Page 23 of The Art Of Starting Over

People she probably knew sat at the bar, drinking beer, cocktails, soda, or water. Some munched on appetizers, while others ate full meals. A few watched the television in the corner, while others chatted to their stool neighbors. The Lazy Lamb was busy, and seeing this warmed Devy. She wanted her brother to succeed.

They sat down, and a waitress brought them menus.

“Wow, you have staff?” Devy said as she opened the menu.

“I do. It’s strange. I never thought I’d be able to have my own place. My own beer is on tap. People come in all the time. They love the food. The atmosphere. The live music on Friday nights.”

“I’m proud of you.” Devy reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Does Dad come down?”

Colt nodded. “Yep. He’s a regular. Sits at the bar, in the same spot.”

“Can I have a spot?” Maren asked.

“You can only sit at the bar if your mom sits there with you.”

Maren’s eyes widened, and she glanced at her mom. “Can we?”

Colt laughed. “I’ll bring you down when we’re not open and teach you how to make your own Shirley Temples.”

“Can I put the cherry in?”

“You can have all the cherries you want.”

Later, when they were home, Devy would tell her brother that, in a matter of minutes, he’d managed to make her daughter smile brightly for the first time since everything with Chad had gone down. Devorah was grateful for him.

They ordered, and while they waited for their food, Colt took Maren to play arcade games and select songs from the jukebox. Devy sat back and sort of zoned out. She could hear people around her, coming and going, laughing and having a good time, but they were alla blur. She had tucked herself into the corner, hoping to avoid anyone seeing or recognizing her.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Her eyes cleared and focused on a little boy, and then she saw the man next to him. She sat up and cleared her throat. Hayden stood there with his hand on, presumably, his son’s shoulder. Her wish of being left alone had gone out the window, but she had to admit to herself it was nice to see another friendly(ish) face, even if the last time she’d seen him, she was crying her eyes out in his truck. Still, she wasn’t sure she was in the mood to socialize.

“Devorah, this is my son, Conor,” Hayden said proudly as he glanced at his boy. “Conor, this is Mrs. Campbell.” The young man stuck his hand out to shake hers. It caught her off guard, and she slowly extended hers.

“You can call me Devy,” she said quietly to Conor.

“Are you Maren’s mom?”

Devy nodded. “She’s in the back with her uncle.” She pointed toward the game area.

“Dad, may I go say hi?”

“Sure, bud. I’ll be right here.”

As soon as Conor ran off, Hayden sat down. Devy sat up straighter and wished she had said no to dinner. Being out in public wasn’t her idea of a good time right now, and having to put on a facade for Hayden didn’t register high on her social meter. Curled up in bed, wallowing in self-pity was more her speed at the moment. And Hayden seemed so chipper, which was in contrast to her demeanor. Why would he want to sit and talk with someone as down as her?

“How are you?”

She looked at him for a long moment, wondering how she was supposed to answer. “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. Devy clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m here, which is something.”

Hayden looked around. “My dad said Colt had bought this place. How does he like it?”

“Loves it. He’s very proud of it.” Devy looked around and then back at Hayden. As soon as they made eye contact, she looked at the table. “Is your dad still the town doc?”

“Nah, he’s retired and living the dream.”

“Which is?”

“To annoy my mother.” Hayden laughed. “They travel a lot, or they did. I don’t know that they will until I get my house built.”

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