The next morning, Crissy was up early, dressed and waiting eagerly at the door. But it was her boss who showed up first, his stooped figure shuffling through the snow. He wore his signature plaid hat with the beaver lining he so proudly declared he trapped and skinned himself. The earflaps were tugged low and nearly brushed his shoulders. She hurried to let him in.

"Sorry about the trouble, Mr. Scott," she said. "I hate to bother you when it's this cold outside."

He waved her off and pulled at his scarf that was wrapped up around his nose. "It's all right, Crissy girl. It's good for me to get out of the house every once in a while. Doesn't happen often enough at my age." He chuckled then broke off in a rough cough.

"Can I get you anything?" Crissy asked.

Again, Mr. Scott waved her off. "A new body to replace this old used up one. But I don't suppose you've got a secret stash of those around. Getting old isn't fun, Crissy girl, you just stay your pretty young self forever, all right?"

He paused and seemed to reconsider. "Actually...you wouldn't happen to have any of those little peach cobbler pies around, would you?"

Crissy smiled. "In fact, I have two left with your name on them. They're in the kitchen."

As they made their way to the kitchen, Mr. Scott asked, "So how bad is it? When that Amy troublemaker called, she told me a little about it but that girl talks so fast, I can hardly pick out every other word she said."

Crissy stepped aside and gestured to the stove. "Have a look yourself."

Mr. Scott studied the damage for a moment. He hobbled closer and ran his hand along the counter, over the charred marks on the wall.

"Well, not as bad as I thought," he said. "Suppose we'll have to get someone in to fix the place up pretty soon."

Crissy retrieved the peach cobbler pies from the refrigerator along with a spoon from the cabinet. "I have a friend coming over in a few minutes. He offered to help out. If it's all right with you, of course."

Mr. Scott nodded. "Fine, fine. You young people have a better time of it keeping up with these sorts of things than I do. This place is more yours than mine now, anyway."

Crissy nodded to the doorway and held up the pies. "Breakfast?"

His eyes lit up. "Don't mind if I do."

Crissy offered her arm and Mr. Scott slid his hand into the crook of her elbow as they returned to the shop and chose a booth near the window. Mr. Scott peeled off his hat, scarf, and coat and set them on the bench next to him. Crissy slid the pies and spoon over to him and clasped her hands under her chin, watching him as he dug in.

"My Maria – may she rest in peace - always wanted to open a diner when this place was nothing more than a backwater town," he said. "She would have been proud to see what you've done with this here restaurant."

Crissy ducked her head, pleased. "Thank you, Mr. Scott."

He sighed as he took another bite of the cobbler. "Well?"

She frowned. "Well what?"

"What do you think? A new stove? A nice big fancy one? A good cook like you must have dreamed about a new stove ever since you got here. I've been promising to replace it for years. Now I don't have much choice."

Crissy hesitated. "I don't need anything fancy, really. Just one that works."

"Crissy girl, you've been keeping this little diner alive, not me. It would have died a long time ago. You deserve a nice piece of equipment. You've been making do with that old rattlin' thing for too long as it is."

Mr. Scott set his spoon down with a clatter and dug around in his coat pocket for a moment before he pulled out a credit card and slid it across to her.

"You take this," he said. "Buy yourself a new stove, one that's worthy of a fine cook like yourself. And don't be shy about expenses. There's plenty there."

Crissy shook her head and leaned back. "No, no Mr. Scott, that's...that's very, very generous of you. But..."

Mr. Scott took her hand and placed the credit card firmly in her palm. "All right then. I'm your boss and I'm saying I want a brand spankin' shiny new stove for my employees, namely my best employee," he added with a smile and a wink. "Don't tell Amy."

Before Crissy could reply, a light tap on the window next to them cut her off. Quinn waved with one gloved hand while his other hand carried a duffel bristling with tools. Crissy slid out of the booth and opened the door for him. As he stepped inside, he smiled, a full blown smile that lit up his face and he started to reach towards her. She learned forward, waiting for his hand to slide around her waist...but he hesitated. His smile faltered just the slightest bit and his hand dropped to his side.

"Morning," he said with a nod instead. His demeanor was still warm and his smile was certainly there but he seemed...unsure of himself.

Crissy's heart sank straight to the pit of her stomach. It looked like things were going to take a while to get back to normal then.

