“Of course.”
“What do you think of Copper Creek so far?”
The question catches me off guard. Everyone stops talking and is looking at me, waiting for an answer.
“Well, it’s definitely different than anywhere I’ve been before, but I like it. The people have been very nice to me.”
“Your great-aunt was a smart woman,” Boone says. “She knew what she was doing when she left you this place.”
“Did you know her well?”
“Well enough. She was a straight shooter, didn’t suffer fools, and worked harder than anyone I ever met. But she also knew how to have fun. That was what she was best at. She knew how to make people feel welcome. And she knew the bar isn’t just about the drinks; it’s about the community.”
He takes a sip of his sweet tea.
“And she saw something in you, Eleanor. Something worth investing in. And Mavis didn’t invest in people she didn’t believe in.”
“I’m not sure I’ve lived up to that yet.”
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? That’s a start.”
The conversation drifts to other topics. Town gossip, upcoming events, somebody’s daughter who just had a baby, and has big ears, apparently. I mostly listen, soaking up the warmth of community and the easy way these people just exist together.
At one point, Dolly shares a story about her first marriage, how she left an abusive situation with nothing but a suitcase and $37.
“Came to Copper Creek because it was where the bus stopped when I ran out of money,” she says. “Thought I’d stay a few days, figure out my next move. Well, that was over thirty years ago.”
“What made you stay?” I ask.
“People gave me a chance when I didn’t deserve one. Mavis hired me, even though I had no experience. Gave me a place to live when I didn’t have anywhere to go. This town saved my life.” She looks at me directly. “Sometimes you’re meant to be in a place you hadn’t planned on. Sometimes it’s just the place where people see you for who you are and decide that’s enough.”
The words settle over me like a blanket.
Presley shares next, talking about her mother’s addiction, about being raised by her grandmother, and the constant fear that her mom would show up and disrupt her life.
“My grandmother died two years ago,” she says quietly. “And I thought about leaving. Maybe I’d go to Nashville and try to make it as a singer. But this town, well, the people here are my family. Blood doesn’t always make a family. Sometimes family is just who shows up.”
By the time we finish eating, I’ve heard at least a dozen stories of heartbreak and resilience. People who came to Copper Creek lost and then found themselves here.
It’s like the town is a magnet for broken people, and somehow, by being broken together, everyone becomes whole.
I think about my own brokenness, about the mother I could never please and the fiancé I never really loved, and the life I was living that felt like a performance.
And maybe Copper Creek is exactly where I needed to be.
CHAPTER 11
The afternoon passes quickly. We tackle the rest of Gloria’s list with methodical efficiency. The storage area gets completely reorganized. The soap dispensers are filled to the brim. The kitchen gets a deep clean, and someone even washes all the windows inside and out until they sparkle like brand new.
A man named Rick, who apparently knows his way around HVAC systems, takes a look at the cooler and decides that it just needs a new compressor and some refrigerant.
“I can do it for parts. Costs probably run you about $1,500 instead of three grand. I’ll come by tomorrow.”
$1,500 instead of $3,500. I could cry with relief.
By five o’clock, we’re done, and the bar looks better than since I arrived, maybe better than it has looked in years.
“We did it,” I say, looking around in wonder.
