Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mary London
“Did you fall in love this mornin’ or somethin’?” Maggie asks on a laugh when I zip around her to grab the iced mocha I picked up on the way into work but forgot to drink until just now.
I sputter out a laugh, then take a long pull on the straw with my eyes closed, enjoying that chocolatey goodness filling my mouth. “I just don’t know how coffee isn’t illegal in all fifty states.”
When I open my eyes, Maggie’s staring at me like I’ve lost my daggum mind.
“What? It’s that good! You really ought to try it instead of that dirty water you drink.”
Maggie sniffs. “Green tea is good for my health.”
“And coffee is good for my soul.” I lift my head when the door pops open and two young women walk in. “Good mornin’, y’all!”
“Seriously though. What’s gotten into you?” Maggie leans her hip against the counter, clearly not ready to help those ladies with a fitting room until I’ve spilled the beans.
She knows I’ve been in the process of opening another business, but I haven’t given her any specifics.
I didn’t need one more person trying to talk me out of opening a bar.
But now that I’ve hired Rhett, and he will soon be transforming the space into the rowdiest cowboy bar Mississippi’s ever seen, I better start being honest.
“I just hired a contractor to build out my new business.”
Maggie’s instantly happy for me because she’s good right down to her core. “That’s great, Mary London! Are you finally going to tell me what it is? Can’t be another boutique because we’ve got every age demographic covered here in Heaven. Maybe a salon? A daycare so mamas can shop longer?”
My smile feels a little forced now. See? That’s the kind of business everyone expects a good single Southern woman to open. Like going to college and being told nursing and education are the only acceptable degrees. Sounds antiquated, but the pressure is alive and well here in the South.
I put my hand on Maggie’s arm. “I’ll tell you, but I need you to promise me it won’t change how you look at me.”
Maggie’s face drains of color. “Is it a brothel, because I’m pretty sure those are illegal, hon.”
That gets a laugh out of me. “No, not a brothel. I’m opening a honky-tonk!”
Maggie pauses. “A what-now?”
“A cowboy bar with a mechanical bull, a stage for local bands, and a dance floor for line dancing.”
I study her expression as it morphs from disbelief to excitement. I’m pretty sure she’s not faking it. “Mary London Winthrop. You lil’ devil. I can’t wait!” Then she grabs my hands and starts jumping. “If only you’d opened it when I was still in college here.”
Now I’m jumping and squealing with her, letting all the excitement I’ve been keeping under wraps flow through. Customers are looking at us, and for once, I don’t care. Let them look. A woman deserves a moment to be both happy and proud of herself.
She pulls me into a hug, then lets go, still grinning ear to ear. “Shoot, now I’m buzzin’ like you. No coffee needed.”
“Thank you, Maggie,” I say softly. It means the world to me to have someone in my corner.
She shoots me a wink and goes to help the ladies with their try-ons. Telling Maggie has made me bolder. I pull out my phone and text my brother, Silas.
Me: Hey, you and Betsy Mae want to meet me for dinner after work today? Flyin’ Pig has two-for-one platters.
It doesn’t take long for him to respond.
Brother Dear: I can swing it, but let me ask Betsy.
Brother Dear: We’re in. Thanks for including Betsy.
That last comment makes me grin. He’s been flirting with his assistant from the moment she moved to Heaven. She’s everything he’s not and they’re amazing together. He’s just waiting on her to figure it out too. Personally, I can’t wait to call her my sister-in-law.
Me: No conversation is complete without her storm cloud attitude.
Brother Dear: No truer words spoken.
The restaurant is bustling around our little table in the corner, the smell of barbecue heavy in the air.
There’s even a faint line of smoke lingering from when the servers open the door to the back where the giant barbecue is busy roasting meats and sides.
Everyone’s enjoying their food and not paying us any attention, which is perfect for this conversation.
Despite Betsy Mae’s usual doom-and-gloom outlook on life, she’s over-the-moon excited about my new business venture when I finally tell them why I asked them to dinner.
Silas looks a bit more worried. I take another sip of spiked cider for courage.
