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She took a breath. Then another. One step at a time.
Ella was already playing for the pre-happy-hour crowd. Maybe this shift would take Carolina’s mind off everything she had to get done.
At the bar, she forced her lips into an imitation of a smile. She needed tips tonight. She needed this job. “Hey, Naomi, how’s the crowd?”
“Happy hour hasn’t even started and it’s crazy. I think they’re celebrating that the last storm missed Savannah.”
Carolina wrapped an apron around her waist. She filled a server’s drink orders, checked with the patrons seated at the bar and topped off bowls of sesame sticks.
“Are you the singer?” a blonde woman asked.
Carolina wiped up a spill. “Yes.”
“I was here last Saturday. You’re incredible. Are you singing tonight?”
“No.” She laughed. “Only Fridays and Saturdays.” And that would probably end in three weeks.
“I don’t suppose you do weddings?”
“I have in the past. What are you looking for? The service or reception?”
“My mother’s getting married again and I told her I’d organize everything. You sang her kind of music. She loves Johnny Mercer.”
Lord, this woman had just implied Carolina’s song selection was for older people.
Someone a couple of stools away held up an empty beer mug. Carolina nodded. “Are you going to be here for a while?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be back.” She took the customer’s order, drew another beer and placed an order for appetizers.
Did she want to sing at weddings? It was good money, but she didn’t have a clue what life would be like after she brought Mamá home.
“What do you think?” the woman asked.
“When is the wedding?”
“End of January. Right here at Fitzgerald House. At least I’ve got that booked.”
Three months. She didn’t know what would be happening that far in the future. “I’m not sure. My mother is…sick.”
“I’m sorry. I hope she gets better. I know how much my mother means to me.” The blonde shook her head. “It’s a pity. You would have been perfect for my mother’s wedding, but I understand.”
“Thank you.” She picked up her empty cocktail glass. “Do you want another?”
The woman checked the time. “It’s still happy hour?”
Carolina nodded.
“Sure, I’ll take another.”
Naomi slipped behind her as she mixed the drink and gave her an elbow. “No sad faces back here.”
Carolina inhaled. “Right.”
With people now three deep at the bar, the time flashed by. Carolina poured a glass of ginger ale for herself and took a quick breath. “This is crazy.”
“I warned Abby we need three bartenders on the weekends.” Naomi tugged one of her dangling star earrings. “But now we’re getting slammed on the weeknights.”
“This is good news.” And kept her from thinking about her mother, her to-do list, and the fact that Sage was pulling away from her.
“Hey.” Sage’s voice floated over the counter as if she’d called him up by magic.
“Hi.” A flicker of joy filled her chest. She leaned forward to give him a kiss.
He bent and pulled out his stool. Avoided her. His face was hard. Serious.
“I thought you weren’t coming tonight?” Her voice shook.
“I ran out of paint.”
“Oh.” Her hand trembled as she poured his favorite seasonal and set it in front of him. “I don’t know when I can get to a hardware store.”
Adding picking up paint as another task to her never-ending list might be the straw that broke her back. Tears threatened to fall.
“I’ll pick it up in the morning. We’ll square things when you have a chance.”
“Thank you.” It came out a little watery. How would she find the cash to repay him?
He frowned.
“Is everything all right?” she blurted out.
He inhaled. “I talked to my mother.”
She touched his hand. “Is your family okay?”
“I’ve…got some things to think about.”
“Oh.” Was it about their relationship? “Are you going to be here awhile?”
“Just for a beer.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t cleaned up yet.”
So they wouldn’t be together again tonight. It wasn’t her imagination. Sage was pulling away.
* * *
“WE COULD TRY and carry the desk up the stairs.” Sage eyed the big rolltop desk they’d powered into Rosa’s packed living room. There was barely a path to move around the room.
