A/N: So I was most remiss last week in failing to thank Ms Kathy for her beta services. Ms K is enjoying some well-deserved time away this week, so Algie was kind enough to step in to pinch-beta in her stead. Thank you both for saving me from my own fail.

Shalloward returns …

~~ - ~~

March

Practice makes perfect.

I know what I'll be practicing tonight, thought Edward as he took down someone's brunch order. It'll be fucking perfect all right.

True to her word, Edward's enigmatic customer had vanished from the radar screen three weeks ago. During that time, he practiced a lot of things – many of which had nothing to do with making eye contact or being attentive to customers. His tips slid accordingly, although not back to the same level they were before the helpful stranger had entered his life and started giving him advice..

"I just seated Table 7 for you, Edward," said one of waitresses as she whizzed past.

"Thanks baby," he answered absently, taking the brunch order to the kitchen. He walked over to Table 7, wondering if the girl hired last week would be coming out to the club with them tonight. She had a nice rack and seemed to be fine with his attention, so maybe he'd be able to …

"Good morning, Edward." He looked up, startled, into two sets of identical brown eyes at Table 7.

"Oh … hey!" Edward smiled at his benefactor, then looked over at the little girl sitting in the booth. The child looked back him with the same heart-shaped face and brown eyes as the woman across from her. Her light brown hair reached to her chin, held back with butterfly-shaped clips. She was coloring the pictures on the kids' menu. "Is this your daughter?"

"Yes," said the woman. "Edward, this is my daughter Francesca. Francesca, this is Mr. Edward." The child offered a little hand to Edward which he shook gravely.

"I like to be called Frankie," she said in a dainty voice. "Mr. Edward, do you know the song that goes on and on and on and on?" Edward looked at the child's mother, mystified. On and on and on and on? What the hell does that mean?

"Don't Stop Believing," the woman said with an amused grin. "She likes the Glee soundtrack." Frankie smiled at him, batted her eyelashes, and went back to her coloring sheet.

"Wow," said Edward. "She could give my little sister a run for her money. And Alice is 14."

"So is she," said the woman dryly. "Six, going on 14. One day you'll have kids, and you'll understand better."

"Yeah, not so sure about that right now," he said. "Do you need some time with the menu, or do you know what you want already?"

"Coffee for me," she said. She placed her own order then gestured to Frankie, who didn't look up from her coloring sheet.

"Lox and cream cheese platter, please." Edward shot a look at her mother, but she didn't seem to think there was anything odd about a six-year-old ordering a $15 plate of smoked fish. He soon found out why when Frankie solidly munched her way through the platter, leaving only a few bits of bagel and some of the tomatoes behind.

"I bet you like sushi too, don't you Frankie?" he asked, squatting down beside her to look at her coloring work. This kid was easy to talk to; she reminded him of Alice at that age.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I like tempura and sashimi. Not the rolls. Or the disgusting eel that Mommy likes." Edward laughed out loud, and bantered back and forth with Frankie until he was called away to another table. But he was delighted enough with her company that he found his way back to the table several more times during the meal.

"Do you work here full-time, Edward?" asked Frankie's mother as the two of them chattered.

"Pretty much," he replied, glancing up. "I'm … uh … taking a break from school right now. I needed some time to figure out what I want to do with my life." He felt his cheeks redden a bit at the lie, but she didn't need to know the whole story.

"That's a good idea," she said encouragingly. "Sometimes you need to take time out to get perspective. And you're clearly putting that time to good use by being productive and earning some honest money at the same time." Edward winced at "honest money" and hastily turned back to Frankie, who was demanding his attention.

He was almost sorry to see her go. Frankie high-fived him when it was time to leave, and waved to him with a mittened hand at the front door of the restaurant.

"New girlfriend?" teased Jasper as he swung by.

"Younger chicks dig me," Edward replied. Eagerly, he picked up the tray to see what his customer had left him.

Tip #6: Play to your strengths.

He pondered this for a moment, then hunted for his tip. There it was. He wondered if this lady was actually a counterfeiter of $20 bills, and he was unwittingly laundering money on her behalf.

Tip #7: Write them down on a list. It might take longer than you think.

Why would it take him a long time? he wondered. He had lots of strengths.

~~ - ~~

"Hey Emmett," said Edward the next afternoon as he and his siblings lay in front of the television. Edward had the day off, and Alice and Emmett were both home from high school. "What do you think my strengths are?" Emmett looked at him like he'd just grown a second head out of his shoulders.

"Your strengths? What, are you answering a Cosmo quiz over there?"

