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Olivia’s eyes narrow and she taps the bar. “Absolutely. I got the old guy covered. If he gets too cranky, I’ll send him to his office to do paperwork and handle the bar myself. I can’t make cocktails, but alcohol’s alcohol and folks can take what they can get or go somewhere else.” She snaps her fingers and grins. “Oh, right, there’s nowhere else to go, so they can drink beer and damn well like it.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, meaning it deeply. I think she will look out for Unc. Actually, from how quickly she suggested sending him to his office, I think she’s been looking out for him for a while.
By mid-afternoon, I get a lull and really get to work prepping. I’ve got every lemon and lime in the fridge cut, knowing I’ll use some tonight but will still have enough for Unc tomorrow. I’ve overstocked every napkin holder, washed a whole stack of bar towels, and cleaned everything to within an inch of its life so that Unc won’t even feel the need to wipe a rag around.
I move on to rearranging the most used liquors to the side of the bar closest to the beer taps. It’s a huge overstep on my part. Rearranging someone’s bar is akin to pulling their socks and underwear from their dresser drawers and organizing them a different way, but I think this will be a good change for Unc in the long run.
The phone rings and I answer, “Hank’s, Willow speaking. How can I help you?”
“Oh good, I was hoping it’d be you who answered,” a female voice says so fast I barely catch it.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s Shayanne. We’re wrapping up at the famer’s market and we already ate our lunch and snacks. I wanted to see if Ilene would package us up some food to go? Well, that and I wanted to talk to you too.” Every word is fast, nearly on top of the last, and I have to pay attention to catch each one.
“Uh, sure. What do you want to eat and I’ll go ahead and get that started?” I say, focusing on the easy part.
“Have her do a big box of fries, fried pickles, and fried mushrooms,” Shayanne answers, damn near asking for a heart attack in a box. But they all work hard, so maybe they can handle eating like that?
I scribble the order on a piece of paper, making a note that it’s to-go for Shayanne, and slip it to Ilene, who sticks it to her order rack before turning back to the grill.
“I was hoping to get by the market this morning too,” I tell Shay. “I thought it would be a great photo op, but I didn’t have time before opening. Maybe next time?”
“That’d be great! I can show you all the cute little booths and you can take pictures for your blog!” She sounds super excited about the idea, but then she screeches like a record scratch. “Oh, not that I mean you need to advertise for us. I totally didn’t mean it like that, promise. I meant that it’d be fun and cute, not to take advantage, and . . . I’m going to shut up now.”
I laugh, especially when she immediately starts talking again.
“I wanted to see if you’d come out to the farm sometime. I know you’re off Monday—Bobby’s been talking about that already. Believe me, we know. But being the lady of the Tannen house, well . . . kinda, considering I don’t live there anymore, but the point being, I wanted to invite you out. What do you think?” She stops on a dime, the one run-on sentence ending abruptly.
“Oh, well . . . thank you. I’d love to, but I think it’d be better if I wait for Bobby to invite me? I wouldn’t want to intrude before he’s ready.” Or before I’m ready, I think.
“He won’t mind a bit. It could be our little secret. You’d be like a surprise gift, and I’d be the best sister ever. Well, technically, I’m his only sister, but the point stands that I’m the best. Obviously.” She sounds utterly convinced, and nothing or no one could sway her otherwise. “You could take pictures of my goats. They’re the cutest critters ever, except for Baarbara. She’s gotten a bit persnickety in her old age. But I have a few babies. C’mon, nobody can turn down fluffy, cuddly, adorable baby goats that curl up in your lap for ear scratches.”
She’s wearing me down. I suspect she does that to a lot of people. Her exuberance is . . . engaging, for sure.
“Well, I’m actually unexpectedly off tomorrow. I have plans early in the day, but maybe in the afternoon? We could catch some good lighting then.”
“Yes!” I can almost hear her fist punch of victory at my agreement. “Okay, but here’s the deal, girl. Bobby’s coming in for dinner tonight and you’d best not say a word. Got it? Don’t ruin the surprise. Holy shit, I can’t wait to see his face when you pull up. I’ll send you the address.”
