“Okay, who wants to go first tonight?” Bernie lit up the remains of the last half of her cigar, crooked her finger around it, and took a long puff.
“I believe it’s your turn,” Clara told her. “We kind of hit on our stories after you went inside last week.”
“All right, then, you pretty well know all that I’m willing to tell you about my life, so I’ll just get right to it,” Bernie said. “It hasn’t been the full six weeks, Nash, but I can see that you love this place as much as I do, so I’m ready to sell it to you. The lawyer has the papers drawn up, and if all parties are willing for the conditions, we will sign them Monday morning at ten o’clock right here at the Chicken Coop. Everything will be transferred at the signing. Insurance on the place is paid up until January first of next year, and that will be included in the sale.”
“Fantastic,” Nash said. “I’ll be here with my checkbook.”
“Not so quick!” Bernie said sternly. “I said we would make the transfer if all parties were willing for the conditions, and you didn’t even ask me how much I wanted for the building, land, and business.”
“I don’t care about the cost. If I don’t have enough in my savings account, Grandpa said he would come in as a silent partner,” Nash told her.
“I don’t think he’ll have to do that, because I’m only going to sell you half the place,” Bernie said.
Clara’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean you are going to stick around and still own the other half?”
“Sorry to disappoint, darlin’ girl,” Bernie said with a smile. “No, I’m retiring and leaving Monday afternoon if this works for you kids, right after we make a trip to the tag agency and put my old truck in your name. I’m giving you the other half, Clara. You and Nash are going to be full partners in this business. You have proven your worth these past weeks, and I can see that you are happy.”
“I love that idea,” Nash said.
“But…you’ve done so much… Why…” Clara stammered and then started weeping. “It’s too much, Aunt Bernie.”
“Dry up those tears and just say thank you,” Bernie said and blew out a whole string of smoke rings. “My favorite nieces would inherit what I leave behind anyway. This way you just get it before I’m dead instead of having to wait. I don’t want you to ever feel like you are less than anyone on the face of this earth again.”
Clara swiped the tears away with the back of her hand. “Then thank you. You were right when you said that the toughest pathway often leads us to the place that will be our biggest joy. Maybe not in those exact words, but that’s what I got from it.”
“Good enough,” Bernie said. “Now that is decided, we can get on with our whiskey and cigars.”
“You could stick around until the full six weeks is up,” Nash suggested.
“Y’all have proven that you can run this place, and now that I’ve made up my mind, I’m ready to go. I’llalways remember the Chicken Coop, but I’ve only got so many years left and a lot to get accomplished in whatever days the good Lord sees fit to leave me here,” Bernie told them. “Before that signing process, Clara and I will be at the tag agency when it opens so that we can get my old truck signed over to her. After we make the transfer, I’m going to wave goodbye and head to Texas. Seems only fitting that I was born and raised up in Spanish Fort, and I’ll be going back there to finish out my life. But what was in the middle, that part from womb to tomb, is where all my good memories are stored. I’m hoping that y’all are always as happy as you are now, and as I have been while I’ve been here.”
Nash reached across the distance and took Clara’s hand in his. “Down deep in my heart, I feel like we will be, and thank you for doing this.”
“You are both welcome. I’m going inside now, and I will be ready for church services in the morning when you come by for Clara. Seems only fitting that I tell the friends I have there a proper goodbye.”
“Will you go to dinner with us?” Nash asked.
“I’d be glad to, but I do not want any special treatment. No happy retirement parties or tears when I leave. Let’s all just put on our best smiles and wave as I drive away. You’ll open up the bar, and I’ll be at the Paradise when evening comes. Unless”—she chuckled—“you have plans to move into the apartment all afternoon and enjoy a little time alone behind closed doors?”
“Aunt Bernie!” Clara’s eyes widened out the size of saucers.
“Don’t tell me you both didn’t already think of that,” she scolded. “On that note, I bid you both a good night. I need my beauty sleep if I’m going to be ready for church.”
“Good night.” Clara let go of Nash’s hand, stood up, and wrapped her arms around Bernie in a fierce hug. “You are an angel,” she whispered softly.
“Not yet, darlin’, but I hope that when I draw my last breath, the good Lord sees fit to give me wings to fly,” Bernie said around the lump in her throat.
Chapter 17
Papers were all signed, and all that was left for Bernie to do at noon was get into her new truck and start driving toward Spanish Fort. The kids stayed true to her wishes and stood at the door of the Chicken Coop and waved until she made the corner and couldn’t see them anymore. That’s when the waterworks let go and she began to weep so hard that she pulled over on the side of the road a few miles out of town and let it all loose. Pepper hopped up on the console, put his little paws on her shoulder, and licked the tears from her face. Half a box of tissues later, she took a deep breath, put the truck in drive, and set her face like flint.
“You are a good friend, Pepper, but now I’ve had my fifteen minutes of whining, and it’s over. I had many good years in the Chicken Coop, and I know it’s time to pass the bar on to those kids who already love it as much as I do.” She hiccupped a couple of times, took a sip of her lukewarm coffee, and inhaled deeply. “If we ain’t movin’, we’re standing still, and old age grows on those folks who come to a screeching halt.”
Pepper yipped once, lay back down on the passenger’s seat, and closed his eyes.
“I’ll take that as a yes, you are in agreement with me.” She put the truck in gear and pulled back out onto the highway. When she crossed the Highway 70 junction, she was berating herself for not letting Nash and Clara give her a going-away party.
“I love parties, and I could have dressed up,” she muttered. “I could have worn different pieces from all my costumes. The pants from Labor Day, the top from Easter, and maybe the hat from Veterans Day to celebrate all the years I owned the Chicken Coop, but oh no! I had to be all brave and tell them not to make a fuss.”
