Chapter 379: Weaving a Fairy Tale (Part 3)

"The weather's awful, come in quickly," Charlie said, reaching out to help old Mr. Hunter inside the café.

"Please wait just a moment. I've got some beef stew and bread in the fridge. I'll heat it up—it should be just enough for the three of you," Yvonne called from the kitchen, poking her head out and greeting the group.

"Thank you, kind sir and madam. My husband and I are just a bit cold. That's New York for you—rain at night can make it chilly, even when summer's around the corner," Didi croaked, feigning a voice hoarse from the cold.

Sitting in the car across the street, Jack extended his hand out the window to feel the raindrops. He couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Was Didi overdoing it a bit? How cold could late-spring New York really get?

"Hold on, I'll make you some hot tea," Charlie said, fumbling as the clattering of dishes sounded from the back, causing a moment of nervous laughter.

"Honey, maybe you should go to the kitchen and watch the stove," Yvonne said softly, gently holding Charlie's face and kissing him tenderly as she took the teapot from him.

"Oh, Jack, I haven't watched you cook in ages, perched on your back like that," Hannah said, suddenly sentimental, clutching Jack's arm playfully.

Jack chuckled and patted her head, remembering the days when he used to crash at the little heiress's place. There had been some sweet moments back then.

Before long, three steaming bowls of tomato beef stew were served, with a plate of bread placed in front of Dupree, who was still in his homeless disguise.

"Sorry, we're closed today, and this is all we have left," Yvonne apologized.

Didi clasped Yvonne's hands, her expression warm and motherly. "Thank you, beautiful girl. This is more than enough. It's the best soup I've ever had. Your business will surely thrive."

Yvonne's eyes filled with tears, and Charlie quickly put his arm around her to comfort her.

Noticing the puzzled expressions of the two elderly visitors, Charlie forced a smile. "We're in debt and might have to sell this place."

"That's a real shame," Didi said, her tone full of regret, but old Mr. Hunter stopped her from saying more.

"My wife talks too much—it's just her age. Thank you for the meal. Please, don't mind us. Continue enjoying your evening together," he said gently.

As the soft, melancholy sounds of blues music filled the café, Charlie and Yvonne embraced once more, while Dupree slurped his soup, looking somewhat frustrated that he hadn't had a single line to say since entering.

"Maybe we should leave New York," Yvonne suddenly suggested, catching Charlie by surprise.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, we're practically becoming a public spectacle here. Those reporters, and all these bizarre things happening," she explained, her voice heavy with the weight of recent events.

Charlie was silent for a moment, then looked Yvonne in the eyes.

"I have a distant relative in Buffalo. He's a good guy. Maybe we could stay with him for a while. I could become a police officer there."

Yvonne hugged him tightly, whispering, "And I could be a Buffalo waitress."

In a corner, unnoticed by the couple, Dupree discreetly pressed the shutter on his small camera, capturing the moment.

---

The next day, *The New York Post* ran another strange headline: "Warmth in Dark Times," accompanied by a photo of Charlie and Yvonne locked in a tender embrace.

In the article, Dupree recounted his experience the previous night in the first person, concluding with these words:

"Even in their darkest hour, this brave and honorable Officer Lane and the kind-hearted Miss Biasi still served me a free, delicious meal.

As we left, Officer Lane even pulled some money from his pocket for me, apologizing that it wasn't much. And this compassionate couple personally escorted two lost elderly people back to their home.

Now I must confess. While the $100,000 bearer bond was real, the announcement was a well-intentioned lie. 

The money came from an anonymous benefactor who said it was a tip for a bowl of stew that wasn't perfect but warmed the heart. That money always belonged to the beautiful Yvonne Biasi. 

The benefactor's exact words were, 'Yvonne Biasi showed me the gentlest side of New York City. I can only offer this small token in response to her misfortunes. Please treat the prior statement as a test—nothing more than a small challenge from her future in-laws.'"

---

"So, they ended up keeping the café?" Emily asked, clasping her hands to her chest, her expression dreamy.

The women around her wore similar looks of delight.

"Of course. New Yorkers sent so many letters in one week that they could've filled the café, each letter containing blessings and a small check. 

With Jack's anonymous $100,000 donation, they ended up with about $700,000 in total tips," Garcia said, her chubby face beaming with pride.

"Just two days ago, they sent out wedding invitations across the city via hot air balloon. Jack brought one back," she continued, pulling out a heart-shaped pink card that read: *The Policeman Marries the Waitress!*

"I can't believe it. I had the chance to see all this happen with my own eyes," JJ groaned in regret. She had distanced herself for no reason, and now she wished she had used her parents as an excuse to go to New York. Instead, her "rival" had experienced all the fun—both figuratively and literally.

"I can't believe it. A real-life fairy tale where the kind prince and princess live happily ever after," Emily sighed.

Reid, always the realist, chimed in to ruin the moment. "You should know that, according to the latest statistics, the divorce rate in New York state is—"

"Shut it, Spencer Reid!" The women shouted in unison, cutting him off.

Just then, Jack emerged from Hotch's office, noticing Reid covered in sunflower seed shells. He had no intention of helping him. The guy had asked for it.

"Since when did you all start eating sunflower seeds?" Jack asked, surprised to see the women chatting and snacking on seeds. He felt like the vibe of the BAU was getting more and more off-track under his influence.

He had thought his sunflower seeds, boiled and roasted with cream, wouldn't be as popular as his usual snacks.

Americans, after all, generally only cracked sunflower seeds during baseball games or in a few states like Mississippi. To most, sunflower seeds were bird food.

Garcia raised her hand enthusiastically. "I looked up how to crack them online! But I still don't get why you made the shells so tasty if you're supposed to eat the seed inside."

Jack rolled his eyes, not knowing how to respond to such a silly question.

"Alright, time to get back to work, ladies. We've had enough of a break. LAPD has requested our help directly. Last night, three unidentified male bodies were found in a lifeguard tower in South Bay, Los Angeles," Hotch announced, stepping out of his office with a file in hand.

JJ pouted playfully. "LAPD's gotten so familiar with us that they're skipping the local office? Why didn't I hear about this?"

"Because I just brought it back from outside. I joked with someone that we've been lacking fresh serial killers lately, and they handed me a case," Jack explained, patting Reid, who was still sitting in his seat. "What's wrong with you?"

"Hotch called for 'the ladies,' didn't he?" Reid responded, deadpan, making Jack pause for a second before bursting into laughter.

BAU's atmosphere had never been better. Even Hotch was starting to crack jokes, and Reid could finally take them.

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