Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SOPHIE
Hannah texts me in our group chat an hour into my shift:
HOLY CRAP. YOUR FAKE-LATIONSHIP IS FACEBOOK OFFICIAL. HAS MAMA PRICE PUBLICLY SHAMED YOU AND STRICKEN YOU FROM HER FEED YET?
Patricia Price doesn’t need to, because I already unfriended her. Actually, I’d also unfriended Jonah, so it’s very possible neither of them will see that I’ve changed my relationship status to “in a relationship” and posted the photo with Rob.
I say as much, and Briar responds:
Yes, but Rob is probably still connected to them.
That makes the guilt return.
Then again, it’s always there, an ocean with waves rolling in and out.
Playing idly with the corsage on my wrist, I take down the photo and the relationship status. No one asks about the corsage, although plenty of people take notice of it.
I don’t check my phone again until after I’d poured maybe a dozen beers. And I find a message waiting from Rob.
Is this your way of dumping your fake boyfriend, Soph? I expected at least a Post-it note. Or my good-luck pick bounced off my face into a cup of NA beer.
Smiling to myself, I type back:
I had second thoughts. We don’t need to be social media official for the caseworker to buy our relationship, and I don’t want to cause more trouble for you. Maybe it’s better not to rub Jonah’s and Patricia’s faces in it.
Ah, but I’d like to. And we both look really, really good in that photo. Isn’t that what social media is for? Bragging to strangers and getting them to gossip about you?
Has anyone asked about the corsage?
No. But there have been plenty of curious glances. They probably think I’m making a fashion statement.
I’m about to perform at One World Brewery with my boutonniere on. Wish me luck.
I pour some more drinks and practice making one of my NA recipes in a delicious pocket of downtime, nestled into the afternoon like a chocolate chip in a cookie. When I check my phone again, there’s an alert on my phone.
Rob Price wants to be in an “It’s complicated” relationship with you. Accept?
My heart thumps as I press accept. Then I click through to Rob’s page and read the comments beneath the photo. There’s one from Travis—moony heart eyes—and another from someone I don’t know.
Whoa. Isn’t that your brother’s fiancée, Sonya?
Rob’s already responded— That’s Sophie to you. And she WAS my brother’s fiancée. She’s my girlfriend. I’m one lucky man.
My heart is racing now. Obviously, he’s just doing it to get a rise out of people. Rob wants to upset his brother and Patricia. He’s said so. And I can’t deny I take satisfaction from the thought too. But it still makes me anxious. It feels like he’s taking a stand for me , and it might cause trouble for him.
I promise myself we’ll talk about it later. I’ll convince him to back down if necessary.
I tuck away my phone again, promising myself I won’t keep checking it for my whole shift. It’s just…
I feel myself slipping into deeper waters than I expected with Rob. He’s so thoughtful and funny and deep, and every moment we’ve spent together has embedded itself in my memory. I know he’s been having fun, too, but it’s possible our new friendship-with-benefits means less to him. Maybe even very little.
I don’t want to believe that, but the anxious thought keeps pestering me, like a mosquito with a taste for my blood.
About an hour before my shift ends, Dottie Hendrickson sweeps in, dressed in an adorable summer dress covered in smiling cups of tea. I know why she’s here—or at least I think I do—but I’m still happy to see her. Dottie always lifts my mood simply by being herself. By being kind .
She greets half a dozen people by name before reaching the bar. She sets a zippered case down in front of her. “My dear girl,” she says with a broad smile. “What a beautiful corsage. Did you make it yourself?”
“How could you tell?” I ask wryly.
“Those flowers are such a wonderful choice.” She studies my corsage with much more attention than it deserves. “Honeysuckle for devoted affection and a red camellia…very sensual. I couldn’t be happier for you, my girl.”
I smile, because of course she’s the only person to actually address the silly corsage. But she didn’t stop there. She made it feel like something beautiful.
I adore her. Blindly. Truly. I would follow her into a lion’s den. “Why are you happy for me, exactly?”
A dumb question, but I’d rather hear what she already knows before giving her more information.
“My dear man saw you and our mutual friend together yesterday evening, of course. And then I saw that lovely photo you posted. I can’t tell you how pleased I am for you young people. Why, the very first time I saw you together, I could tell there was something special brewing between you.”
I give her a disbelieving look. “Dottie, the first time you saw us together was the day I found out Jonah was cheating on me.”
“And the sparks were already there,” she says in a knowing tone. “Two more beautiful auras, I never saw. And your star signs are in gorgeous alignment.”
“You know when my birthday is?” I ask, surprised. I’ve never told her.
She looks almost offended. “Of course, my dear. I marked it down in my calendar last year. I mark down all of my young people’s birthdays.”
