Chapter 6
6
“ C ongratulations,” Terrance says, shaking my hand.
For the past three months, I’ve worked with him at the firm, familiarizing myself with the office and the two employees, Monica and Ralph. Monica is the paralegal, and Ralph is the secretary.
Terrance won’t retire for another three months, but he’s giving me his business. The man must really love my abuela to trust me with a firm he spent decades building.
I could’ve rejected the offer. Essie thinks this is another opportunity stolen from her, but she doesn’t know that if I hadn’t agreed to take over the firm, Terrance had someone next in line who wasn’t her. The grandson of one of his former law school buddies.
I haven’t seen her since the diner, but I heard she opened her firm today. I couldn’t resist sending her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. One night, while we had been spread out on a blanket in the park, she’d told me that her favorite flower shop here made the prettiest sweet honey bouquet.
“Let’s celebrate with drinks and dinner at Down Home Pub,” Terrance says, snapping me out of my thoughts. He grabs his tweed blazer off the back of his chair. “Valeria and Paula will meet us after they finish with the real estate agent.”
My abuela put her house on the market. It was a surprise to all of us since she used to tell us stories of when she'd bought it, pride deep in her voice. My mother is still worried about her rushing into such a major decision with a man she’s known for less than a year.
But from the time I’ve spent with Terrance, I think he seems to be a stand-up guy. Like my abuela, he knows the pain of losing a spouse since his wife passed away from a stroke five years ago.
We leave the office and slip into Terrance’s old Volvo. He turns down the classical music as we buckle our seat belts. The pub is a short drive from the office and even closer to Essie’s new firm. During my lunch break, I couldn’t stop myself from plugging the address into my GPS and sneaking in a quick drive-by.
I love the convenience in Blue Beech. There’s little traffic, and nothing is more than fifteen minutes away. Although I was born in Iowa, when I was five, my mother moved us to California when she got a position teaching law at a university. We didn’t return to Iowa until I was seventeen to be closer to my abuela.
It’s six o’clock on a Thursday, but the pub’s parking lot is already crowded. When we walk inside, the dim lighting provides a comfortable vibe. In the corner, a band plays a Tom Petty cover. The place is a little divey but has character with Blue Beech memorabilia and old beer ads on the walls.
People wave at Terrance and stop me to introduce themselves.
I meet a Wayne, who says he might need to sue his neighbor.
A Jessica, who offers to give me a tour of Blue Beech.
A Capria, who offers to have me over for dinner so I can try her famous pie.
Since I’ve started venturing around town, this has happened often. My abuela made sure to note that multiple women had pointed out I didn’t have a ring on my finger.
After I decline Jessica’s and Capria’s proposals, Terrance and I sit at a four-top table near the back.
“The fried tenderloin is my favorite here,” Terrance says, swiping a menu from the basket in the middle of the table. “They have the best french fries too.”
When the server, whose name tag says Alicia, comes, Terrance orders the tenderloin while I go with a BLT.
I flip the menu to check out their drink specials. “What are your beer options?”
“We only serve Down Home Brewery beer here,” Alicia replies with a smile.
“It’s good stuff,” Terrance says before ordering a glass of Alicia’s recommendation.
I return my menu to the basket. “I’ll have the same.”
I’m usually more of a bourbon or whiskey drinker, but I don’t want anything strong. The local ale seems to be the preferred drink in Blue Beech.
Alicia tucks her pen behind her ear. “I’ll be back with your drinks, and the food should be up shortly.”
“I was never a beer man until I tried Blue Beech’s ale,” Terrance says. “This pub has been in the owner, Maliki’s, family for decades. His son opened Down Home Brewery, and this place hasn’t served any other beer since.”
Alicia returns with mugs spilling over with beer. It’s tastier than the cheap, watered-down shit I tried in college.
Terrance and I share law school stories. He tells me about life in Blue Beech and how he raised his two sons here. While neither no longer lives in Blue Beech, his grandson is a vet who splits his time between here and Anchor Ridge, a town nearby.
