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Feeling at loose ends, even with boxes still to unpack and belongings he needed to find places for, Martin decided to stroll over to the Steam Donkey. One of these days he’d try the pizza place, but this early evening he wanted a beer and adult conversation.
He felt certain that publican Magnus Ferguson would provide both.
Martin was greeted with a booming, “Welcome, have a seat,” when he pushed inside the pub. As usual, he was instantly too warm and began to peel off his layers. Maybe by next year he’d figure out how to dress properly for the shift in temperature between inside and outside.
Noting there was plenty of seating at the bar, the best spot for making conversation, he chose a seat at the end nearest to the door. He was two barstools away from an older man who, on a second glance, looked enough like Magnus that they had to be related.
“You must be Martin Purdy,” the older man said. “Rufus Ferguson. Call me Rufus.” He held out an aged and battered hand.
Shaking Rufus’s hand, Martin agreed that, yes, he was Martin Purdy, the guy who’d bought Cooper Springs Resort.
“Nice to have some new blood in town,” Rufus remarked. “I was starting to think Cooper Springs was going to dry up and blow away.”
“It might blow away, Pops, but I don’t think it will be dry when it happens.” Magnus leaned an elbow on the bar. “What can I pour you?”
Martin perused the tap list and decided on an IPA called Screaming Trees, which he personally found hilarious, even if he wasn’t a fan.
Returning with his beer, Magnus tossed a coaster on the counter and set the glass on it in front of Martin.
“So, how’s it going? Everything moved in? Pops told me Rob was out this morning.”
Ah, yes, the art of small-town communications. Martin had grown up in a small town, so he was familiar, even if it had been a while.
“Yep, doing good. Had a generator installed, seemed like a good idea. And have to admit, Xavier was the one who suggested it.”
This devolved into a discussion about what brand Martin had chosen and how there were quieter generators, but they didn’t put out as much power.
The door opened again and more townies trickled inside to take up a few more spots at the bar. Martin vaguely wondered where Nick was hiding or if he’d gone back to his cabin. A red-haired man about Martin’s age, maybe a few years younger, took the stool next to him.
“You serving today or just talking people’s ears off?” he asked Magnus.
“Are you taking correspondence classes in comedy school? They’re not worth the money,” Magnus quipped.
The guy started to laugh, making Martin smile along with him. “Old man, you do know about the internet? There’s no such thing as correspondence school in this century.”
“Feck off. What do you want to drink so I can ignore you the rest of the night?” Magnus looked at Martin and seemed to realize he had no idea who the man was. “Martin, my friend, this here is Forrest Cooper. Now you know who he is, you can cross to the other side of the street when you see him.”
Turning in his seat, Forrest grinned at Martin. “You must be Martin Purdy, the savior of Cooper Springs.” The tone was such that Martin knew he was teasing. Forrest stuck his hand out. “Forrest Cooper—yes, I’m related—but, instead of timber, I have a lavender farm north of town.”
Martin shook his hand. “Martin Purdy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I can assure you, not many people have said that,” Magnus interjected as he set Forrest’s beer down and walked to the other end of the bar.
“True, old man,” said Forrest, nodding morosely, “so why don’t you let me have my time in the limelight?”
“A lavender farm?” Martin knew there were several large farms further south but hadn’t realized Cooper Springs had one.
“It’s a work in progress. I’ve been planting for several years, trying to find the best variety for the area and for the soil I have. Xavier thinks the farm will draw visitors to town. But of course, lavender only blooms in the summer months, so I’m not sure it falls in line with his master plan. I’m also perfecting small-batch lavender lemonade. Magnus has some on hand if you ever want a taste.”
Martin thought Xavier was on to something. The more there was unique about Cooper Springs—like a lavender farm—the more people would want to come and stay for a while.
“Would it be possible for me to come out for a visit one of these days? The cabins aren’t going to be ready for months, and that’s if I’m lucky,” he admitted, “but tourists love locally produced goods, right? Maybe I could source some lavender for bouquets and sachets?”
Martin wanted to start off on the right foot in Cooper Springs. He was here to begin a new life and make new connections, and it seemed like offering a way for locals to be a part of the rejuvenation of the resort was a good first step.
Forrest’s broad grin grew wider. “Absolutely. I’d planned on stopping by and leaving some info for you anyway, but business over beers is better. You moved in this weekend, right? How’s it going?” He leaned a little closer to Martin. “How’s Nick?”
Martin wasn’t one to gossip, but he must have hesitated a beat too long. Forrest reached out and patted his arm.
