A/N: First, my thanks to Ms Kathy for excellent and speedy beta services. We learn more about Bella in this chapter than we have in previous ones. The most popular question from readers by far is "How old is Bella?" You (and Shalloward) will eventually learn that fact – but not for a bit.

Many thanks to all the readers who have followed this little morality tale to date!

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May brought spring with it to Chicago – real spring, with leaves on the trees, heat in the sun, and the promise of summer ahead. Edward knew it was spring because he was horny all the time. Accordingly, he started dating one of the waitresses at Poppy's, a pretty strawberry blonde named Tanya. They spent most of their time together fucking like bunnies, which made both of them supremely happy. Tanya had a terrific ass.

May also brought Bella to the restaurant every weekend, either on her own or with Frankie, depending on the week. Bella now seemed to be on a first-name basis with everyone on staff, and Frankie never failed to skip out of the diner with a few candies in her pocket or a warm chocolate chip cookie slipped from the bakery case into her hand with a wink from Poppy herself.

But Mr. Edward was her favorite, and Frankie delighted in him dancing attendance on her. She refused to sit in anyone else's section if he was working. Once or twice, Edward had nearly been knocked off his feet when she came dashing into the restaurant and threw her arms around his legs to hug him hello. She was impossible not to love – even for someone as jaded and self-absorbed as Edward Cullen.

One Saturday, Edward felt a familiar thump against the backs of his thighs as he punched in an order. He looked down and around to see Frankie gazing adoringly up at him.

"Hi sweetheart," he said, putting his hand on the top of her head. "Did you …" But before he could finish his sentence, Frankie was gone. He swung around and saw that today, Frankie had company in the form of two boys, slightly older that her. He felt put out that he had been replaced, then realized that was an insane thought. Bella and another woman were being seated at one of his tables, and Edward wondered if this new person was Bella's relative or a friend. He didn't know much about her family life, he realized.

Edward approached the table with a wide smile. The three kids were poring over some kind of handheld electronic game, scuffling over whose turn was next.

"Hello ladies," he said brightly. The stranger looked up at him with a tight smile, then darted a look at Bella, who finally raised her face to Edward's. He blinked in surprise. She looked terrible.

"Good morning, Edward," Bella said quietly, turning away. Her pale skin was red and blotchy, and her eyes were two puffy red slits. She'd clearly been crying. A lot.

Edward looked at the other woman in alarm. She shook her head a tiny bit, as if to say 'Don't ask.' Edward hastily handed out menus, took drink orders, and scuttled away.

Edward spent the next hour torn between his natural instinct to escape from woman-trouble, and an unexpected desire to hover over the table to make sure Bella was okay. What was wrong? There was nothing obviously wrong with Frankie – she looked healthy as a horse and was making all kinds of trouble with the two boys. Is someone sick? Did she lose her job? Does she even have a job?

By the end of the meal, he still didn't know what was going on, and Poppy was shooting him concerned glances. While Bella took Frankie to the restroom and the two boys were occupied with their game, Edward saw his chance.

"Um … I don't want to butt in or anything," he said awkwardly to the woman paying the bill. "But Bella – is she okay?" The woman looked up at him, her eyes narrowing.

"Well … I guess since it's you, she wouldn't mind me saying. Her divorce from Marcus was finalized on Friday. We all knew it was coming. It's been in the works for more than a year now. But it hit her harder than expected, seeing it like that on paper."

"Oh," said Edward lamely. "That sucks."

"It does," agreed the stranger. "It doesn't help that Bella has so little human contact in what she does. It's a terrible time for her right now." Edward saw an opportunity to obtain information.

"She doesn't have any family here in Chicago?" he asked innocently.

"Sweetheart, she doesn't have any family anywhere. Bella's all alone in this world," the woman replied. "Frankie's all she has now. Outside of her friends of course." She signed the receipt and handed it to him. "I just wish she didn't blame herself for the marriage falling apart. It's not like she didn't try everything and then some to hold it together."

"It's not her fault," Edward pointed out earnestly. "A lot of people get divorced. Sometimes I think it's more about luck than anything else, keeping a marriage together." The woman looked at him with an eyebrow raised, and Edward felt like an idiot for saying anything.