"No, you dick. Just tell me what you think my strengths are."

Emmett laughed. "Let's see … does smoking up count? Spending money you don't have? Screwing girls you barely know? Lying?"

"Lying isn't one of his strengths," interrupted Alice. "If he was any good at it, he wouldn't keep getting caught by Mom and Dad." Both Emmett and Alice cracked up laughing.

"Fuck you both," said Edward, throwing a pillow at them. "Seriously …"

"That was serious," said Emmett. "Those are the things you're best at." Edward sat up and stared at Emmett.

"Don't listen to him," said Alice. "You have strengths. You're good at drawing. Plus, all my friends say you're really hot, even if that grosses me out." Edward rolled his eyes; Alice's little friends had started noticing him in a new way a couple years back, and their unwanted attentions had been a pain ever since.

"All right, yeah, good at drawing. What else?" No one said anything for a long moment, the sound of the television filling the cavernous silence. "Drawing? That's it?"

"No," said Emmett. "You forgot smoking up, spending money you don't have …" He threw his arms up over his face as his older brother advanced on him. "I'm sorry! What do you want from us? You've spent the last few years being a party boy and now you want us to tell you what a fabulous person you are? You don't do anything, Edward, except wait tables and have fun."

"Yeah, and you're such a model citizen," Edward snarled. "I notice you never complain when I buy you and your buddies beer or hook you up with weed." Emmett had the grace to look embarrassed at that.

"Maybe that's true, but I'm going to college in the fall. And Alice is smarter than the two of us put together." Edward stood there, scowling at his younger brother. "I'm sorry, Edward," Emmett repeated. "I'm not getting this. Aren't you happy with who you are, with what your life is? You've certainly fought hard enough these last few years to keep your life the way it is. Now you're worried about personal growth? What the fuck?"

Edward didn't know how to respond – to Emmett or to himself. Why was he doing this?

She thinks I'm a better person than I really am.

He turned on his heel and left the room.

~~ - ~~

Edward stormed around his bedroom, looking for a piece of paper and a pen. Eventually, he dredged up a stubby pencil and a torn piece of paper with a girl's name and phone number on it. He couldn't remember who the girl was, only the name of the club where he'd met her.

Frowning ferociously, he wrote Good at drawing on the blank side of the page. He thought for a moment, then added Great dancer underneath it. There followed a very long pause. Then Edward scribbled I dress good.

He looked at his list so far: short and not very impressive. He threw the pencil down and played a game on his iPhone for a bit. Then he came back to the list and added Very high scorer in Tap Tap Revenge.

Another long pause. Why the fuck am I doing this again?

Edward dropped the pencil, flipped over the paper, and punched the girl's phone number into his cell. A moment later, a feminine voice picked up.

"Lauren?" he said. "Edward Cullen. We met at Crobar a couple of weeks ago…"

If she wanted him to play to his strengths, he would.

~~ - ~~

The next Sunday found Edward back at Poppy's. It was 3 p.m., and the restaurant was very quiet. The door opened, and Edward looked up to see his customer walk in.

"Hi!" he called, gesturing her over to the counter. The woman came over and swung on to one of the counter stools, dropping her bag beside her. "Where's your daughter today?"

"Frankie's with her father right now." Edward poured a coffee and pushed it across the counter.

"That's nice," he said, beaming. "Are they doing something special today?" He realized that this line of conversation wasn't going well as his customer's smile vanished and she suddenly became very interested in her coffee cup.

"I don't know what they're doing, Edward. Frankie's father and I are … no longer together. It's his week with her."

"Oh," he said lamely. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay," she replied, still looking down at the coffee. "I just don't know what to do with myself when I don't have her, you know?" She glanced up and Edward could see the sparkle of tears in her eyes. Crying women terrified Edward, and his mind started chanting "Distract, distract, distract."

"I'm lucky 'cause my parents are still together," he said. "They're a really good couple, you know? My mom, Esme, is a maternity nurse, helping women have babies. And my dad, Carlisle? He's a real estate agent."

"A real estate agent?" the woman said, wiping her eyes discreetly. "That's a lousy profession to be in right now. How's he faring?"

"Not too good," said Edward. "Things are lot tighter than they were a few years ago. When the market was hot, he sold some really expensive houses." In an effort to keep the woman's mind off her troubles, Edward regaled her with some of Carlisle's biggest real estate sales, including a multi-millionaire dollar deal he'd inked for one of the Chicago Bulls. "But things are different now," he concluded glumly. If the economy hadn't gone into a slide, his dad could have paid off those bills for him no problem. But instead …

"You're working here because of that, aren't you?" the woman said suddenly. For a moment, Edward gaped at her, wondering if he'd said that last thought aloud. "You're working here to help your family out while the economy is in the shitter." She was looking at him with such admiration that Edward was momentarily speechless. "You amaze me, kiddo. You're a good kid, you know that?"

