Tiddy winces. “Yeah, Alex told me you were upset. That’s when I realized maybe I’d taken it too far.” He tops off my whiskey even though I’ve barely touched it. “I’m sorry. Truly. I didn’t think you’d take it so hard. Most people figure out I’m pulling their leg after about thirty seconds.”
“I was too busy mentally planning my exile from Fork Lick.”
“Which is my fault. I should’ve broken character sooner.” He meets my eyes, and there’s genuine warmth there. “For what it’s worth, the fact that you came back to apologize—knowing you’d have to face me—that says something. Most people would’ve avoided me forever.”
I think about my father. About running. About choosing differently. “I’m trying not to be most people.”
Tiddy nods like he understands more than I’ve said. “So… this marketing plan of yours. You want to tell me about it for real this time? Without me acting like a jackass?”
I laugh—a real one that shakes loose any remaining doubt and tension. “You actually want to hear it?”
“I do. Asher wasn’t wrong; I could use help getting more people through the door, and you seem to know what you’re doing.”
I pull out my phone, then hesitate. “For the record, I’m retiring the slogan.”
“Don’t you dare. That’s going on a t-shirt.” His eyes twinkle. “Grandmother Rose would’ve loved it. She had a filthy sense of humor.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not. Woman could make a sailor blush.” He gestures at my phone. “Come on, then. Show me what you’ve got. And this time I promise not to pretend to be mortally offended.”
I take a breath and start again, differently this time. Instead of launching into my pitch, I ask questions first. “Tell me about the bar. What works, what doesn’t. What do you wish people knew about this place?”
Tiddy’s expression shifts, approval flickering across his weathered face. For the next half hour, he talks and I listen. He tells me about trivia nights that are popular but poorly promoted. About a loyal customer base that’s aging out. About wanting to attract the agritourism crowd without losing the locals who’ve been coming here for decades. “The prizes for trivia are crap,” he admits. “Used to do gift certificates, but it’s not worth the hassle of trying to make them. Now it’s just bragging rights and a free beer.”
“What if the prizes came from local businesses?” The idea forms as I speak. “Cross-promotion. Winners get a basket of Fork Lick goods—strawberry milk from Udderly Creamy, produce from Bedd Fellows, apples from…” I try to remember. “Whoever grows apples around here.”
“That’ll be Sam and Diane. Pink ladies that’ll change your life.”
“Right. And once Pierce Acres is operational, I could contribute. Maple syrup, or…” I think of Eden’s beeswax, the skills I could transplant here. “Maple-scented candles, maybe.”
Tiddy is nodding slowly. “A prize basket showcasing the local economy. That’s not terrible.”
“And for promotion, we don’t need to change who you are. We just need to help people find you.” I show him some mock-ups on my phone. Nothing with slogans—just clean photos of the bar’s character. “People are tired of chains. They want places with history.”
“Sixty-two years of history,” Tiddy says, a note of pride in his voice.
“Exactly. You don’t need to become something new.”
He’s quiet for a moment, studying the mockups. Then he looks at me with an expression I don’t dare to interpret. “You know, when Asher first mentioned you, I figured you’d take some pictures, post some hashtags, move on to the next shiny thing.”
“And now?”
“I think Fork Lick got lucky.” He gestures at the untouched whiskey on the bar. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Eva Storm. For real this time.”
I hold up the shot, feeling pride bloom in my chest. “So we have a deal?”
“We have a deal. But…” He holds up a finger. “The slogan stays. I want it on merch by summer.”
I laugh. “I think I can manage that.”
“Good.” He picks up his rag and starts wiping the bar again, but there’s a smile hiding in his mustache now. “Now get out of here. I’ve got a bar to run, and you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
I down the drink and slide off the barstool, much more confident than before.
20
Asher