Emotion clogs my throat. “I don’t know when your birthday is.”
“And you needn’t,” she says. “I stopped counting at eighty. But let’s not get off topic.” She clasps her hands against her chest. “Pisces and Cancer are a lovely match. Very compatible.”
I tilt my head. I’m a Pisces, which means Rob must be a Cancer. I have no idea how Dottie would have come by that information—Rob doesn’t strike me as someone who’d give out his birthday—but I don’t doubt her. “Cancer. That ends in July, right? So it must be coming up soon.”
“Indeed, my dear. His birthday is coming up in a few weeks.” She rattles off the date. “He didn’t mention it to you?”
No, in fact. I shouldn’t be surprised by that. Rob doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d make a big deal out of his birthday. But it does make me feel a little twist of sadness.
She clucks her tongue. “He wouldn’t, would he? Our boy is surprisingly reticent for the lead singer of a band. It’s as if all the ego went to his brother. Still, I do hope Jonah has been stroking his stone. It should help expel some negative energy.”
I smile, thinking about how Hannah would react to that statement. “Yeah, I’m sorry, but I don’t see him doing that.”
“Me neither,” she says, her tone mournful. “But all we can do is present a person with opportunities to be better, my dear. We can’t do the work for them.”
It has the weight of truth to it, and we both let the words sit between us for a moment before she pushes the zippered case toward me. “I’ve brought you a little gift. For the rest of your shift, we’re going to work magic together.”
I smile at her. “I have to work, Dottie. I’ve already been distracted.”
“Oh, don’t worry one bit. I’ve cleared it with Dylan already. We’re going to practice some alchemy and make your new drink menu even better.”
That sounds fun and creative, and I’d very much like to do it. But I’ve dawdled too much as it is, checking my phone multiple times during my shift. I purse my lips, debating what to do.
“Just a second,” I say, and walk over to the curve in the L-shaped bar so I can catch Dylan’s eye. He glances over, taking notice instantly, and walks toward me.
“Are you really okay with me spending the rest of my shift mixing drinks with Dottie?” I swallow nervously. “I feel like I’ve already created so much fuss…” I trail off in response to the severe expression on his face.
“I want you to mix drinks with Dottie because the owners and I think the NA menu is a great idea that will make everyone money. This isn’t me cutting you a break, Sophie. But even if I were, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that. We like having you around here, for as long as you’d like to be part of the team.”
They want me here. They like what I’m doing. They think it has worth…
“Thank you, Dylan,” I say, my voice slightly wobbly.
He gives me an awkward nod, probably noticing that I’m on edge. “Thank you . And have fun. I figured you could practice at the staff bar.”
Based on what I’ve heard from Hannah and Briar, the fully stocked staff bar in the back might be a purely Buchanan Brewery phenomenon. Briar says it’s one of the things her father, who is allergic to fun, hates most about Buchanan Brewery. Dottie and Beau Buchanan used to throw the most memorable staff parties when they were a couple. Beau passed away years ago, and Dottie doesn’t technically work at the brewery anymore, but their grandchildren have carried on the tradition.
I convey the information to Dottie, and she slings the bag over her arm and heads into the back with me. It turns out she’s brought several varieties of iced tea from her signature blends at Tea of Fortune, and we have a lovely time creating together. Including naming all of the drinks.
I feel the lovely itch to do more of this. To make something.
Before I know it, my shift is over.
“Go on home, my dear,” Dottie says, her eyes shining. “I feel impassioned by our work, don’t you? Perhaps you should invite your young man over.”
I consider it and find I would like to share this with him, to make him a Man About Town and watch him while he drinks it. To ask him for his help conceptualizing and naming new drinks.
But he’s not really your boyfriend, a voice in my head whispers. It’s mostly pretend.
“We’ll see,” I say with a forced smile.
Dottie notices, of course.
“You will see,” she says, patting my face gently. “It’ll all work out, better than you’d thought possible.”
I reach into the pocket of my sundress for the little guitar pick, running my finger over it, and for a moment I let myself believe her.
When I get home, Otis is sitting on the couch with a beer and, thankfully, no pseudo-pornography on the television. He perks up when he sees me. “You’re home.”
“Did you catch the pigeon?”
He sighs and slumps a little more. “No. But I staked her out for an hour and a half in an oak tree. Then she followed me halfway to the house, and I felt sure I had her. She swooped down to grab one of the treats, but as soon as I tried to grab her, she shot up into the air and pooped on my head.”
I smile at his damp hair. So that’s what it takes to get him to shower regularly. “Sorry, but they say a bird pooping on your head is good luck.”
More knowledge I’ve tucked away about luck.
“It didn’t make me feel very lucky.” He pauses, surveying me with a glum look on his face. “There’s something I’m not sure if I should tell you.”
