Now the young man, who has a vague Irish accent tries to chat her up.  She gets younger by the minute, protecting herself as obvioulsy underage while at the same time flirting shamelessly.  When her coffee is done, she leaves and he watches her go out the door and around the corner.  The knitting women are watching him, clearly concerned that he will pursue her to the parking lot.  But when he gets up, it is to talk with them.  These women are old enough to be his mother- one his grandmother.  He is interested in the wool as his family exports Irish wool and cashmere.  Pretty soon, he has them laughing and scratching with tales of Ireland and sheep on teh north shore.