“I’m really happy that everything’s finally in motion. I was getting bored just managing the boutique year after year. But I need you two to be happy for me too. I need your support.”
Silas reaches across the table and covers my hand. “I know what it’s like to have a family member not support you. I won’t be that person for you. You have my full support, Marlo.”
My eyes burn with tears over his words and the use of the nickname he’s had for me since childhood. I went through a phase of hating it, so it’s not often that Silas pulls it out and uses it. Now it just sounds sweet. Like he knows me better than anyone else on this planet.
“Thank you,” I whisper through a thick throat.
“Okay, so please tell me there’ll be a mechanical bull,” Betsy says, leaning across the table, blue eyes sparkling.
I grin, matching her energy. “Yes, ma’am. And line dancing and a stage for a band.”
Betsy flops back in her chair. “Oh my God! You won’t be able to keep me out of the bar.” She suddenly slams her hands down on the table. “Wait. What are you calling it?”
My brother just watches her with an adoring smile on his face. God, he’s so in love with her. Adorable. It also makes me a little sad. I can see a future where these two get married. And where will that leave me?
I push away that thought and focus on the present. “Bless Your Heart.”
Betsy squeals and Silas throws an arm over her shoulders to keep her from sliding right off her chair. He shakes his head at me.
“I’ve never seen her this excited about anything except for yet another article of clothing in black.”
I snort. It’s taken awhile to get Betsy to wear anything but shades of gray and black. Honestly, you only wear black around here when going to a funeral, but she doesn’t seem to care about that, just proving you can move a girl to the South, but you can’t make her Southern.
We spend the rest of dinner talking about the build-out; light fixtures, the actual bar top I’m hoping to get from a guy down south who makes them custom from trees hit by lightning, the dance floor, and all the other million details I’ll have to figure out very soon.
Silas ends up paying for my dinner though I try to fight him for it.
He refuses. “Just reserve me a special seat at your new bar, sis.”
“No chance, bro. Paying customers only.”
He gives me a quick hug as we stand up from the table. “You’re a tough bar boss already, aren’t you?”
We head out of the restaurant with me in the lead. It’s getting crowded like it always does on the two-for-one night. I bump into someone at the door and turn to apologize.
“Mary London?”
I’d recognize that cowboy hat and that deep rumble anywhere. “Rhett. Hi.”
I can’t seem to look at the man too long without getting lost in his eyes, so I look to the left to focus on his son instead. “Hey, Ry, getting some barbecue?”
The boy nods, then tosses his head to get the hair out of his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
I feel Silas and Betsy Mae at my back and realize my manners. “Rylan and Rhett, this is my brother, Silas, and his girlfriend, Betsy Mae.” I wave my hand between them.
Betsy snorts. “His assistant, not girlfriend.”
I ignore her. “Guys, this is…” I pause for some reason, not able to put into words who Rhett is. I look to Rylan, words finally rushing out. “The teenager who did some work on my boutique over the weekend.”
They all shake hands, and I feel incredibly awkward here in a crowded restaurant, unable to control how I feel about the man I just hired to work for me.
I’m usually so much more put together than this.
I have a kind word for everyone, and if they’ve done me wrong, I’m still able to find a way to put them in their place while beaming like the sun.
This stumbling over my words is new. Definitely unwanted.
“Okay, well, I have to get going,” I cut in, trying to maintain a smile that feels a bit like a grimace. “See you around!”
And then I’m pushing out the door, gulping up fresh night air that’s hotter than inside that restaurant and yet incredibly refreshing. Anything’s better than staying in Rhett’s presence right now. I stare up at the magnolia tree in the center of the Square, trying to control my breathing.
What the heavens has gotten into me?
“We’ll walk you to your car,” Silas says, coming up behind me. I almost jump out of my heels.
“Sure! Great.”
They keep a conversation going without me, thank goodness. I wish them goodnight when we get to my car and I head home, wondering why I acted so ridiculous back there. I mean, I just told my brother I was opening a bar. It wasn’t exactly the best time to introduce him to my contractor, right?
I snort in the silence of my car. That was probably the very best time to introduce him.
