Despite everything, I laugh. “He is. But he’s not a bad person. He just lives in a very different world.”
“And honey,” Dolly says softly, “which world do you want to live in?”
That’s the question I’ve been avoiding since I got here. The question I’m still not ready to answer.
“I should get back to work,” I say instead.
Dolly lets me off the hook with a nod, but her words follow me all the way back to the office.
That evening, the bar is packed. There’s a group celebrating a birthday, a few couples on dates, and the regulars who treat this place like their second living room. I’m starting to recognize faces, remember names, and understand the rhythms of the space. Presley’s working the floor with me, teaching me her system for remembering orders without writing them down. I’m terrible at it, but she’s patient with me.
“Table six wants another round,” she tells me. “Two Bud Lights, one Michelob Ultra, and a Coke. Table eight needs fresh napkins. Boone just came in. He always sits at the end of the bar and drinks Yuengling before his shift.”
I glance over, and sure enough, Boone is settling onto his usual stool. Wyatt is already putting his beer in front of him before he even asks for it.
“How does everyone know what everyone drinks?” I ask, feeling overwhelmed.
“You just pay attention,” Presley says, smiling. “Give it time. You’ll get there.”
I’m not sure I will get there, but I appreciate that she has confidence in me.
I deliver the round to table six, only messing up once and having to come back for the Coke I forgot. I bring napkins to table eight, then drift toward the bar, where Boone and Wyatt are talking.
“Eleanor,” Boone greets me warmly. “Heard you held your own with the beer distributor today. Dolly said you asked some good questions.”
“Yeah, I asked a lot of questions because I’m lost. I’m not sure how good they were.”
“Well, questions are how you learn.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Settling in okay?”
“I think so. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Well, Mavis would be glad to see you here. She always said the place needed some fresh eyes.”
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of drink orders, small talk, and learning how to run the credit card machine without Dolly helping me. By the time we close at midnight, my feet are aching, and I smell like a combination of beer and barbecue sauce, but I feel good. Tired, but good.
Dolly leaves with a wave and says, “See you tomorrow, sugar.”
Presley leaves with a group of friends who are going to the Waffle House.
And then it’s just me and Wyatt, closing up the bar like we’ve done every night this week.
There’s a routine to it now that feels comfortable. He counts the register, and I wipe down the tables. I sweep while he locks up the cooler. We move around each other in an easy rhythm that shouldn’t feel as natural as it does.
“Eleanor,” he says as I’m putting away the broom.
I turn to find him standing by the back door, keys in his hand. “Yeah?”
He seems to be struggling with something, like he’s choosing his words carefully.
“Earlier, when I heard that phone call, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I heard just enough to know that someone was trying to convince you to leave and sell this place.”
“Archie doesn’t understand what this place means to people.”
“Do you?”
The question isn’t accusatory. It seems genuine.
“I think I’m starting to,” I say. “I mean, I’m starting to understand a lot of things.”
