20. Give me Heels over Boots Anyday

twenty

Liz

“Son of a bitch!” I curse out loud as I bump my head. I’ve been cleaning out the ovens at the inn for the past couple of hours, and I’ve smacked my head on them more times than I can count.

When I’m having a shitty day, I typically try to work through it with some rage cleaning. It normally works, but today, I think I’m getting more and more irritated as the day goes on.

I was up half the night thinking about my encounter with Jack. Why does that man have to be so wishy-washy? Just when I think he’s not a colossal asshole, here we are again.

And that kiss…

I honestly thought that anything physical with this man would repulse me. But it seemed to have the exact opposite effect.

I’m sure it’s just because I need to get laid. If Jamie had kissed me, I’m sure I’d feel the same way. And maybe we would have taken it further than just an insignificant peck.

To add insult to injury, the man didn’t even show up to run this morning. I guess after what happened, he’s going to do whatever he can to try to avoid me.

Guess what, buddy?

It’s a small town. I don’t think your plan is going to work for long.

It bums me out because I really did look forward to those runs. It’s not like I have a lot of people I hang out with around here. Having someone I have at least one thing in common with was nice.

But I guess I’m back to square one.

I crawl a little further into the oven to try to get the gunk off the very back. I have no idea when this thing was last cleaned, but by the crap that’s caked on, I’d guess it’s been a while.

As I’m shoulder-deep into the oven, I hear my mother’s voice calling for me. It startles me so hard that I knock my head again.

“Motherfucker!”

As I slowly come out, Mom walks into the kitchen.

“Wow. Is that how you talk to all your guests?”

“You sound like Michelle. But yes,” I joke. “What’s up?”

She holds up two bottles of whiskey. “Michelle forgot to bring these the other day with your other supplies. While doing inventory, it took me forever to figure out why I had two extra bottles of booze. Running a bar means you’re usually short on bottles, not over.”

“Thanks,” I say, rubbing my hand over the knot I can already feel forming on the top of my head. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Coffee if you have it.”

I’ve always considered myself a coffee lover, but my mom ingests the stuff like it’s water. I think most days, she runs on nothing more than caffeine and pure adrenaline.

I hand her a steaming mug and lead her over to one of the small cafe tables.

“I hear you went to Single’s Night,” she says.

“Man, the gossip mill is hard at work once again,” I reply, fixing my own cup.

Even with cream and sugar in mine, I still blow on it, trying to make sure it’s cool enough to sip. Meanwhile, my mother drinks it black, practically gulping it down like it’s not even remotely warm.

“Glad to see you assimilating a little bit. How did it go?”

“Well, I’m still single if that tells you anything.”

Looking at me over the mug, she says, “I hear you were dancing with Jack.”

Is there anything she hasn’t heard?

“I was dancing with Jamie too. Did anyone share that fun fact with you?” I ask.

She raises her eyebrows. “Really? Jamie? I’m pretty sure I have bras older than that boy.”

“Ew,” I groan.

“Although Jamie may be good for some fun, I highly doubt you will find much use for him in the long term.”

“Who says I’m looking for anything long-term?”

“Eliza, you know what I mean.”

No, I really don’t.

She goes on. “I’m just saying that if you were to get with someone and give it an honest try, Jack wouldn’t be a bad one.”

“One, I don’t need you to play matchmaker for me. And two, we are in no way interested in each other. In fact, we drive each other crazy.” I pause for a sip of coffee. “Besides, with the way everyone around town talks about him, I’m sure he has a line of women who are anxious to go home with him. Heck, I saw a couple of them last night—Misty Jacobs being one of them.”

“Oh, there’s nothing going on between Jack and Misty.” She waves her hand as though pushing the ridiculous idea right out of thin air.

“And how exactly would you know that?”

“Eliza, I own a bar. I know everything.”

I stare at her, waiting for her to spill her secrets.

“Let’s just say that Misty went home with Jack once…and she’s been trying for a repeat show ever since. But he doesn’t seem interested. He shoots her down every time.”

“Okay, there’s no way you could know that.”

“I’ve watched her try over and over again while sitting at my bar.”

I think for a second. “I don’t know if I should say good for her or good for him. Jack’s an ass, but I’m not crazy about Misty either.”

“Maybe he’s holding out for something better.” She looks at me as though I’m the something she’s talking about.

“Or maybe you’re insane. Or maybe Misty just isn’t any good at it,” I tell her before changing the subject. “What are you up to tonight? You working?”

“Not tonight. Your dad and I are driving into Portland for the night. Just a little getaway.”

Man, together thirty years, and those two are still crazy about each other. My dad still finds ways to surprise my mom every chance he gets.

“That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, it should be. Hey, while I’m here, I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“Oh?”

“I talked to Esther this morning, and she said that there’s a pretty strong possibility that she’s going to sell the inn.”

“What?”

She taps her fingers on the table in front of her. “I guess she’s not in the best of health, and she’s worried she will eventually end up in a nursing home. She wants to have a nest egg set aside for that so that she doesn’t put the burden on her kids. And the inn isn’t bringing in a ton of money. She’d rather sell now while it still has some value left in it.”

“Wow,” I say, unsure how else I should respond. “Why hasn’t she told me?”

“Nothing is set in stone yet, and she wanted to wait until she made a decision before telling you. She knows you’ve been through a lot.”

I get that Esther’s gesture was supposed to be a kind one, but I can’t help but feel irritated. I finally get halfway settled with a place to stay and a job that is bearable. Turns out it’s going to be ripped away just like my old life was.

How many hits can one person take before they break?

“Are you okay?” Mom asks.

“Yeah, I guess. Just feeling a little defeated.”

“Well, you know you can always come back home and stay if you need to, and the bar is always open for you to work at too.”

“I know,” I reply, hoping that neither one of those is my last resort.

She reaches over, setting her hand on top of mine. “I know it sucks, but remember, you just have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and keep on going.”

“Mom, when will you learn that I would much rather wear heels than boots?” I joke.

“I don’t know that heels are going to protect your feet from horse poop.”

“Okay, this metaphor has taken a very weird turn.”

She laughs. “It sure has. All I’m trying to say is keep on going. If I gave up every single time I’ve wanted to, I wouldn’t be anywhere right now.”

The difference is that my mom has always had Dad in her corner, supporting her and cheering her on. And she’s always done the same for him. They are a true team.

The last time I thought I was part of a team, I lost hundreds of thousands of dollars and practically everything I owned.

I don’t think our situations are the same.

“Well, I better get back to the bar,” she says before swigging the last of her coffee. “I have a few things to do before your dad and I leave.”

I stand up and take our cups to the sink before walking her to the front door.

“If you’re not busy tonight, you could always come by the bar. Tonight, it’s ladies drink for half price.”

“Uh, okay, I’ll think about it.”

We say our goodbyes, and she’s out the door in a blur. I swear the woman moves as though she’s running away from something.

I get back to cleaning, but it’s doing nothing for the anger I feel inside me.

First, Jack.

Then, Esther wanting to sell this place.

Not to mention the fact that my head is still throbbing from knocking it on the oven time after time. With every passing minute, I can feel my blood pressure rising.

Finally, I’ve had enough. I walk out of the kitchen and over to the guest book to see if we have anyone checking in tonight.

Of course not.

I know that the night manager will be here in case there are any stragglers, so I shouldn’t have to worry about that.

Maybe I could use a drink to try to help take the edge off. I could go upstairs to my room and drown in a bottle of whiskey, but where’s the fun in that? Maybe some fresh air will do me some good.

Or maybe not.

But it’s worth a shot.

What’s the harm in having one drink?

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