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“At the moment nothing. In California I was the CEO of a beverage company.”
“I wish you could have been CEO for me here. Maybe it would have helped me keep things running a little smoother,” Old Man Davies jokes.
“Were you having trouble?” I’m surprised. Birchbark is the kind of place where people like to spend money on local businesses. They like to have a place to come together. What better place than a bar?
“I think the older I get, the harder it is for me to wrap my head around it, is all. Things are changing at lightning speed—at least that’s how it feels to me. Shipping is getting harder, and I know I should switch companies, but the ones I work with, we’ve been working together since the beginning. I made this place thrive in the past, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that it can thrive in the future. I just know I’m not the man who can do that. I want to see her go on and be a staple in Birchbark. My hope is to find someone who wants the same thing.”
I can’t really say why, but my pulse speeds up. My eyes start looking at the space in new ways, thinking of changes that could be made to bring it a fresher look but one that lifers in Birchbark will still see as the bar they love. Goose bumps run the length of my arms when my brain goes into business mode, my experience already providing ideas on how to make the bar more current.
I think about how I randomly ended up at the cemetery today. Talking to Mom and Ella, asking them to send me ideas on what I could do here. Taking a longer route home for no reason other than different scenery. Old Man Davies being outside with his realtor.
A buzz starts beneath my skin, a foreign excitement I haven’t felt in a long time. Dusty asked once if I loved my job, and while I liked it, I couldn’t say I loved it. There had been no fire lit beneath me, fueled by the passion that pushes through my veins in this moment.
This could be a mistake, might be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, but everything in my life is changing around now, and somehow I know this is the next step. “I want to buy the bar,” I tell Davies, who clutches his chest in surprise.
“What?”
“I want to buy the bar,” I say again, as Jeb’s smile grows.
*
Two hours later, I’m heading into Dusty’s Collision Repair, heart still racing, blood still rushing through me too quickly.
“Dust!” I call out.
Easton pulls back from a car he’s working on. “He’s painting. Is everything okay?”
“Yes! It’s fucking great!” I grab my brother’s face and plant a kiss to his cheek. He jerks away, probably wondering what in the fuck I’m doing. Have I ever done that to him before? Maybe when he was four and I had to kiss a boo-boo away.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asks just as Dusty comes into the room, wearing the jumpsuit he puts on over his clothes when he’s painting.
“What’s going on?” He frowns.
“I bought the bar!” I move toward him. “Well, I’m buying the bar. We still have to finalize everything. I know it seems crazy. I’ve never owned a bar in my life, but I want this, Dust. I know it’s the right thing. I went to see Mom and Ella and—”
There’s a clanking sound behind me, and I turn to see East dropped a tool to the cement floor. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Say it like what?”
His jaw is tight, eyes darting anywhere but at me. “That you went to see them. They’re not fucking there, Morgan. They’re dead.”
My thoughts twist up, not having expected this reaction and unsure what to say. “You think I don’t know that? I live it every day, East. Just like you.”
He turns away, rubs a hand over his short hair. “I’m sorry. I fucked this up. You’re excited, and I—”
“You didn’t fuck anything up. We’re good, East. You and I are good.” I glance at Dusty, who nods toward my brother. I walk over to him and pull him into a hug. East returns it, but not with the same strength I’m holding him. “We’re good,” I say again. It takes a moment, but his stiff body begins to loosen up against mine.
East sniffs, then pulls away, taking one swipe at his eyes. “Don’t know why I said that. Finish with your news.”
“That’s not important,” I try to tell him, but he shakes his head.
“It is. Finish your news, or I walk out. I can’t do this, Morgan.”
I know down to the marrow of my bones that he’s telling the truth, that if I try to talk about what he said, about Mom or Ella, that Easton will walk out. It kills me not to, not to find a way to reach him, not to be able to fix the pain that’s going on inside him. “Okay…but I’m always here to talk if you need to.”
And then I tell them about the bar, Dusty and East asking questions. I stay there with them until the end of their workday, East seeming to be past how upset he’d been earlier. When it’s time to close up, Dusty says to East, “You should come over for dinner tonight,” and I let out a sigh of relief. He’s so good at seeing what people need and trying to help.
“I’m fine, Dusty. You don’t have to babysit me,” Easton replies, and shit, there goes that.