“You’ve already gotten halfway there,” I say, feeling a twinge of unease. “Might as well pull off the rest of the Band-Aid.”
“When I got home, there was a big box on the doorstep. It looks like your stuff, but there was also a boom box in there. I think maybe we could sell that to a nostalgic boomer on eBay.”
My mind skips backward to Jonah bringing a boom box to the brewery. I clear my throat. “Was there a note?”
“It was five pages long. I…” He glances sheepishly into the kitchen. “I kind of…threw it away.”
“You threw it away?”
“Jonah said a lot of mean stuff and accused you of being the cheater, and I figured you didn’t need to read that, Soph. So, yeah, I threw it away.”
I pause, trying to process that, and then nod. “Thank you.”
“But I figured you might want to go through the box by yourself. There’s, like, an old toothbrush and a few paperbacks, some clothes.” He blushes. “Uh…like underwear. Stuff like that.”
“ Oh. ”
“So…I brought it up to your room.”
The thought of going through those things alone sucks, but maybe I can get Hannah and Briar to sift through them with me in a few days. Or I can dump the whole thing out.
“Want me to set it on fire?” he asks. I flinch, and he swears.
“Sorry, Soph. Bad choice of words. I didn’t mean?—”
“Thanks, Otis. You definitely deserve that beer. Or…” I pause. “I have something better in mind.”
“Better than beer ?”
I grin at him. “Yes.”
Dottie supplied me with some of the iced teas from her case, and I take them into the kitchen to mix him one of our specials.
I tell him all about my experiment with Dottie before he takes his first sip.
He puffs his lips out, looking thoughtful. “Don’t take this the wrong way.” He proceeds to pour some vodka from the top of the fridge into his cup. I’ve tried to convince my great-aunt not to store her spirits up there, but it’s impossible to tell Great-Aunt Penny anything she doesn’t want to hear.
He sips it again and nods to himself. “That’s the stuff.”
“You had something you wanted to tell me?” I ask.
“Yeah, let’s sit down.”
I eye the kitchen table. There are still stalks and leaves and flower petals all over it, but Otis hasn’t commented on the mess. I sweep it up and throw it in the trash, then lower into the chair. Yes, the chair.
I did clean it right before I left the house, with bleach wipes from under the sink, but it still feels special. And sitting here, I’m transported back to earlier, to the feel of Rob behind me. Inside of me.
I feel good .
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I sold your dress.”
“You did?” I ask, astounded. “That was quick.”
“Look, I know it was worth eight grand or whatever. But I got four for it. I think that’s the best we can do based on what I’ve seen online.”
“You did that for me?” I ask, feeling a little emotional all over again.
“Yeah, Soph. Just like you took that Myers-Briggs thing with me and got me that job at Buchanan. I mean, the job didn’t work out, but I knew you had my back. You have everyone’s back. You shouldn’t be so shocked if we want to have yours.” But he gives me a knowing look, because he understand my struggles in a way other people don’t. “You’re my family.”
“Don’t make me cry,” I say, even though the tears are already welling.
“So we have four grand.” He claps his hands together. “What if we started a business together, Sophie? We could combine our Myers and Briggs talents and knock it out of the park, Ginnis style?”
“You want to do that with me ?” I’m so surprised, I don’t immediately know how to respond. Maybe I should tell him no. Otis isn’t always the most reliable person. But then again, he’s taken initiative lately. He sold my dress. He took that test…
He’s been trying, really hard, to catch that pigeon. There’s a little notepad in the kitchen chronicling all of his attempts.
Maybe he just needs someone to take a chance on him. Maybe that’s all both of us need.
“You want to open The Crafty Monster together?”
“Hell, yeah, I do. It sounds dope. I’m going to help out at Rob and Travis’s place as practice. He offered the other day. I was checking out their socials, and I can tell I’m going to love working with those little bastards.”
Oh, my heart…
Leave it to Rob to give him a chance before I even considered it. “I hope you don’t call them that.”
He mimes zipping his lips. “You saw my Briggs results. Working with kids is my thing. Yours too.”
“I think we should workshop ideas together,” I say, trying not to get too excited. “But I’m afraid four thousand dollars might not go very far. We’ll have to save up, probably for a while.”
“So we will,” he says, sounding like he really means it. “I have some ideas for making money. Other than catching Fluffnut, I mean. He’s one wily bird.”
“They don’t involve selling drugs, do they?”
He laughs. “Soph. What do you take me for?”
I grin at him, feeling a sense of belonging that’s still very new to me. “I take you for my cousin, whose room smells like cheap pot, but who is very good at purchasing spoons. Let’s use them to eat some ice cream.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I’ve become very fond of forks.”