Pepper whined, flopped down on her lap, and covered his eyes with his paws.
“I’m glad you understand,” Bernie said as she carried him into the house, forgetting all about her unopened bottle of tea sitting on the ground beside her chair.
She peeled off her work clothes, shoved them into a hamper, and headed to the shower. But she couldn’t even get that done in peace and quiet that evening. When she went into the bathroom, she found Clara was sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around the toilet, giving back all the whiskey she had drunk that evening. Berniesat down beside her and held her long red hair back. Years ago, Bernie’s hair had been the same color, but now it took a regular visit to the beauty shop and a bottle of light-red copper hair dye.
“I’m sorry.” Clara gagged again. “I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking.”
“I’m not surprised,” Bernie said. “My sister and your mama would probably be in your shape if they even ate a bite of my butter rum cake.”
“Don’t mention food of any kind.” Clara moaned and stood up. “I think it’s all out of my system. Is my room the one with the pink bedspread?”
“Yep, it is,” Bernie answered. “Mine is the one that looks like it came right out of a bordello.”
“I like yours better than mine.” Clara staggered out of the bathroom and headed across the hall.
Bernie watched her hold on to the walls until she reached the room where she would sleep that night. “No wonder Vernie Sue and Marsha are fearful of you not being right with the Lord,” she fussed as she turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. Then she shed her clothing and stepped over the edge of the tub to take a shower.
When she finally got to bed, the ceiling became a movie screen to replay the events of the night. She had figured the Universe would send her a sign when it was time to sell the bar. Now that she had more than one, she wasn’t so sure she was ready to step back and retire.
You are seventy years old,the voice in her head said.You should have sold this place twenty years ago. I’ve sent you three good solid signs. There’s a young, sexy guy who wants to buy your place. You know that he comes from good people. Hoot and Darlene Murphey are the salt of the earth. Then there’s the death of the goldfish and a new dog to tell you that it’s time to put this place in the hands of someone else before you drop dead like that silly goldfish. And a niece who needs a job, so you can make it part of the contract to keep her around to work when you sell the place. What more do you want?
It seemed as if she had just gotten to sleep when Pepper yipped right at her ear. She awoke to find him standing on his hind legs and pawing at the bed with his front paws.
“What do you want?” she asked.
He barked again and ran out of the room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. He growled several times before she reached the door. She cracked it a few inches, sent up a few swear words when the bright sunlight hit her eyes, and even more when she looked at the clock and realized she had only been sleeping four hours. Pepper was a blur when he ran over to her full bottle of tea, hiked his leg on it, and then kicked at the dirt and dried leaves with his back legs.
“That might look like a miniature fire hydrant to you, but from now on, you better get your sorry little self on out into the woods and pick out a tree to take a leak on,” Bernie growled.
She couldn’t remember the last time she was awake so early, and according to the heat flowing in from outside, the day was going to be another scorching one. “Damn dog,” she muttered. “What was Hershal thinking? I don’t like to be up at this time of morning.”
The dog started back toward the porch, but then he saw a squirrel and took off into the wooded area after it.
“You are on your own, Pepper. I’m going back to sleep,” she said and turned around to see Clara standing so close that it startled her.
“Holy hell, girl!” Bernie gasped.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, but do you have some aspirin? My head is splitting,” Clara moaned.
“You need my hangover cure,” Bernie said. “Sit down at the table and I’ll fix it for you.”
She peeled a banana and handed it to Clara. “Eat this first.”
“I can’t,” Clara said. “I’m gagging just looking at it.”
“Yes, youcan, and yes, youwill,” Bernie said in a no-nonsense tone while she rustled around in the cabinet for an individual container of applesauce. “Then you will eat this, and after that a piece of toast with two aspirin and a cup of coffee.”
“Why not just coffee?” Clara shaded her eyes against the sliver of light bouncing off the sugar bowl in the middle of the table and hitting her in the face.
“Because I said so,” Bernie snapped.
Clara took a tiny bite of the banana. “You sound like Grandma.”
“Rule number one…” Bernie shook her forefinger at Clara. “You are never to compare me to my sister. That will get you thrown out, and I won’t even send a cardboard box with you to use as a home under the bridge.”
Clara nodded and took a bigger bite. “How many rules are there?”
“Too many for you to remember with a hangover, but you will learn them as time goes by,” Bernie told her. “For today, just remember the first one.”