Say something! his conscience demanded. Edward opened his mouth to negate what she'd said, but another voice in his mind spoke up first. No, bigger tips if she thinks you're working for your family!

His mind wrestled wildly with this dilemma until, too late, Edward realized the conversation was moving forward without the misperception being corrected. His guilty conscience pricked him, but he caught up with what she was saying and, for the next half hour, kept both their minds occupied with stories about his life, family and friends. He thought he sounded normal, but after a while he started to wonder as the woman's face grew more serious, and her smile came less often.

I wish I knew her name.

He was a little relieved when the early dinner customers started drifting in, and he had to leave her. She smiled absent-mindedly, and shooed him off to look after the tables that were filling up. While he was serving his new customers, she slipped away.

On his way back to the kitchen with the orders, Edward grabbed the tray and examined it eagerly. Then his face fell.

You'll get your tip later this evening.

Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot.

~~ - ~~

Shortly before the end of his shift at 5 p.m., Edward felt a buzzing in his pocket. Under the counter, he whipped out his iPhone to read the text message.

Check your Gmail when you get home.

He didn't recognize the number, and deleted the message without sparing it another thought.

~~ - ~~

Later that night, Edward sat in his room, feeling discouraged. His customer had never come back with his tip, which made him feel oddly betrayed. Like you don't spend half your time blowing people off, he said to himself. Still, he had somehow felt she was one person who would never bullshit him. Annoyed with himself, he opened his computer to see what was happening with his friends. He suddenly remembered the text message he had received earlier, and went to his Gmail account first.

There was an email right at the top from an unknown address. The subject line read "Important message for Edward" and he almost deleted it as spam before changing his mind and opening it. He started reading, then stopped, his eyes bugging in horror.

The email contained his personal information. Quite a bit of it. Full name, birthday, address, phone numbers, the names of his parents and siblings … the detail was staggering. But even more frightening were the pictures – not of him, but of Alice and Emmett.

It had to be threat, one of the dealers he got his weed from. But he wasn't behind by a penny. Why would they be threatening him now? Oh my God, if anything happened to Alice...

Petrified, he scrolled down to the bottom of the email. Check your account.

"Holy fuck," he mumbled, his fingers trembling as he zoomed over to and logged into his account. He made it a rule to keep a zero balance (mostly because he spent every penny he could lay his hands on), but still …

His password hadn't been changed, and the account seemed unmolested. He peered at the numbers on the screen and frowned. Clicking through a few screens, he stared in confusion.

He had a balance of $20. He hadn't been robbed … he had been paid. Baffled, he opened the payment details and saw a note attached.

Tip #8: Be careful with your personal information.

Edward let out a huge breath of relief. He wasn't being threatened by drug dealers. Then his chest froze up again. No drug dealers - instead, his beloved customer was turning out to be a total stalking freak. He looked at the note again. At the bottom it read: Check your Facebook account. It was signed "B".

He went to Facebook. There was a message waiting, and he opened it with great trepidation.

Kiddo,

If I frightened you or made you uncomfortable in any way, please forgive me. But this is the most effective way to demonstrate to people just how precious their personal information is, and how easy it is for the bad guys to leverage it.

Information security and prevention of identity theft is an area of specialty for me, and it alarms me when I see my friends being careless with their private data. You are a trusting young man, and I never want to see you taken advantage of.

I hope you will forgive me. I have deleted all the personal information I gathered for the purpose of this illustration.

I sure hope we can still be friends because I really like the coffee at Poppy's.

Yours,

Bella

Edward slumped back in his chair, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. He was confused as fuck right now, and didn't even know how he should feel. Relieved? Humiliated? Pissed off?

He was supposed to head out to a club with some of his friends tonight, but suddenly, he didn't feel like it. Edward switched off his computer and phone, and went downstairs to watch television with Alice and Emmett.

He just wanted to keep an eye on them.

~~ - ~~

A/N: So yes, it's Bella. And yes, Shalloward just learned a harsh lesson. I see people falling for spoof emails on a daily basis, and it blows my mind how many people get rooked out of their personal information. You don't have to lock yourself in a bunker – but you do need to be mindful.

We'll see how Shalloward deals with this rude awakening in the next installment.