“And that makes you all grumpy?” Bernie was more than a little disappointed that her matchmaking wasn’t going to be a smooth ride.
Clara was quiet for several moments before she spoke. “Yes, it does. It’s like having one of those maple-sugar-topped doughnuts laid out in front of me and being told that I can’t even smell it, much less take a bite.”
“I’ve walked a mile in your shoes a few times,” Bernie said with a smile. “But what if Nash is the one?”
“How would I know that after less than a week?” Clara asked.
“My advice to you is to listen to your heart, not your mind, but don’t get in a rush.” Bernie wasn’t happy that the Universe decided to put her first-ever attempt at matchmaking in jeopardy. She had read somewhere that most couples didn’t meet, sit down on a blanket under a shade tree, and fall in love. No, sir! They had to overcome all kinds of obstacles, but Mama Fate could have been nicer to Bernie since this was her virgin cruise in the new field of happy-ever-after business. It didn’t have to put her first couple on a high limb in that big, old scrub oak tree and lob rocks at them.
Clara finally ended another long moment of silence. “That sounds like a line from one of Aunt Mary Jane’s books.”
“It probably is, but it doesn’t make it any less real,” Bernie said. “I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. At least now that the new laws have passed, the smoke doesn’t hover around the ceiling like dark clouds. I used to have to come home every night after closing and wash that smell out of my hair.”
Clara took a couple of long drinks from her beer. “Any form of tobacco was outlawed before I even started bartending,” she said and then groaned, “Why couldn’t you have found an ugly bartender?”
“That was an abrupt change of subject.” Bernie chuckled. “If you will remember, I didn’t find Nash. He found me, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to sell to him. But the way you are feeling, it might be best if you go to Texas with me, rather than staying here.”
“Maybe so,” Clara agreed and stood up. “But tonight I have decided to not think about Nash anymore.”
“Take your empty beer bottle with you and put it in the recycle bin,” Bernie told her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Sweet dreams. Maybe they’ll even be about Nash and help you decide whether to stay and fight or to take flight and go with me to the Paradise.”
“I hope I don’t dream at all. I need a rest from all things that involve decisions.” She stopped and sat back down. “Before I go, tell me about you and Hershal. He thought you were in love with him and even risked going to jail for stealing for you. What’s the story?”
“It’s a short one,” Bernie answered. “We were in our early forties, and he was a regular at the bar. We flirted. We slept together. I went on one short truck run with him that lasted from Saturday night after work until about noon on Monday. He wasn’t the only one in my life back then, and I had no idea that all these years later he would even remember my comment about that little dog we saw on the trip. He still came into the bar occasionally, but the fire had gone out in our little romance. The end.”
“Been there. Done that. Have the memories to prove it.” Clara stood back up. “I’m going to take a quick shower after you’re done so I don’t get the bedsheets all sweaty. Good night, Aunt Bernie.”
“Good night, my child,” Bernie said.
Chapter 7
The aroma of bacon drifting down the short hallway and into her bedroom awoke Clara the next morning. She inhaled several times before she opened her eyes to be sure that she wasn’t dreaming. She threw back the covers and padded barefoot to the kitchen.
Bernie handed her a mug of steaming-hot coffee and motioned toward the table. “Want your eggs fried or scrambled?”
“Scrambled is good,” Clara said. “You didn’t have to make breakfast for me. What can I do to help?”
Bernie cracked half a dozen eggs into a bowl. “It don’t take any more time to cook for two than for one. Besides, I had an ulterior motive. I wanted you to wake up and go with me to Duncan today, and I figured the aroma of coffee and bacon would wake you up. You can help by staying out of my way. Sit down and have a few sips of coffee to get your eyes open.”
“So, you are serious about looking at a trailer today?”
“I am. The folks that have the place told me that it belonged to their parents who seldom used it. The oldfolks are in a nursing home now, and they are cleaning out the house and garage. It should be in good shape and will be cheaper than buying a brand-new one.”
Clara obeyed Bernie’s order and sat down at the table. She usually just had a bowl of cereal or a piece of toast for breakfast. A full meal was a luxury that she couldn’t afford except on payday, when she treated herself to the special at a local diner—two eggs, two pieces of bacon, and a biscuit with gravy. “All you had to do was knock on my door, or even yell my name down the hall, and I would have been here as fast as I could get awake.”
“You would have been in a horrible mood all day if I disturbed a sexy dream about Nash.” Bernie chuckled. “But if you woke up from a dream that he was making you breakfast after a night of wild passionate sex, that would put a smile on your face and make you subconsciously happy all day.”
“How did you get so smart?” Clara wasn’t about to admit that she had been dreaming about Nash. She was still in shock that her aunt took her in so quickly, gave her a job, and seemed glad to have her live in the same apartment, but some things were personal and best kept hidden away close to the vest, so to speak.
Bernie loaded two plates, brought them to the table, and took a seat across the table from Clara. “I don’t consider myself smart. I got through high school by the skin of my teeth. If I have any intelligence at it, I got it by tending bar since long before you were born. If you listento people’s problems and stories that long, you’ll be able to read folks, too.”
Clara picked up her fork and tried to concentrate on her food, but it didn’t work. She kept mulling over what Bernie had said about Nash taking over her dreams. Did Bernie have the magical ability to walk right into Clara’s fantasies about a man that she could never have? A shut bedroom door meant that someone should at least knock—even in a dream.
“When you worked with Kent, what was your…” Bernie took a sip of coffee and frowned. “I’m trying to think of what you kids say today, but it’s not coming to my mind.”
