“Temporarily,” the man replies.
“How long?”
The man shrugs.
“Hard to say.”
His smile widens slightly.
“These things take time.”
Time.
The word lands like a weapon.
77
Saint
The Magnolia Ladies arrive ten minutes later.
Like a cavalry charge in orthopedic shoes.
Mable.
Ethel.
June.
And three others I don’t know by name but definitely know by reputation.
They march into the tavern like they own the place.
Which, honestly, they kind of do.
“What do you mean you’re closing this place?” Mable demands.
The man in the suit straightens his tie.
“Ma’am, this is a regulatory matter—”
“Oh hush,” Ethel snaps.
“I’ve been regulated longer than you’ve been alive.”
They swarm the inspectors.
Not touching.
Just… talking.
Loudly.
Relentlessly.
June pulls out her phone and starts recording.
“Now say that again for the camera, sugar.”
