“You know, Mom and Dad would be so proud of you, going to college on a football scholarship.”
Will looks down to hide how my words affect him. “I wish they could be here with us. I miss them.”
“Me too. Every freaking day.”
When I was eighteen and Will was eight, our parents died in a freak accident during their twentieth wedding anniversary celebrations. It still feels like yesterday, but at the same time, I sometimes wonder how it has only been ten years.
“Anyway, I better get ready for my shift. I’m working until ten,” Will mutters and moves to the bathroom.
I call after him, “Three people, Will!”
“I heard you the first time!”
“Just checking that you actually paid attention to what I said.”
As I prepare my lunch salad, I can’t stop replaying our conversation and how Will said I should “live a little.” I have given up a lot to raise him, and I know he didn’t mean it in a condescending way, but his words hit a nerve. Maybe once he’s in college, I can think about whatI wantinstead of whatwe need.
* * *
Drifting through the door to the restaurant after my break, I can’t believe my eyes—it’s packed with our regular crowd as well as tourists here for the weekend. The chatter of the patrons fills my ears as the mixture of aromas pours from the kitchen.
As she spots me, Sally rushes over, her blonde hair messier than an hour ago. “Thank God you’re here. It’s been cray-cray since you left for your break.”
“How can I help?”
“Get the mop and a bucket. The kid at table four just spilled his milkshake everywhere.”
I stop and cross my arms playfully across my chest. “Thanks for waiting for me to come back and clean it for you.”
“Hun, he just spilled it fifteen seconds before you walked in. You were the one asking how you can help,” she points out.
“It still sucks.”
“Only three more hours until we both have the weekend off. Think about that while cleaning.”
“Whatever you say,” I mumble as I walk toward the kitchen for the cleaning supply closet, Sally on my heels.
The cook turns the radio louder and motions us to take the food-filled plates waiting under the heat lamp. I shake my head, pointing to the closet. He shrugs and continues food prep, singing along to the song playing.
The song ends, and the radio host starts speaking:One lucky winner will win four VIP passes to the festival and a year’s worth of Blackbeard Energy Drinks, a gift from the giveaway’s sponsor. All you gotta do is call 555-1902 when “Whiskey Lullaby” by Alison Krauss and Brad Paisley starts playing. We’ll choose the winning caller randomly during the song. Good luck. Next on WHTK…
I freeze as I reach for the mop, processing what he’s just announced—a chance to win four VIP tickets to the Mountain Country Festival hosted near our town for the first time this weekend.
The upbeat song by my mother’s favorite band, Rascal Flatts, starts playing, and I glance at Sally standing next to the soda fountain. “Did you hear that? Four VIP passes to the MCF!”
I wanted to buy tickets to the festival last fall, but the ticket sales happened to be the same month I paid for Will’s senior school trip and a new dishwasher. When I finally had enough extra cash to spend on myself, the tickets were already sold out—just my luck. The resale prices are almost tripled compared to the original, so I’m still without one.
“Well, you can’t lose by trying, hun,” Sally encourages me, filling the red reusable cup with Coke. She takes a sip and pulls a face. “It’s running low on syrup again. My break started five minutes ago; otherwise, I would change it.”
“No worries, I’ll get another box from the back. Go and enjoy your break.”
Ten minutes later, when I have mopped up the spilled milkshake and am changing the syrup, I hear the familiar first notes of “Whiskey Lullaby.” I quickly take my phone out of my jeans pocket and dial the number the host mentioned earlier. Walking faster than ever, I push the restaurant’s back alley door open and lean against the brick wall while the phone rings.
It takes a long time before the call connects.
“It’s Kaylee here at WHTK. Who am I speaking with?”
My throat suddenly feels dry. I cough and clear my throat. “I’m Tanya.”