Mr. Scott shoved out of the booth with a suspicious squint.

"Mr. Scott," Crissy said. "This is..."

"Aren't you Frank Spencer's kid?" Mr. Scott cut in. "Quinn?"

Quinn nodded. Mr. Scott rubbed at his forehead, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He clasped Quinn's hand in a rigorous shake.

"I haven't seen you since you were a chubby little kid," he said. "Sure grew into all that baby fat, didn't you?"

"Thank god for that," Quinn replied.

"What brought you back to our little backwater? Didn't you run off after some pretty little...?"

Quinn cast a quick glance in Crissy's direction, a look that Crissy might have taken for panic except she'd never thought Quinn was capable of it. He'd been so calm in the face of that fire. She couldn't imagine him panicking over anything.

"Just blowing off steam," Quinn said, a little hurriedly. "You know, travel the world, see the sights, do stupid things to regret later when you're older."

Mr. Scott nodded, looking him up and down. "Well, you're not that round-faced boy anymore. A proper man now, seems to me."

"Quinn has offered to help with fixing the stove," Crissy put in.

Mr. Scott clapped him on the shoulder as they trooped into the kitchen. "How long have you been back in town anyway, Quinn? I don't get out much these days but sure thought I would have heard something at least, now that you're doing handyman work."

Quinn set the tools on the floor and tugged the stove out far enough so that he could slip behind it.

"I've only been in town for a few months," he replied. "And I'm working at the fire station two blocks down the street. Probably why you haven't heard much about it. Besides, this little job is only for Crissy," he added with a sideways glance in Crissy's direction as he pulled a flashlight and a wrench out of his bag.

She bit her lip and ducked her head to hide her smile.

Mr. Scott nodded. "You always did like them big fire trucks when you were a kid. And your girlfriend?"

A clink and clatter of metal was followed by a muttered curse from Quinn.

"You okay?" Crissy asked.

Quinn nodded as he rose and wormed his way out from behind the stove.

"Dropped my wrench," he said. "Where's the breaker panel? Electricity has to be turned off before I can disconnect the wiring and replace it."

Crissy pointed to the cabinet on the far side of the kitchen. Mr. Scott nudged her with an elbow as Quinn became focused on switching the electricity off.

"Always did that when he was a boy," he said. "Changed the subject and got busy when he didn't want to answer a sticky question."

Crissy frowned and started to ask what he meant but Amy's arrival cut her off.

"Sorry I'm late to the party," she said, tugging off her scarf. "Good morning, Mr. Scott," she added with a kiss to the old man's cheek.

Mr. Scott flushed pink and cleared his throat. "Quinn, what's the final verdict then?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"Well," Quinn sighed. "It looks like I'll have to do some rewiring which won't be a problem but the shop will be without electricty for half of the day at least."

"There's a battery operated space heater under the counter," Amy offered. "The heating is already pretty spotty around here. And we've got plenty of leftovers to keep the place open for a day."

"And the stove?" Crissy asked.

Quinn shrugged. "Hate to say it, but it looks like it's on its last leg. I could get the parts to have it up and running again in...a day or two maybe. But honestly? In the long run, you're better off getting a new stove."

Mr. Scott chuckled and elbowed Crissy. "I knew it. Well, I suppose you don't need this grumpy old man in your way anymore now that you've sorted everything out."

"Would you like a ride home, Mr. Scott?" Amy offered. "Manu left me with the car for the day."

"Walking is good for my bones. It'll give me an excuse to get away from that damned television for a little while. Crissy, my girl, you're in good hands with that Quinn. He's got much more patience for these things than I ever did. And remember what I said about the stove. No holding back now. Consider it a raise of sorts."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott," Crissy said. "That's very generous of you."

"Generous, ha. I've got no grandkids so you unlucky bunch get to suffer my company. Quinn, you take care of yourself and these fine girls. I don't want to hear that you've burned the place down around their ears. I'll bring a couple of beers by the station over the weekend as an excuse to heckle you some more with questions you don't want to answer." He laughed to himself as he shuffled out the door, the tiny bell over the door jingling softly as he left.

"You got him all flustered again, Amy," Crissy said.

Amy grinned and jumped up to sit on the counter, her legs swinging back and forth, her boots beating a steady rhythm against the cabinets.

