Chapter 9
Not only had Bernie never pulled a trailer behind a vehicle, but she also hadn’t had time to get the hang of driving a new truck with all the bells and whistles that the newer models had.
She didn’t even turn on the radio for fear that the noise would distract her.
Driving in deafening silence gave her mind plenty of time to think about the next phase of her life.
Item number one on her roller coaster of thoughts was the difference in Clara that morning.
She had seemed both excited and sad at the breakfast table, not totally unlike what Bernie had seen in Luna.
The mixed emotions were still in Clara’s expression that morning as she stared out the front window.
Bernie chalked it up to her having jumbled feelings about putting down roots in a town the size of Ratliff City.
She has found something that makes her happy, but she has to want it bad enough to grab on to it with both hands and hang on for dear life, Bernie thought as she crossed the Taovayas Indian Bridge over the Red River and into Texas.
What are you going to do about it? The pesky voice in her head asked.
I’m going to fix it, Bernie growled in her mind and then smiled at the next idea that popped into her head.
She could sell Nash half of the Chicken Coop and give the other half to Clara.
That way her niece would never be beholden to anyone again.
She had always planned to leave the fortune she had amassed over the years to Mary Jane’s girls, but since Clara had come to her for help, it would be only fair that she also got a little inheritance.
Bernie nodded in agreement with her decision, but decided to mull it over for a while before she made her final decision. It would bind Nash and Clara together and make them a business couple, but in time, if she gave them plenty of time alone, it would develop into something personal, too.
“Yes,” she muttered.
“What was that?” Clara asked.
“I was agreeing with an idea I had,” Bernie answered. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Taking the trailer to the Paradise seems so final, and I already miss you,” Clara answered.
“Girl, I’m only an hour away from you, and since the cops seldom ever patrol this back road, you can get here faster if you keep a sharp eye out for a stray highway patrol.
” Bernie wiggled her eyebrows and grinned.
“Since you and Nash will be sharing the apartment, maybe he will make breakfast for you.”
“I’ll most likely be doing that myself,” she said.
“Do you think that he’ll be so good in bed that you are the one making a thank-you breakfast?” Bernie teased.
“I don’t expect that I will ever know,” Clara said. “Like I’ve told you before, I’m not getting involved with a coworker—and especially not with my boss. That could create all kinds of problems.”
“Yep, it could,” Bernie agreed, “but what if he wasn’t your boss, what then?”
“Maybe, but not likely. He’s got enough money to pay cash for the Chicken Coop. I have a check in my purse for what I made last week, which I shouldn’t even cash.”
“Why not?” Bernie asked. “You earned every dime of that money.”
“You gave me a home. You feed me. You love me unconditionally. I should be working for free. I came to the bar in a hot mess, and you took me in.” She stopped and took a long breath.
“Been fun, hasn’t it?” Bernie said.
“More than words can describe,” Clara answered.
“Then stop looking back. The past is gone and only the memories remain. Choose the good ones and throw out the bad. The future isn’t guaranteed, so make the most of this day.
Now, back to Nash. Money is only dirty paper with dead presidents printed on it.
Nash’s heart has no idea if he has a million dollars in the bank or he doesn’t have two pennies to rub together. And neither does yours.”
Holy hell, this matchmaking job is harder than I thought it would be, but I’m not giving up on Clara and Nash.
I can see the attraction growing faster than I even thought was possible.
I’ve still got a few weeks before I turn the bar over to them, Bernie thought as she made the final turn toward the Paradise.
***
Clara sipped a glass of icy-cold sweet tea and set the rocking chair in motion with her foot.
The afternoon sun was hot, but a nice little breeze fanned across the wide porch.
Luna sat in a matching chair on her left, and Endora in one on her right.
She imagined the women who worked in the Paradise when it was a brothel sitting on the porch and having mint juleps.
Her aunt had described the way that Madam Raven ran the place so well that Clara wondered what it would have been like.
“What’s on your mind?” Endora asked.
“Actually, I was thinking about…” She stopped and asked, “Have y’all read your mother’s books about the ladies who worked here when it was first built?”
“Of course,” Luna answered. “It’s a great story.”
“I’ve been thinking about what it must have been like,” Clara said.
“Those women did have more independence than the married women in the area. Many of them had regular lovers, too, and managed to teach the men how to please them. My ex was one of those slam-bam, snoring-in-two-minutes type of guys.” She was glad she could talk about such personal things with two women who were close to her age.
“Oh no, that’s terrible,” Endora declared. “But since I’m off men forever, I’m changing the subject. Are you still happy working for Aunt Bernie? I don’t think I could ever work in a bar.”
“Very, very happy,” Clara answered. “And I also love that we are reconnecting and I can’t wait to see my other five cousins.”
“Me too,” Endora said. “Mama never told us what happened to make her side of the family so mad at us.”
“She lives in a former brothel,” Clara whispered and shifted her eyes around in a dramatic gesture, “and she writes romance books.”
Endora giggled. “Those are crazy reasons.”
“There seems to be a division among sisters that goes way back on the family tree,” Clara said and explained the differences from Aunt Bernie and her sister, all the way down to Clara and Myra.
