Chapter 6 #2
“Nope, but I did notice that y’all had a few words,” Bernie answered. “She’s had a tough year. Give her some space to work things out.”
He picked up his cowboy hat and settled it on his head. “I can do that. If you decide to stay on a few more years, will you consider hiring me to work for you?”
“I will give it some thought. Good night to you, Nash,” she said.
“Thank you, and good night to you, Miz Bernie.” He tipped his hat toward her.
Without even realizing it, he had just given her the proof of love that she wanted for her bar. He liked it so much that he was willing to work there if he couldn’t buy the place. Now if she could figure out what bee had gotten stuck in Clara’s bloomers, things would be great.
Clara had already left the bar, so Bernie turned off the fans and flipped the light switch.
There was something about the end of the day when the bar was dark that brought out a whole slew of memories, but she didn’t take time to dwell on them.
She picked up two bottles of beer, twisted the tops off, hurried on back to the apartment, and sighed when the cold air hit her in the face.
“It feels pretty dang good, don’t it?” Clara had kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the sofa. “Pepper didn’t take long to do his business, and he’s flopped out on the cool kitchen floor.”
Bernie handed one of the beers to Clara, sank down in her recliner, and popped the footrest up. “I’m worn plumb out. How about you?”
“Not as much tired as hot,” she answered.
“And aggravated about something, right?”
“Yep, but I’d rather talk about anything else,” Clara answered. “Like why are you planning to live in a trailer? Why don’t you just take over one of those bedrooms up in the Paradise?”
“Several reasons,” Bernie answered. “Sometimes I might want to put a little Jameson in my morning coffee. What Mary Jane don’t know won’t hurt her on that issue.
And a cigar helps me figure out something when I’m worried.
I would never smoke in the house, but still, I would have to be careful.
That’s enough right there, but then there’s Pepper.
I can’t ask Mary Jane to let me bring a dog into her house.
She has a sassy cat that is twice his size, and that vicious critter would probably kill him.
But the biggest reason is that I need my own space. ”
“Good reasons,” Clara said, “but you could just leave Pepper here. I’ve kind of gotten attached to him.”
“Can’t do it.” Bernie chuckled. “Hershal could possibly go to hell for stealing the dog for me. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t take him with me.
If Hershal ever comes back into the bar, I’ll pretend that I would have rather had the dead goldfish.
But truth is I’ve wanted a Chihuahua my whole life.
My sister claimed to be allergic to cats and dogs, so I could never have one. ”
As if the dog understood what Bernie said, he hopped up on the edge of her chair and whined. She picked him up, and he licked her chin and then curled up in her lap. “Poor little guy was lonesome. He’ll be happy when he doesn’t have to stay alone every night.”
“Well, if you change your mind…” Clara said.
“And if you decide you want to talk about whatever has put you in a grouchy mood, I’m here. I’m a bartender, and that makes me an excellent listener,” Bernie said.
“I like Nash, but after Kent, I vowed never to date a coworker again,” she admitted. “So, we will have to keep our relationship totally professional.”
“And that makes you all grumpy?” Bernie was more than a little disappointed that her matchmaking wasn’t going to be a smooth ride.
Clara was quiet for several moments before she spoke. “Yes, it does. It’s like having one of those maple-sugar-topped doughnuts laid out in front of me and being told that I can’t even smell it, much less take a bite.”
“I’ve walked a mile in your shoes a few times,” Bernie said with a smile. “But what if Nash is the one?”
“How would I know that after less than a week?” Clara asked.
“My advice to you is to listen to your heart, not your mind, but don’t get in a rush.
” Bernie wasn’t happy that the Universe decided to put her first-ever attempt at matchmaking in jeopardy.
She had read somewhere that most couples didn’t meet, sit down on a blanket under a shade tree, and fall in love.
No, sir! They had to overcome all kinds of obstacles, but Mama Fate could have been nicer to Bernie since this was her virgin cruise in the new field of happy-ever-after business.
It didn’t have to put her first couple on a high limb in that big, old scrub oak tree and lob rocks at them.
Clara finally ended another long moment of silence. “That sounds like a line from one of Aunt Mary Jane’s books.”
“It probably is, but it doesn’t make it any less real,” Bernie said.
“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.
At least now that the new laws have passed, the smoke doesn’t hover around the ceiling like dark clouds.
I used to have to come home every night after closing and wash that smell out of my hair. ”
Clara took a couple of long drinks from her beer. “Any form of tobacco was outlawed before I even started bartending,” she said and then groaned, “Why couldn’t you have found an ugly bartender?”
“That was an abrupt change of subject.” Bernie chuckled. “If you will remember, I didn’t find Nash. He found me, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to sell to him. But the way you are feeling, it might be best if you go to Texas with me, rather than staying here.”
“Maybe so,” Clara agreed and stood up. “But tonight I have decided to not think about Nash anymore.”
“Take your empty beer bottle with you and put it in the recycle bin,” Bernie told her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Sweet dreams. Maybe they’ll even be about Nash and help you decide whether to stay and fight or to take flight and go with me to the Paradise.”
“I hope I don’t dream at all. I need a rest from all things that involve decisions.” She stopped and sat back down. “Before I go, tell me about you and Hershal. He thought you were in love with him and even risked going to jail for stealing for you. What’s the story?”
“It’s a short one,” Bernie answered. “We were in our early forties, and he was a regular at the bar. We flirted. We slept together. I went on one short truck run with him that lasted from Saturday night after work until about noon on Monday. He wasn’t the only one in my life back then, and I had no idea that all these years later he would even remember my comment about that little dog we saw on the trip.
He still came into the bar occasionally, but the fire had gone out in our little romance. The end.”
“Been there. Done that. Have the memories to prove it.” Clara stood back up. “I’m going to take a quick shower after you’re done so I don’t get the bedsheets all sweaty. Good night, Aunt Bernie.”
“Good night, my child,” Bernie said.