"Yes, well," she said, picking up her purse. "That's the truth. Maybe you can convince her of that." Frankie skipped past him, joining the two boys as they shot toward the door. The woman hastily chased after them, leaving Bella standing beside Edward at the table. He turned to look her, and felt his awkwardness vanish at the sight of her misery. For the first time, he noticed that Bella's clothes looked shabby because they hung on her too-thin frame, as if she had recently lost quite a bit of weight.

Edward felt a sudden surge of compassion, and he had an overwhelming urge to touch her. But waiters didn't go around hugging their customers, did they? He didn't move.

"She told you," said Bella softly.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm so sorry."

"So am I," she said, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. Edward twitched toward her, stopped, then moved again, unable to stop himself. Bella watched him warily until she knew for sure what he was doing. Then she took a little half-step forward into his embrace.

It was a brief, fleeting contact. He felt her head rest briefly against his chest, the light pressure of one of her arms wrapped around his shoulder. He smelled something sweet and pretty. Then she was out of his grasp.

"Thank you, Edward," Bella whispered. And she was gone.

~~ - ~~

As a rule, Edward rarely thought about Bella and Frankie during the week. (Truth be told, he rarely thought about anyone other than himself most of the time.) But that week, Bella's sadness nagged at him. He wondered how she was doing.

On the weekends she did not have Frankie, Bella usually came in on Sunday afternoon for coffee. So he was surprised to find Frankie around his knees on Saturday morning, grinning up at him. Edward looked back over his shoulder, but Bella was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was an irritated looking man bearing down on him at speed.

"Frankie, leave the young man to do his job," he said, peeling Frankie off Edward's legs.

"Daddy, this is my friend Mr. Edward. We're buddies forever," she said, smiling coyly. Edward tried not to let the shock show on his face as he realized that this was Bella's ex-husband. This was the man Bella had been devastated by. This man?

He's so old, thought Edward in horror as he found Frankie and her father a table. If Frankie hadn't spoken up, he would have thought for sure he was her grandfather. Smiling woodenly, Edward handed them the menus and escaped to fetch the coffee carafe. Composing himself, he came back to the table and took another look.

He was a large man, his heavy face sporting an impressive moustache. It was snow white, like his full head of hair. He spoke with a noticeable accent – Italian by the sound of it – and showed tobacco-stained teeth when he smiled (which wasn't often, thankfully). Edward suddenly felt like he was serving someone from The Sopranos.

The man (Edward hunted frantically through his mind for his name – Marcus, that was it) was friendly to Edward. Clearly Frankie had spoken of him enough that her father was aware of their connection and untroubled by it. But he was the last man in the world Edward could have imagined Bella married to – or Frankie being fathered by.

The thought of Bella and this man having sex made Edward feel sick for some reason, and he busied himself with other customers to make the feeling go away. He still felt off-balance when, 10 minutes later, he heard a hand slapping loudly on the table and an angry voice raised nearby.

"Francesca, mio Dio, sit down!" Edward spun around so fast that he nearly toppled over. Frankie was slowly sliding back into her seat, her head bowed. Her father had a thunderous expression on his face. "Just because your mother lets you wander around in here like a savage does not mean you will behave this way with me. Edward does not need a little girl bothering him while he does his work. Now sit and be silent!"

Edward felt rage shoot through his body. Who the hell does he think he is, talking to Frankie like that? Putting the coffee down, Edward took a purposeful step in their direction, but was abruptly halted. Hands had descended on his shoulders, holding him still.

"Stop, Edward," came Poppy's voice in his ear. "I know how much you care about Frankie, but she belongs to Bella and her father, not you." He stood frozen in her grasp, pulse pounding in his temples. "Her father isn't hurting her. He's disciplining her." Edward could see Frankie's pointed little chin quivering as she cried at the table.

"He's hurting her," he managed to say. "She's crying, see?"

"Frankie's crying because her father spoke sharply to her," said Poppy. "She's embarrassed that he scolded her in front of you, and upset that he's angry with her. She's just a little girl, remember." Poppy released him, turning slightly to see his face. "You have younger siblings – didn't your parents ever take them to task for running wild in a restaurant or throwing a tantrum in a store?"

Edward thought about that for a moment. "Well, sure … I mean, sometimes Mom and Dad still give Alice a talking to if she takes off while we're shopping downtown. But Frankie's so little." Edward tried to remember if his parents had ever raised their voices in that way to Alice as a small child.