"He likes it," she said. "It's the kiss on the cheek. Gets him every time. Why do you think he skedaddles as soon as I do it? His face was pink as a peach."

Amy jerked her chin at Quinn.

"Hey," she said.

Quinn paused, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

"I believe we got off on the wrong foot. But I'm not sorry I threatened you 'cause...you know...Crissy's my best friend in the entire world and if you hurt her, I'll kill you, so...clean slate?"

Crissy closed her eyes and sighed. "Amy, that's not..."

"No bones about it, sugar. Better get used to it," Amy said, then stuck her hand out to Quinn.

"Sounds fair enough to me," Quinn replied and shook Amy's hand.

He started to move past Crissy towards the stove again. She caught his wrist and he stopped. She held his arm out, turned him left, right, then left again. She circled around him, her hand trailing over his waist before shre she returned to face him again.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to figure out where all that baby fat disappeared to," she said. "You were a chubby kid? I find that hard to believe."

Quinn rolled his eyes. "I was as round as I was tall. Pete got me onto the wrestling team with him in high school. Then I grew a couple inches and the big kids stopped picking on me because suddenly I could beat their asses."

"You're too nice for that," Crissy replied.

Quinn shrugged. "Even the nicest people have their limits." He picked up his wrench again and gestured at Amy. "Your best friend there is proof of that I think. Tiny yet terrifying."

Amy beamed. "You better believe it. We're already getting off to a better start. I like it."

"So," Quinn said, working his way behind the stove again to continue working on the electrical socket. "Did I hear the boss left a credit card at your disposal?"

"He only does it for any expenses related to running the shop," Crissy said.

Quinn shot her a small smile over his shoulder. "He must be a remarkably trusting man. Or he doesn't realize the damage you could cause with that kind of freedom. I wish my boss did that every once in a while."

Amy snorted. "That's why the old man always puts it in Crissy's care and not mine. I can't even convince her to buy an ice-cream cone on his money."

Quinn ducked his head but not before Crissy caught the smile on his face.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Quinn replied.

Amy bounced off the counter and headed out of the kitchen. "I'll get that heater set up before it gets too cold in here. Crissy, do we have any candles left? I'll put them up in the front windows."

"In my room upstairs," she said. "Under my bed."

After Amy left, Crissy leaned against the counter next to the stove and attempted to peer over Quinn's shoulder as he worked but she couldn't see much. The area was small and Quinn's shoulders were broad, taking up every inch of space available.

"Show must go on kind of thing?" Quinn asked. "Won't close up shop no matter what?"

Crissy shrugged. "Something like that. I have bills to pay and as long as the shop is closed, I'm not getting paid. Mr. Scott probably would pay me just because he doesn't want to lose me as his one and only cook but..."

"You wouldn't feel right about that if you're not working for your wages," he finished for her. "I get that."

Crissy drummed her hands on the counter. She was so used to being the only one in this tiny kitchen, claiming it as hers even though she didn't technically own it. And now that she had no oven at her disposal, she couldn't cook. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd had someone who wasn't Amy or Mr. Scott in this kitchen. She never ever brought anyone else back here.

"How long do you think delivery will take for the new stove?" she asked.

Quinn stood, wiped his hands on his jeans and pointed to the duffle bag at her feet. "Could you hand me that box of screws?"

She dug around, found a clear plastic container of screws and handed them to him. He paused, counting on his fingers.

"A couple weeks at least," he said. "Provided the weather holds. And at this time of year out here..."

"Snowstorms every other day practically," Crissy said, her words heavy with disappointment.

"But if you had a car with four wheel drive, that wouldn't be a problem. You could pick it up yourself and get back to baking within one week, tops."

"I don't have a car though. I walk everywhere."

"I do. A truck."

Crissy tipped her head to the side. "Are you offering to go shopping for stoves with me?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Unless that's one of those chef's secrets I'm not supposed to know about."

She considered for a moment. "No, no secret. I'd be happy to have company."

"Then why do you look like you're plotting something?"

Crissy grinned. "Call it a date and you've got a deal."

Quinn's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

She nodded.

"Will there be turnovers at some point in this date?"

Her smile grew even bigger if that was possible. "Probably. Just have to pick the flavor."

He stuck his hand out and she shook it. "Deal."