While my abuela is loud and sarcastic, Terrance is chill with a monotone voice. She wears bright, patterned clothing, and his wardrobe consists of beige and blazers that belong in the ’80s .
Our food arrives at the same time my mother and abuela join us.
“No, you cannot fire your real estate agent for suggesting you take better care of your houseplants,” my mother says as they sit.
“Fine,” my grandmother argues with a huff as Terrance kisses her cheek. “If he’s so worried it’ll detract buyers, he can go water them his damn self.”
I take a bite of my sandwich and listen to them bicker about agents and whether she’ll drop the price if necessary. I nod, pretending to agree with what they’re both saying, but freeze when I hear, “Cheers to Essie for starting her new firm!”
I turn in my chair so fast that you’d swear someone punched me in the back of the head, and I search the pub for Essie.
When I find her, my body relaxes, and I smile. Essie’s beauty has always captivated me, and it’s no different now. Her brown hair is loose in curls, and she’s wearing a pink top with a tight black skirt. I wish I could see her killer legs, but the crowd cuts off most of my view of her.
There’s more to her than beauty too. Essie is wicked smart and kind—albeit not to me now—and our humor has always matched.
She used to be mine.
Sorrow hits me as I remember what I lost.
She raises her shot glass and toasts to her success with her friends. I can’t stop myself from lifting my mug and doing the same.
My abuela smacks my arm, breaking me from my trance. “Who’s that pretty girl you’re staring at?”
“Essie Lane,” Terrance answers for me.
“Do you know her, Adrian?” my mother asks, texting while keeping her eye on me.
I nod. “She’s my old dormmate, River’s, sister.”
“Hmm,” my mother hums. “Small world. ”
“Essie just started her own firm,” Terrance adds. There’s no animosity in his voice about it. “She used to work at the same firm as Adrian, Adaway and Williams.”
My mother blinks at me and sets down her phone. From the look she gives me, I’m positive she thinks I came here for Essie.
Technically, I did.
But I won’t share that with her.
Terrance straightens the napkin on his lap. “Essie is a nice young lady. Very smart.”
“Hmm,” my mother hums again.
The moment Essie leaves her table, I slide off my stool.
“Be right back,” I hurriedly say before strolling in her direction. I keep my eyes glued on her while weaving through the crowd.
And that’s how I conveniently run into Essie.
“Whoa,” I say with a little too much dramatics when my shoulder accidentally brushes hers.
I pretend to be headed in the opposite direction, and she cut me off.
She steps back, and, damn, do I wish there was better lighting so I could see more of her face. I inhale her sweet perfume, a mix of mandarins and flowers. It’s what she wore in college.
“Adrian,” she says with more hatefulness than I’d like. “Why are you here?” Her voice grows more agitated. “This is my town.”
I hoped she’d be in less of an I hate Adrian mood since she’s celebrating a new milestone in her career. Apparently, she’s still on the ownership of Blue Beech mentality.
“I wasn’t aware this was Essie Beech.” I shove my hands into my pockets and lean back on my heels. “The sign at the town limits states otherwise.”
Sometimes—and it’s probably not a good idea—I enjoy pushing her buttons. Especially when she attempts to force herself to forget all the feelings she had for me years ago .
She crosses her arms. “You knew I lived here. So, yes, it’s my town.”
“How would I know you still lived here?” I slide closer as the band plays louder. “Is this how you treat all the new Blue Beech residents?”
“Only the unwelcome ones who come here to mess with me.”
“I’m not here to mess with you.”
“Then, why are you here?”
“I told you, for my abuela and to try something new.”
“I have an idea if you want to try something new. I hear they need a salesperson for World Series tickets. Rumor is, you’re good with getting rid of those.”
I smirk. “Nah, I’m not a baseball fan, which is why I gave the tickets away. I’d rather try somewhere new, like a small town.”
“Are you moving here for good?”
“When I find a place, yes.”
We shuffle a few feet away from the bar as it grows busier.