"Every parent is different, Edward. Some people are more heavy-handed than others. But unless a child is getting abused in my restaurant, we don't intervene." She patted his shoulder in a motherly way. "You're a good boy, Edward. Give Frankie a few minutes – she won't want you to see her when she's crying. I'll take care of them for a bit. Why don't you take a break?"

~~ - ~~

Edward stepped out into the back alley and lit up a Camel. He blew out a big breath of smoke and shook his head. The adrenaline kick he felt earlier had faded away, and he was tired and confused.

The door creaked open, and Jasper poked his head out. "Hey," he said, stepping out into the warm air. He took the cigarette Edward offered and lit it. They smoked in companionable silence together. "So … you all right?"

"Yeah. I think so. I don't know."

Jasper nodded, as if Edward had said something intelligible.

"They've really gotten under your skin, haven't they? Frankie and Bella, I mean." Edward's first instinct was to deny, deny, deny. But suddenly, he was too exhausted to fight it anymore.

"Yeah," he said on a sigh. "They're just really cool." Of course, the instant he said it aloud, he regretted it. I sound like a fucking idiot, he thought, his face blushing bright red.

"There's nothing wrong with that, y'know," said Jasper, looking at him. "People connect all the time. Sometimes connections look wrong, but feel right."

"That's a good way to describe it," Edward said, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground. He glanced curiously at Jasper. "Hey, how do you know this shit? You like a philosophy major?"

"Nah," said Jasper with a grin. "I watch Oprah."

~~ - ~~

Edward came back in time to wrap up the bill for Frankie's table. Her father paid with a credit card - Marcus DiPalma. Much to Edward's surprise, he left a generous tip (not quite as good as Bella, but better than average). Marcus startled him more by shaking his hand on the way out.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Edward," he said. "Frankie and Bella have said so many good things about you. Frankie woke me up at five this morning because she was so excited to visit you." Edward smiled and led Frankie over to the big bowl of lollipops and hard candies on the counter, lifting her up so she could choose the one she wanted.

"Take two," he whispered.

"Thanks, Mr. Edward," she whispered back.

~~ - ~~

Bella came in the next afternoon, alone. No one else was around, so Edward greeted her with a brief hug, then poured her a coffee.

"Your daughter was in yesterday," he said.

"I heard." Bella settled down in a booth, tucking her feet up underneath her. She looked tired, but Edward was starting to realize that she almost always looked tired. "Marcus liked you, said you were a nice young man."

"Did he?" said Edward, chuckling weakly. "That was kind of him. He wasn't too happy that Frankie had woken him up at five in the morning just to get an early start on the day."

Bella's smile blossomed, then faltered. "I never thought I'd have to learn about what my daughter is up to from my waiter."

"What's it like?" Edward asked. "What's it like for you when Frankie is with her dad?" Bella sipped her coffee and pondered that.

"You know, you're the first person to ask me that since Marcus left," she said with a tiny smile. "There are advantages when Frankie's with her father, of course – I can't lie about that. It's nice to sleep in, nice to have the house completely to myself, to have my freedom again. But," she sighed, "even when I'm relaxing and enjoying myself, it's like I can't get a full breath when she's not with me. It's not until she comes back that I can breathe properly again. Then things make sense again." Bella smiled as Edward topped up her coffee. "It's lonely without her."

"You know, you can always come here," said Edward hesitantly. "You can bring your book or your computer 'n stuff and sit here when it's not busy. You know … when I'm here. It's not good to be alone all the time."

Bella stared at him for a moment, looking startled. For a moment, Edward thought maybe he'd said the wrong thing (again). He was always doing that. But then her face cleared, and her smile appeared again. Edward liked making the smile come.

"Thank you, Edward," she said at last. "That means a lot to me." She paused. "You're a good kid, you know that, right?"

Later that night after he got home from work, Edward dug through the crap on his desk until he found the crumpled piece of paper with his short list of strengths on it. He smoothed it out and, unknowingly poking his tongue out of the side of his mouth, wrote I'm a good kid.

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A/N: Shalloward makes some progress! Next chapter will bring more of the Cullen family into the picture. Read 'n review!