Page 18 of Time For You
In my head I was certain it was going to be torn down by the time we arrived back at the ranch, even though I knew my mind exaggerated that scenario. It still left me bereft.
“I know, Daddy. Thank you all for supporting me, even if it didn’t turn out in our favor.”
Dad said his goodbyes and the rest of us headed across the street to The Purple Goat. To this day, I was still unsure how the bar came about its name. Mom theorized it was something Harold lost a bet on.
It seemed everyone we knew liked to make a wager every now and then.
“Morning, ladies,” Harold called out from behind the bar where he was wiping down the dark oak finish. It had lost its glossy luster years ago.
My favorite part about The Purple Goat was that it had some of the best food in town. Not just the typical bar food, but Harold had a retired, award-winning chef working in the kitchen. There was no menu before 9 p.m. If you wanted food, you got what the chef was making that day. We had never been disappointed.
“Harold, dear.” Mom put on her most pleasant voice as she worked on the older man. “It’s been a long and arduous morning for us. Do you think we can start with some mimosas? I have a feeling we’re going to be spending most of the day in your lovely establishment.”
The man chuckled as he tossed his rag over his shoulder with a slap. “I don’t know half of the words you said, but I don’t see why not. It’s almost eleven and those cataracts have been messing with my eyes lately.” Harold smiled at his lie as he watched us find a booth close to the bar.
“You’re the best, my friend.”
Not five minutes later, Harold delivered a wooden board with champagne flutes resting in their cut-out spots. He followed up with three more so each of us had four mimosas to start with. I’m not sure how he knew the severity of need for those acidic beverages, but they were welcomed with open arms.
I downed the first one before my mother could take off her jacket that my father had returned to her. I didn’t even care that I still wore mine.
“Autumn,” she chastised as my sisters giggled, quickly gulping their first glasses as well. Aspen stared on longingly.
“Mr. Shaw, I’ll take a Diet Coke when you get a chance,” Aspen told him.
“Sure. You all need some food to go with those drinks?”
“Absolutely,” I replied as I lifted the stem of my second glass, prepared to send it down the depths of my throat like the previous one. Harold scurried away.
“Slow it down, missy. You don’t want to spend tonight and tomorrow making friends with the toilet, do you?” Alex asked as she shrugged off her jacket and pulled her phone from her bag.
“No, but it gives me something else to think about.”
Smartly, Harold returned with Aspen’s drink and set another flight of mimosas in front of me.
When I cocked my brow at him, he shrugged and replied, “Just heard what happened across the street. Sorry to hear you were outbid. Would have loved to see ya do something with that home. I know your daddy’s happy to have you back, though.”
“How’d you hear already?” my mother asked, aghast at the notion.
“My wife told me. She was at the store and Betsy heard it from Melissa, who heard it from Bob, who was working the registration table.”
“Ugh, the town gossip train,” I grumbled as I slammed my head against the table. It was going to leave a nasty mark, but I didn’t care. Small town chatter was the worst and it spread faster than wildfire in the heat of summer.
Rory’s delicate hand rubbed between my shoulder blades. Usually, the motion would calm me instantly, but not today. I was too wired and angry and disappointed. “I’m sorry, Autumn,” she whispered in my ear, close enough that no one else would hear.
I flipped my head on the table and faced her, doing my best to give her a convincing grin, but I could tell she wasn’t fooled.
A hand slapped down in front of my face and I jumped up to a straight sitting position, nearly knocking heads with Rory in the process.
“Look. We know you’re upset about this. We wanted it for you just as much as you did for yourself. But it’s over and done with. Best case, the winner does nothing with it and the land and house stay untouched. Worst case, he tears it down and builds his dream house on the land. Either way, our family made the mistake a long time ago and we’ve done our best to right that wrong. We lost, and that’s okay. Maybe it was meant to be that way. Maybe that land and the house were meant to be for someone else.”
I heard what she was saying, but it didn’t sit right with me. That house was mine. It had always been mine. It was in my dreams and I swear every time I passed the plot, I felt like the sun shone a little brighter. If the house could actually smile, I felt like it would.
“She’s right, Autumn. As brash as Alexandra can be sometimes, she’s right about the land. We gave it our best shot. Now we can spend this day moping about. Or we can have a few drinks and have a proper girl’s day. You have years of New York City living to catch us up on.”
Mom always had the best way to put a spin on things. Even when it was the most ghastly of things, she knew how to put it in a better light.
Taking a sip from the second mimosa, I asked them if I ever told them about the time I accidentally mistook the doorman for a homeless person.