So why didn’t I? The bar isn’t a secret anymore.
I don’t want my brother to know how much I’m spending to build out the bar.
I know Rhett gave me a good deal on the labor, but it’s still a lot of money.
Maybe that’s it. I just don’t want my brother to worry.
“You’re a grown-ass woman, Mary,” I say out loud as I pull into my assigned parking spot at my condo complex just across our small town. “No need to be scared of criticism.”
As far as affirmations go, it lacks oomph, but I’m hoping if I say it enough, it’ll be true.
I grab my bag and climb out of the car, dragging myself upstairs.
I draw a hot bath, sink into the soapy bubbles, and try to calm my racing heart.
Resting my head back, I think about all the times Mama instilled a sense of decorum in everything I did.
She had good intentions and I owe a lot of my success to her.
But as I’m aging, I’m finding that a lot of the expectations she had of me as a woman are extremely limiting and not based on anything but what other people might think of me.
And I’m sick to death of worrying about what other people think of me.
My cell phone rings, startling me. I sit up, water sloshing, as I reach for my phone on the step leading to the bathtub. My eyes go wide and my heart rate kicks up again as I stare at the screen. It’s Rhett.
I debate picking it up. He probably just has a question about the bar. But I did just act like a total weirdo when I saw him tonight. I sigh, my thumb swiping across the screen to answer.
“Hello?”
“Mary London?”
“Yes.” I straighten up and plaster on a smile even though he can’t see me. “Did you and Rylan enjoy the barbecue?”
Rhett grunts in my ear and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t send a tingle throughout my entire body. Maybe answering the phone while I’m naked in the bathtub wasn’t my smartest decision.
“Is there a problem?” Rhett blurts out without answering my question.
“I’m sorry?”
There’s terse silence for a moment before Rhett keeps going, like he’s been debating calling me, and now that he has, he has to rush to get all the words out.
“You didn’t tell your own brother about me working for you on the bar.
If you have an issue with me, it’s better you tell me now. Before we start working together.”
I blink, mind spinning. “C-can you hold on a minute?”
I pull the phone from my ear and hit mute before dropping it back to the step.
Standing up, I grab a towel, wrap it around myself, and climb out.
I walk into my bedroom, all the while wondering how to address this.
Clearly I did freak out there at the restaurant.
Rhett saw it. And I need to explain it away. Fast.
Tapping the mute button again, I put the phone to my ear. “You still there?”
“Yes.”
I sit on the bed and picture him pacing his house, hat off, hand rubbing the back of his neck. I’ve seen him do that several times now, a habit I doubt he knows he has.
No need to be scared of criticism.
Isn’t that just what I told myself in the car? I square my shoulders and decide to tell the truth for once. The bald truth without fancying it up so it’ll be more palatable for everyone else.
“No, I don’t have an issue with you. The issue is with me.
I didn’t want to introduce you to my brother in your official capacity because then the conversation might have turned to how much I’m spending on this bar, which would have made my brother worry about my investment.
And then I would have had to backpedal and try to explain myself so that he doesn’t doubt me. So he doesn’t criticize me.”
There’s silence. Long enough I squeeze my eyes shut and wonder if I could just dig a hole and jump in—mud and bugs and everything—instead of having to continue this conversation.
“Does he criticize you often?”
My eyes fling back open. “No. Silas is a great big brother, but he just worries. And I’ve spent my whole life trying to do the right thing so that no one lifts a single eyebrow at my behavior or choices.”
Another stretch of silence before Rhett answers in that deep, slow rumble. “That’s a lot of eyebrows you’re trying to control.”
I bark out a laugh. “Yeah. Sounds kind of stupid when you put it like that.”
“There’s nothing stupid about you, Mary London,” comes his smooth reply. “You’re a successful business owner. An adult supporting yourself through life. This town is always going to have opinions, but none of that should affect your decisions.”
I swallow hard, feeling naked in more ways than one. “I wish it were that easy.”
“Me too,” comes his soft reply. “Maybe we can both work on that.”
I feel warm and tingly, like his words are a hug, bolstering me up and clearing away some of that doubt.
“I’d like that.”