‘I can help.’ Bonnie tied off her braid with the pink elastic that lived around her wrist. ‘The bar’s been doing well recently.’
Effie balked.Bonnie, helping? Everything Effie knew about the universe was upended at the very thought. Bonnie wasn’t a helper. She wasn’t the financially secure one. She was the unpredictable one whose antics required endless mitigation and apology notes and ‘please forgive us’ baked-goods hampers.
If Bonnie was able to step up and do her part financially, then what exactly was Effie’s role these days?
‘Are you sure? Shouldn’t you build an emergency fund?’
Bonnie looked amused. ‘I think this would count as an emergency. Just encourage your library people to come by the bar and we’ll call it even. Besides, I have a...’
She trailed off, probably because she’d been about to say something rude about the library patrons.
Effie regarded her sister, struggling with something somewhere in between pride and envy. ShewantedBonnie to do well, after all. Didn’t she?
‘Thanks, Bon,’ she managed eventually.
‘Don’t mention it,’ said Bonnie with a casual shrug that sent her dressing gown sliding off her shoulder. Bobby avertedhis eyes – but there was a twinkle in Bonnie’s that said she wasquitepleased with herself indeed.
Bonnie Chalmers, entrepreneur extraordinaire. She could add it to all the other ribbons that dangled from the display case in her room.
Chapter 22
EVERY LITTLE THING SHE DOES IS MAGIC
Bonnie
Bonnie arrived at The Silver Slipper feeling like an 80s business mogul. In honour of the occasion, she was even wearing a pair of colour-block heels that Mom had nabbed from their gran’s wardrobe years back. ‘You look, um, professional,’ Effie had told her.
She’d never before been able to volunteer to help out with a bill, especially one bigger than a split meal or a coffee order. All right, she couldn’tcompletelycover it, but she knew she was on track to get there just so long as the numbers for this week stayed where they were. And it had been more of a pride thing, really. She’d seen that look in Effie’s eyes, the tired, motherly one that she always affected when it came to day-to-day life stuff, as if she hadn’t taken it upon herself to claim the mantle of Queen of the Domestic Realm. That judgemental look that assumed Bonnie would beg Effie to cover the expense. Those days were over, thanks to her arrangement with Uncle Oswald.
All right, so Uncle Oswald wasn’t her favourite human, and the items he stocked in his shop were all flimflam (a word Effie overused when she’d gone through her hardboiled crime paperback phase, and which Bonnie found hilarious to parrot). And he still made her feel queasy whenever he was around. But there was no denying that their arrangement had single-handedly changed Bonnie’s fortunes. So much so thatnot only was she ahead on payments for the Cadillac, but she could finally afford to hire some extra help behind the bar. Someone who wasn’t Bobby or one of her entourage, who were becoming increasingly flaky (Hannah), increasingly bitchy (Kirsty) and increasingly absent (Alana).
Obviously, Bonnie would have to be the one who remained in charge of the specialty drinks, but an extra set of hands would free her up to focus on planning the events the bar needed to become sustainable in the long term. And give her more time to finish renovating the upstairs apartment so she had an option to move out of the Chalmers residence, away from the stifling memories of Mom and the endless pressure and judgement from Effie. Besides, she was spending so much time at the bar these days that the idea of being just a few steps from her bed appealed enormously.
Bonnie pulled up a shortlist of résumés on her phone. They’d come in from all over the place via email, text, Instagram messages, scrawled notes on napkins. Bonnie didn’t mind so much, as it wasn’t like bartender was a gig that needed a standard CV. She didn’t even have one of her own. Her social media pages and the online reviews of her bar were résumé enough. And she had her reputation, which was all the calling card you needed in this town. Well, assuming you had a reputation like Bonnie’s.
She scrolled through the selfies and copy and pasted bulleted text, looking for someone who might be a good fit. Hmm. Sara Settimana, current poli-science major and pole-vaulting champ. She’d probably be good for reaching things off the top shelves, but Bonnie could imagine some heated discussions between Sara and the darts-playing gents, who hadopinionsabout things. Then there was Lily Nakamura, who was currently one of the baristas at The Winged Monkey, and who famously got everyone’s orders wrong. People tolerated it because Lily was adorable, but Bonnie probably didn’t need to add extra chaos to her business right now. What aboutClark Grenier? He was a PhD at the college, and with those dark eyes and stubble, he wouldn’t be a bad asset to have behind the bar. He’d attract a whole new cohort of patrons,andhe’d give Bonnie something to look at. Besides, with the whole Bobby and Kirsty situation, Bonnie felt she needed to up her game to stay competitive.
She considered texting, but decided to do right by her new entrepreneurial identity and make an actual phone call.
To her surprise, Clark picked up.
‘Hey, Clark? This is Bonnie from The Silver Slipper. How’d you like to come in for an interview?’
Clark’s voice was slightly gruff, but with a mirthful undertone that she liked, and he agreed to come down after his next class. Maybe this could work.
While she waited for Clark to arrive, Bonnie busied herself preparing the bar for midday opening. Much of this prep work now involved making room for the pre-made Memory Lane concentrate used in the new cocktail series. She hadn’t seen people get so excited over a drink since kombucha had first hit the market. Bonnie banged around in the cabinets, trying to find more space for the concentrate. She liked to minimize storeroom runs during opening hours, but soon they’d be unavoidable. Unless she expanded the bar area. It was times like this she missed Bobby’s easy presence – he had such a good eye for design, and hegotwhat Bonnie was trying to express, even if she wasn’t so sure. They’d always been on a very similar wavelength, even though they were so different.
There was a knock at the door, and Bonnie jumped up, almost smacking her head on the bar counter. Her heart sank slightly as she saw it wasn’t Bobby, but immediately perked up when she realized it was someone just as welcome: Sabine.
‘Bonnie,’ Sabine breathed, in that zen, hippie tone that even Alana hadn’t mastered. If you were looking for an individualwith their chakras aligned and their energies balanced, it was Sabine.
‘Sabine!’ Bonnie drew her in for a hug. ‘I’m so glad you came by.’
‘I’m afraid I’m here as the Toto Hotel’s sole ambassador. Maureen had good intentions, but we’ve had a wedding party making our lives miserable for the past few days. She sends her love.’
Sabine spun a slow circle, making appreciative noises as she took in the bar that Bonnie had worked so hard to bring to life.
‘There’s an upstairs as well,’ said Bonnie, feeling suddenly shy. She was so proud of the bar, and part of her worried that Sabine’s practised eye would find it lacking in some way.
