CHAPTERONE
KELSEY
Kelsey O’Henry didn’t believein the traditional five stages of grief. She had her own way of dealing. Push through. No matter what. She was many things—but being a quitter wasn’t one of them.
Her best friend, Isabella, often called her bullheaded. She wasn’t wrong. But the thing was, Kelsey wasn’t only bullheaded, she was short on time.
Who had time to go through the five stages of grief when they had three kids to take care of, a bar to run, and an alcoholic mama to babysit? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance would have to take a backseat.
With a crying baby on her hip, Kelsey filled a pint glass of beer from the tap. A local brewery had just sent over a keg of their newest seasonal brew—an autumn IPA with touches of peach and tangerine. Kelsey hoped it would be a welcomed addition to O’Henry’s growing fall menu of beer and hard ciders.
She slid the glass across the smooth bar top to one of her favorite awaiting customers to try. Isabella smiled at Kelsey as she picked up the glass and took a sniff before taking a sip. Typically a wine drinker, Izzy was picky when it came to her beer selection.
Isabella pursed her lips and took another drink before setting her glass down.
“So?” Kelsey’s brows lifted, bouncing the still-fussing baby Charlotte on her hip.
Isabella propped an elbow on the bar top. “It’s good. Really good. I’m impressed.”
The music in the bar was loud tonight, making it hard to hear her bestie’s response. A fall playlist the O’Henry’s server, Sophie picked out full of cozy and angsty vibes reverberated through the bar’s old speakers.
“You actually like it?” Kelsey leaned in.
“Yeah, I mean what’s not to like? A citrus IPA…in autumn? Where do I sign up?” Isabella stood from the stool she’d been perched on and adjusted the hem of her dark green sweater.
The tension in Kelsey’s shoulders loosened, but only slightly. Satisfied customers of the new beer meant she could cross one thing off her mental to-do list. Now she wouldn’t have to cancel the recurring shipments of the IPA kegs from Tapp’s Brewery.
That was, if she could afford the recurring shipments. The unpaid bills piled on the back desk haunted her like the Grim Reaper. Outwardly she pretended as if she had it all together, but her worry over the possibility of losing everything threatened to unveil itself.
Isabella reached her hands out for Charlotte who was still crying. Kelsey hesitated before handing her over. Charlotte was a difficult baby to console. She only favored a handful of people and Izzy usually wasn’t one of them.
“If you wanna try, be my guest,” Kelsey said.
“Shh,” Isabella shushed in Charlotte’s ear while she bounced her, but the baby continued to fuss. “Where’s your mom? I thought she was keeping the kids tonight?”
The tension returned tenfold, and Kelsey’s shoulders tightened. “Do you even have to ask?”
Rita, Kelsey’s mama, was currently passed out on the small sofa in the back office of O’Henry’s Bar and Grill. After years living with the disease, Rita was generally a functioning alcoholic. Meaning, she could be drunk without anyone knowing and a hangover rarely fazed her. But occasionally she went on a binger and Kelsey was reminded how life was like in those first few years after her dad left and the horror began.
Kelsey pushed up the rolled sleeves of her flannel and then filled more pint glasses two at a time now that she had both hands free.
“Why didn’t you call me? You know I’d take the kids,” Isabella said.
Kelsey snorted a laugh as she set the overfilled glasses onto a tray. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat, trying to recover. “I love you, Izz. But you’re not exactly Mary Poppins.”
Isabella gasped in mock offense, a hand pressed to her chest. “I should be insulted.”
Nudging her chin at Sophie as she approached, Kelsey slid the full tray across the bar. Sophie lifted it with a natural ease and carried it to a table of awaiting customers.
Kelsey returned her attention to Isabella. She tugged on the sleeve of Isabella’s sweater. “I appreciate you offering, but I need to come up with a more permanent solution. I can’t keep bringing them here.” She gestured at her two other children who sat at a nearby bar height table stacking salt and pepper shakers into a pyramid.
Her heart pinched in her chest. They didn’t deserve this. The two of them used to enjoy coming to the bar and seeing their daddy working. Ricky would make them Shirley Temples with extra cherries. He always introduced them to everyone who came into the bar, he’d been such a proud father.
Charlotte wailed even louder.
Kelsey exhaled a drawn-out sigh. She was so tired. She was pretty sure even the black hair on her head was tired. Taking Charlotte from Isabella, Kelsey pressed a kiss to the ten-month old’s head of soft strawberry blonde curls. Out of the three kids, Charlotte resembled Ricky the most. She had his green eyes and red hair. The other two, June and Zach, took after her with dark hair and blue eyes.
“It doesn’t help that Charlotte hates everyone.”