“I’m glad we didn’t have that kind of thing among us seven,” Luna declared. “We argued and even had some hellacious fights out in the yard, but when it came to unity…”
Endora butted in and finished the sentence. “If someone crossed any one of us, or hurt our feelings, they were in for a battle with all seven of us.”
“That’s because you lived in a brothel and your mama wrote romance books,” Clara said with a giggle. “You are the lucky ones. You broke the mold.”
“Were there any cheating men in all that history of the sisters?” Endora asked.
“I’m sure there were,” Clara answered. “When Aunt Bernie moves down here and you are lucky enough to get her full time, you should ask her about her love life.”
“Lucky?” Endora asked with a puzzled expression on her face.
“Why are you asking that?” Clara frowned.
“Aunt Bernie gets into everyone’s business,” Luna whispered. “For some reason, she doesn’t want Ursula or the other sisters to know that she’s moving here. Mama practically brought out the Bible, made us lay our hand on it and swear we wouldn’t say a word to them.”
“That’s for two whole months,” Endora groaned. “I have trouble keeping a secret for two days. Thank God that Luna knows, or I would explode trying to keep from telling her. We share everything.”
Clara noticed that Luna squirmed a little in her chair and didn’t make eye contact with her sister. There was a whole pot full of gossiping tea to be spilled there for sure, and it had nothing to do with telling the other five sisters that Bernie was moving to Spanish Fort.
“Speak of the devil,” Luna whispered with a grin.
Bernie opened the door and poked her head out. “Y’all want to go see where Joe Clay parked my trailer?”
“Sure,” Clara, Luna, and Endora all chimed together.
“We really could be sisters rather than just cousins,” Luna said.
“I like that idea,” Clara said. “Our names end the same way, so we could pull it off. Clara, Endora, and Luna.”
They followed Bernie through the kitchen, and Clara smiled when Mary Jane picked a floppy, straw hat off a hook beside the back door as she passed by and crammed it down on her head. “Got to keep the sunspots at bay as much as possible.”
“Mama fussed at me and Myra if we even mentioned trying to get a tan, but Nana Vernie Sue was even more vocal about it,” Clara said and then wondered if she shouldn’t have even brought her mother’s name up.
“Marsha was right about that,” Mary Jane said. “I always discouraged my girls from tanning, too.”
Well, how about that? Clara thought. She said something nice about her sister, and I’ve never heard Mama say anything sweet about Aunt Mary Jane.
***
The hands on the clock seemed to go in warp speed the rest of the week. Bernie looked at the date on her phone on Friday and couldn’t believe that four days had passed since she took her trailer to the Paradise.
“Aunt Bernie, Nash and I can do this cleanup if you will change out the jukebox. It’s time to get some different music on there,” Clara suggested when they were walking through the storage room.
“Time has gotten away from me,” Bernie admitted. “You are so right. I need to remove all the Fourth of July songs, so I’ll take you up on that offer. Go on and get busy”—she stopped and pulled a storage box of records from a shelf—“and I’ll get the change done.”
Clara took the container from her. “Let me take that for you.”
“Thanks,” Bernie said. “Next time around, it will be y’all’s turn to do this.”
Nash came into the storage room and hoisted a large cardboard box of beer onto his shoulder. “Do what?”
“Change out the jukebox records,” Clara answered. “I’ve never done that. Have you?”
“Nope, but I’m willing to learn.” Nash set the beer on the bar and then turned to Clara. “That looks heavy. Let me carry it for you.” He took the box from her and put it on the floor beside the jukebox. “Do we clean up the place first, or learn how to do this?”
Bernie scooted the jukebox out far enough that she could get behind it. “I reckon you better learn this first. You already know how to sweep, mop, and restock, but since I won’t be here next time this needs to be done, you had best learn the process.”
She carefully removed the back of the jukebox, pulled out records, and slipped them and the tabs with the name and artist into empty paper sleeves.
Then she reversed the process until every slot was filled—mostly with country music, but she did add a little Creedence Clearwater Revival and Etta James for flavor.
“And that’s all there is to it,” she said when she finished and filed the records she had removed into the box behind the Fourth of July tab.
“I change them every holiday, and sometimes in between, but y’all can figure out how often you want to do the job.
I think I’ll go through some of the stuff in the storage room this evening.
Y’all have been doing most of the bar business all week anyway, but if you need me, just holler and I’ll come running. Or maybe I’ll just walk real fast.”
“Does this mean you are about ready to draw up the contract to sell the place to me?” Nash asked.
“Just about, but you promised me six weeks, and I’m holding you to it,” Bernie answered.
“It will take that long for me to go through everything and decide what Pepper and I want to take, and what we’ll be content to leave behind.
I’ve already told him that there’s lots of squirrels on the Paradise property, so he can’t even ask about taking some from here. ”
“I’ll gladly work the six weeks and learn all I can about how you do things,” Nash said with a grin and glanced over at Clara.
Bernie fought the urge to do a little jig right there beside the jukebox.
The looks they had exchanged all week said she was making progress—even if it was in baby steps.
She could easily pack up and be ready to leave by Monday after she visited with her lawyer, but she needed more time to convince them that they belonged together.
What if you are wrong? her sister’s voice scolded. She should be finding her soulmate in church like her sister did.
“I’ve run a bar for decades, and I know when two people belong together,” Bernie muttered, then glanced around to be sure that neither Clara nor Nash heard her.