Page 12 of One Chance to Stay
“I’m already regretting this.”
I backed away from the counter, giving him a wave. “Be prepared to regret it plenty.” I spun about, heading to the door. “Tomorrow. Seven.”
I couldn’t see his face, but without onlookers, I’d like to believe the corner of his lip turned into a grin. We’d see if I could catch a glimpse of it tomorrow night. That gave me the next day to see what Firefly offered in the way of top-shelf whiskey.
Now that I had accomplished my one goal for today, I had nothing to occupy my brain. While I appreciated the distraction, it was time for me to have a quiet moment by myself to collect my thoughts. I had come here hoping for some introspection, and so far, I had done everything in my power to ignore it. Solving the problems of others… easy. Grappling with my issues? Ugh. That sounded like work.
I pushed open the door to the hardware store and stood on the street. Even the sun couldn’t break through the chill in the air. It was time to figure out what the folks of Firefly did when they couldn’t… tend fields? For all my years in Maine, I still didn’t quite understand how Northerners lived.
“I guess it’s time to find out.” I let out a lengthy sigh. “First, coffee.”
LESSONS IN HARDWARE
She moved between the grinder and an espresso machine like a boss. Pounding down on the grounds, she slid it into place and flipped a lever. Without looking, she grabbed a metal cup and spun it in her hand before setting it down. In went the milk and next the frothing.
“You’ve tended bar,” I said.
She grabbed a coffee cup, tossing it behind her back and snatching it out of the air. It had taken me months to learn this level of flair while she made it look effortless. Dropping the mug on the counter, she dumped in the espresso. With a deft hand, she poured in the milk, leaving a perfect foam leaf on the surface.
“Bartending Champion two years in a row. Name’s Rita.” She shot me a wink as she slid the cup in front of me. “You caught me in a mood.”
“A good mood, by the looks of it.”
I handed her my credit card. Others might give her a smile and leave it alone. I needed to know. Caffeine would fuel my body, but the soul needed a good jumpstart as well.
“So, Rita, why the good mood?”
“My twin called this morning. She’s coming to town for the bonfire. I haven’t seen her in almost a year. The honeymoon isfinally over, and she’s coming back to reality. She loves small-town shenanigans.”
She couldn’t stop beaming an infectious energy. I smiled at her good news.
“Is the bonfire a big deal?”
Her face went blank as she returned my credit card. “Dear. You’re obviously not from a small town.” A simple question outed me. “Everythingin Firefly is a big deal.” Hearing Jason and Jon talk about whatever event the town had planned, I believed her.
“Duly noted.” I held up the coffee mug, smelling the wonderful liquid energy. “Thanks.”
I took a seat in the coffee shop. It was down to me and an older gentleman in the corner reading the paper. As I tried to place his face, he looked up and gave me a slight nod. Older, I couldn’t identify him, but something seemed familiar. I chalked it up to Firefly’s tiny population.
As I sipped, I swear I could feel the warmth spread through my body. I wiped the foam from my mustache. The coffee shop was exactly what I expected in a small town. A single proprietor was behind the counter and only a handful of tables. If twenty people descended on the rustic shop, there’d be standing room only. I assumed with the snowfall, the residents hid inside their homes, cozying up to their fireplaces.
Not that Bangor was a huge city with constant excitement, but it didn’t have the relaxed vibe of Firefly. As I savored another piping hot sip of my latte, I thought about the bar. I’m sure Sammy covered my shift with his usual flair. After all, I had trained him.
Unlike me, he loved the showmanship of being a bartender. Sammy loved the chemistry of cocktails and finding the perfect blend. Where he focused on his craft, I focused on the people.At the heart of this turmoil storming in the back of my head, the love of people, the answer rested with them.
I loved my job. I didn’t lovethejob. That always stuck in my head. The highlight of my nights was the people rushing to the bar. Some blurted out that they celebrated a birthday or an engagement. I’d slide them a cocktail on the house, and then we’d begin the usual conversation. They were always fun, but it was the silent people sitting in the corners that drew my attention. The reluctant talkers were often the people who needed a little bartender magic.
The gentleman folded the paper, setting it on the table before picking up his coffee. He wore an insulated military jacket, but he lacked the buzz-cut or rigid posture. I’d place a bet that he hadn’t served, which left me wondering why this particular?—
“Mind if I have a seat?” He didn’t wait for a reply as he walked over, claiming the seat opposite me. Tipping an imaginary hat, he reached across the table, offering a hand. “Logan,” he said.
I grabbed his hand. Firm grip and coarse hands that reminded me of Seamus. “Of Logan & Son?”
He nodded. “That’s me.” Then it dawned on me. My eyes widened as I realized the connection. I had never seen him in person. However, the calendar that hung on the wall at the bar sported the man.Allof him.
Logan laughed. “Is there anybody who hasn’t seen my willie?”
“That’d be a Texas-sized no,” the barista shouted.
