Page 16 of One Chance to Stay
Amanda shrugged, concluding the story. Having heard tales about Firefly’s whisper network, I expected theories and conspiracies. Had Gladys not once cornered him for an interrogation? The fact that he remained a mystery made him all the more intriguing.
I had to admit, I was becoming overly invested in this man’s secret life. Is this how it started? A casual question, then gossiping in a shop? Next, I’d be inviting myself over to listen to old records. Dammit. Without realizing it, I had become one of the nosy neighbors they all joked about. I couldn’t help but laugh at my inner monologue.
“Oh.” Jason shook his head. “I think we broke him.”
Jon snickered. “He came in as a simple bartender. He leaves as a singing dom with a pet lich.”
“That’s my cue to head home and do some cleaning.” Amanda waited a moment before crossing her arms. “Nobody? Nobody’s going to ask why I’m cleaning?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “We all know Tessa is coming to visit. It’s not like you haven’t mentioned it a million times.”
“Consider this a million and one.” She slammed her hands on the table, leaning as far over as she could. “My sexy girlfriend is visiting. Don’t expect to see me for a few days.”
“Ew,” Jon said.
They might not have converted me to Monsters and Mayhem, but I appreciated being invited into their inner circle. Seeing them outside of the bar gave me a deeper understanding of what made them friends. This right here is why I loved talking with people. Finding what made them tick, both good and bad, filled my well. Maybe that’s what I needed, a change of pace that put people front and center? I’d have the next day to think about it before I made an awkward appearance at Seamus’s house.
Or I could do some shopping to make it less awkward.
My problems could wait.
DANCING THROUGH THE SILENCE
I eyed the floorboards where I nearly froze to death. The air had an aggressive bite while my muscles ached at the thought. My fingers tightened around the bottleneck, hoping for warmth through the glass. I knocked at the door. Would Seamus answer with a rifle, or had I been upgraded to a pistol?
He appeared from the living room and opened the door without fanfare. Unlike last time, I could focus on him and not on my numb fingertips. The knitted wool sweater swallowed him as if he might have been bulkier at one time. The gray top and bottom were divided by a wide purple band, now drooping across his belly.
“In or out? I’m not heating the outdoors.”
I chuckled as he stepped to the side. My mom had said the same thing growing up. We’d run inside and out all day while playing. Eventually, she took her cue from the neighborhood moms. If I left in the morning, I had to be back at lunch, no sooner, no later. The same for dinner.
“Shoes.” One word, and I didn’t have to ask what he meant. I kicked off my boots, setting them next to the three pairs lined in a row.
Once inside, he shut the door. I nearly forgot my manners and held up a bottle of whiskey. “Mom told me never to show up without a gift. Besides, I owe you.”
He hesitated, glancing from the offering to me. He scoffed. His version of a laugh? “This is the good stuff.” He waited another moment before reaching for it, holding it high so the light from the living room sparkled through the amber liquid. “Should I pour a glass, or do you prefer it from the tap?”
“Seamus, did you crack a joke?” It wasn’t rhetorical. I honestly couldn’t tell if he jested with me or asked in all seriousness. He didn’t answer the door with a gun, and he offered me a drink. We were practically best friends.
“Have a seat. I’ll get the glasses.” He held the bottle to his chest, ensuring I wouldn’t take a swig. He had definitely cracked a joke.
With the lights on and my teeth not chattering, I could finally get a sense of Seamus’s house. The living room had a couch on the far wall with a well-used recliner close by. They were hardly worth a mention compared to the fireplace made of river stones, an old wooden beam for a mantle and flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookcases.
“Your home is amazing.” I could hear the glasses clinking from the kitchen. I took off my jacket, tossing it on the back of the couch. To my surprise, nowhere on his bookshelves did he have,How to be a GrumporLady and the Grump. Instead, they were filled with a mixture of literary classics, westerns, and practical books about farming and Maine agriculture.
“It’s rude to snoop.”
“If you didn’t want people to see them, don’t put them on your shelves.” I turned around, almost knocking the glass from his hand. “Westerns I expected. Agriculture makes sense. ButTwenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?”
“Every now and then, a man needs an adventure.” Seamus’s eyes held… sadness?
His words held a melancholy, as if he once longed for an adventure and never took it. As quick as he said it, he let out a slight cough before handing me a glass. A moment later, he took a seat in his armchair. “Normally, a person brings that affordable swill. How do you know about good whiskey?”
“I’ve been bartending for the last five years. I know the difference between the good stuff and the… Well, you didn’t shoot me on sight.” I held the glass up in a salute. “That earned you quality. How didyoulearn about it?”
Seamus knew how to savor his liquor. A quick swirl. His nose hung in the glass, taking a breath that filled his lungs. Once satisfied, he had the tiniest of sips, his tongue licking his lips. It was only after he indulged his other senses that he had himself a proper drink.
“Pops. He didn’t drink often, but when he did, it had to be worth drinking.”