Essie blows out a long breath. “Why are you doing this, Adrian? You can start a firm anywhere. Why where I call home?”
Because wherever you are feels like home to me , is what I want to say, but I hold myself back.
Instead, I say, “What if I want to call it home as well?”
“Too bad. I called dibs here when I was in the womb.”
I decide to go with a different angle. “It’s not like I woke up one morning and said, Gee, I think I’ll move to Blue Beech . My abuela lives here, and now, I work here. No matter what, I’d be here, even if you weren’t.”
I hate that I’m lying to her.
No way in hell would I have taken Terrance’s offer if she wasn’t here.
“And what’s up with the flowers?” she says, her words coming out faster. It’s what she does when she grows agitated. It’s also something we worked on in college because she wanted to slow her talking— pack a better punch with them in courtrooms . “Did you send them to create bad juju in my office?”
I shake my head. “The flowers were a genuine gesture. I want your firm to succeed, Essie.”
“Sure,” she drawls out. “ I want my competition to do well , said no one ever.”
“There’s plenty of business to go around, and as I suggested before, we can always merge.”
She scoffs. “I’d appreciate you finding another pub to hang out at. This is my safe space, which means Adrian-free.”
I glance around. “ This is your safe space? If I recall correctly, your safe space used to be quiet libraries and places where people wouldn’t talk to you.”
“I could go for the don’t talk to me right now.”
“Sorry, Esmeralda, but you can’t lay claim to a public place.”
She holds up a finger as if counting. “A, this isn’t a public place. It’s a private business owned by my uncle.” Another finger rises. “B, don’t call me that.” She makes a shoo gesture. “Now, find your own safe space.”
“Oh shit. Adrian, is that you?” River asks, interrupting us. He stops at Essie’s side—his height nearly three inches taller than her—and points toward me with his beer. When Essie gives him a dirty look, he shuffles back a step. “Shit, sorry.” His attention returns to me. “I forgot I’m supposed to hate you for reasons my sister won’t tell me.”
River and I got along in college, but I wouldn’t consider us close friends. While I kept to myself and studied, River made the best of college life until he dropped out. I’m almost positive he went to college for the experience and left when he was tired of it.
Essie elbows River. “Uh, promotion stealer, remember?”
River dramatically glares at me. “Yeah, you rat bastard, you.” He claps my shoulder. “Sorry, man, it’s twin rules. If she hates you, I hate you by proxy.” His tone says he’s far more entertained than worried about hating me.
“Swear to God, I’m never having your back again,” Essie grumbles to River.
“Sis, you know I one hundred percent always have your back.” River laughs. “The problem with this time is that I know you two don’t really hate each other. You’re just too much alike.”
“Negative,” Essie says, her gaze traveling to me. “I’m not morally corrupt.”
“You two kids have fun,” River says, chuckling while he leaves us and wanders toward the bar.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, I hold my hand out. “Truce?”
She flicks her hand against my extended one as if it were an annoying gnat. “Uh, no.”
“Come on.” I throw my head back.
“I never give in that easily, Adrian. You should know that by now.”
Without another word, she turns and walks away from me.
I watch her, shamelessly staring at her plump ass, before focusing on the others who do the same as she passes. I want to shove them away, tell them eyes off what’s mine, but that’d probably get me banned from this place.
“I see you and Pretty Girl had a nice little chat,” my abuela says when I return to our table.
For a man who was just practically told to fuck off by a girl, I’m not feeling as discouraged as I had when I tried speaking with her at Adaway and Williams. Something about this town has a feeling of hope, of forgiveness, of happiness. I want to find that here with her.
“You know what would be adorable?” My abuela doesn’t offer me a chance to answer her question. “If you two got a case against each other.”
Adorable? No.
Fun? Probably not.
A way to be around Essie more? Absolutely .
Essie and I don’t speak the rest of the night, but we keep catching each other staring.
I want her to forgive me.
This time, I want to have the strength to make her mine.
I want Essie’s hate toward me to turn back into love.