that is good.” I point to my other big pot. “What’s in there?”

“Gallo pinto, rice and beans. In Nicaragua it’s a staple, and we serve it with any meal. Fills the stomach. I also wanted to make empanadas, but I can’t find any flour.”

“Oh, all my baking stuff is in the laundry room.”

I’m not sure what the previous owners used the shelving unit behind the door for, but I designated it a pantry. Opening the door, I show Theresa the storage containers of flour and other bulky staples I hide behind there.

“Perfect. You don’t mind if I use some?”

I snort a laugh. “To make empanadas? Not in the least. I love them. Use whatever you need.”

She grabs the flour container and cradles it against her chest, looking at me with a sad little smile.

“They were Charlie’s favorite too.”

I freeze when she mentions Rick’s daughter’s name. Her granddaughter.

“Rico told you about her, yeah?”

“Yes,” I respond cautiously.

It feels like I’ve just stepped onto a slippery slope. The little girl is obviously a painful and difficult subject Rick doesn’t share about easily, and it feels a little disloyal to talk about her without him here, even with his own mother.

“Good. She was his everything. The sun rose when Charlotte was born and never set on my boy again until the day that baby died. So sweet, the spitting image of her daddy.”

She’d tucked the corner of a kitchen towel in the pocket of her pants and grabbed the other end to dab at her eyes. My own are growing rather wet.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I gently share, a little frustrated I can’t come up with something more comforting to say than that tired platitude.

Theresa turns to face me, a soft smile on her face. “I see my son now, those years of darkness slowly fading, and it makes my heart happy knowing he is letting light in again.”

I get what she’s talking about.

I remember when I first noticed Rick taking a seat at the end of the bar, sometime last year. His body language screamed “leave me alone” and his interactions were limited to ordering drinks and food, and asking to settle up his bill. He was dark and broody, and small talk was wasted on him. Then, over the months, I noticed small changes—he seemed to engage more with his surroundings—until one day we ended up talking. It wasn’t about much, I think he asked if it was possible he’d seen me in the hospital earlier that day, but it was a start. After that, any time he was at the bar when I was helping out, we’d at least exchange a few words. Sometimes about work, or events happening in town, and on occasion I’d have a beer with him while we talked about hiking, something we discovered we both love but don’t often have opportunity for, or music—where our tastes widely differ—or the current headlines.

It felt like he’d come out of his shell a bit over this past year, but the biggest change I’ve seen is since our relationship moved from casual friendship into something deeper. Rick is lighter now. He smiles a lot more, and where he once was reluctant to even make eye contact, he now seems to seek physical connection.

Of course, I didn’t know his history at the time, but I still noticed the change in him.

“I’m happy for that too,” I agree, smiling back.

My phone—which I’d never taken off the charger on the kitchen counter this morning—suddenly rings. The number on the display is familiar.

“Twice in as many days?” I tease my former mentor. “How did I get this lucky?”