Chapter 8
MAE
When Dad and I walked in, the bar was already open. Beck must have gotten ready in record time. I hadn’t bothered texting him myself; everything happened so fast. Sure enough, he was already behind the bar, opening up.
“Mr. O’Malley,” he said, refusing to call my father by his first name, as always. “Mae.”
I ignored the fact that my heart skipped a beat when he smiled like that at me, not a new phenomenon but an inconvenient one, given the circumstances. And given my own circumstances as a newly non-engaged person.
Not appropriate, Mae.
“You look awfully chipper given last night’s state of affairs,” I said.
“Heard you two had your fill of margaritas.” Dad hopped onto a stool. He was in good shape for his age. Thirteen years older than my mom, he was almost seventy-one. Why his retirement announcement had surprised me, I wasn’t sure. I guess I thought of him as much younger, sometimes.
“You could say that.” Beck closed the register and turned toward us, leaning against the back bar.
“Whelp.” Dad looked back and forth between us. “I hadn’t planned on having this conversation yet, with Mae’s circumstances and all.”
“Blowing up my life, he means,” I clarified.
“Mae Day.” Beck laughed at my father’s inside joke, but I just groaned. It was as corny now as it had always been, my father’s reminder to not put bad energy about myself into the universe. Yes, he was a hippy at heart.
I cleared my throat. “I meant to say… Mom and Dad apparently had a trip to Florida planned for next week that they were going to cancel. Thankfully, I overheard them and told them that was ridiculous.”
“You were planning to cancel?” Beck asked. He apparently already knew about the trip. But I was certain, after talking to my parents, he didn’t know the reason they were going.
“We were talking about it. We originally planned it for after Mae was due to head back to France. But now that she’s home—”
“They’re worried about my mental state,” I finished.
Dad gave me “the look.” “We are not worried about your mental state. We just want to be supportive and now didn’t seem like the right time to tell you.”
“That you were going to Florida?” Beck was clearly confused.
I let my father take that one.
“We’d planned on talking to Mae first and wanted to do it in person before coming to you. Then she delayed her trip, so we were unsure what to do.”
Now he was really confused. Poor Beck.
I waited for his reaction. Despite knowing him my whole life, I honestly couldn’t predict what it would be.
His life aspirations were not something Beck liked to discuss.
His parents had put way too much pressure on him to live up to their lofty standards and high-society ideals, apparently forgetting they also came from humble beginnings.
“Ray Adams,” Dad announced.
Beck blinked, more confused than ever. Ray was one of my father’s best friends who up and took a heart attack in January despite being a marathon runner and one of the healthiest people we knew.
“We’re on borrowed time. Mae’s mother and I have busted our tails at this bar, and don’t get me wrong, we loved every minute of it.
Being our own bosses. Working together. Meeting a lot of good people.
But we’re tired of New York winters and don’t want to wait until life catches up to enjoy some sunshine. ”
“Their Florida trip is to look for a condo,” I finished, knowing my father’s propensity for dragging out stories. “They want to retire.”
“Mae has said in the past she wasn’t interested in owning the bar,” my dad added quickly. “But we wanted to be certain before coming to you.”
Beck was finally getting it. He pushed up from the bar, stood straight, and ran his hand through that gorgeous head of hair.
“It’s yours if you want it, Beck. It’ll be the best price we can offer without taking too much of a hit since we’re using those funds, or part of them, for the condo.”
“You want… me to have the bar?”
“Of course. Who else? Take some time to think about it, and if it doesn’t line up with your goals… well, I’d be sorry to see it go to someone outside the family. But our time has come. No use working our whole lives if we can’t enjoy the fruits of our labor.”
My father was so corny. But also, such an awesome man.
It suddenly occurred to me the one thing that had always bothered me about Mathieu…
how different he was from my father. They were polar opposites, which was fine, I supposed, but I always thought I’d end up with someone like him.
My mother never questioned his devotion to her.
It also just occurred to me that he considered Beck part of the family. That was kinda cute.
“That’s why Paul Baker was in here sniffing around?”
My dad frowned. “Yeah, he must have gotten wind I’d had the place appraised.”
“You don’t want it?” Beck asked me.
He already knew the answer. “I never minded working here, but owning a pub doesn’t exactly line up with my skill set. No offense to either of you, but I didn’t go to CIA and study at the best pastry school in France to make chicken fingers and fries.”
My dad smiled at me. “I didn’t pay for you to attend CIA and help fund your trip to France for you to make chicken fingers and fries either. But you could do anything you want with this place.”
We’d had this discussion many times. “I know, but it still takes a lot to run a bar. You and Mom had the benefit of doing it together. I don’t think this”—I waved my hands around, admiring the renovated oak and attention to detail my parents had put into O’Malley’s—“says mille-feuille.”
“Mille what now?” Beck asked.
Dad chuckled.
“If you want it,” I reiterated to Beck, knowing it was the right decision, “it’s yours.”
Beck exhaled. Clearly it was a lot to take in. And neither of us wanted to pressure him. But my parents would be keeping their trip to Florida. The last thing I wanted was them putting their dreams on hold on my behalf.
“Listen, we know this was just sprung on you.” I turned my attention to my father. “You and Mom go to Florida. I’ll help out while you’re gone. I need something to do, and a source of income, while I figure out next steps. We got this. And it’ll give Beck some time to think about it.”
True to his easy-going nature, Beck shrugged. “Works for me. And I agree with Mae. You guys deserve it.” He made his way over to my father to shake his head. “Whatever happens, I appreciate the confidence in me with your legacy, Mr. O’Malley.”
Seeing the two of them together made me all warm and fuzzy inside. They were very different in so many ways—as far as I knew my dad wasn’t a ladies’ man like Beck, even back in the day—but they were both kind at heart, respectful and… it just made me happy that someone believed in Beck.
“We can talk more when I get back. The books—”
“Don’t worry about them. I got it,” Beck said.
“Uh huh,” I said. “By ‘I got it’ you mean, ‘Mae will do it.’”
Beck had always hated math. I’d done pretty much all of his math homework in exchange for him writing my essays throughout school.
“That’s exactly what I meant.”
“Dad,” I teased. “I’m not sure about leaving Beck as my boss.”
He laughed. “You are co-managers,” he said. “How’s that?”
“Oh, gawd.” Beck rolled his eyes, and head, backwards. “Lord help me.”
“Not sure about the lord,” Dad said to Beck. “But Mama finally sprang for that online program for bookkeeping you’ve been after us about. We can access it remotely, so if there are any problems, we can help.”
Wow, my parents were joining the twenty-first century. Refreshing. “Remote access. Fancy. Do you even have a laptop?” I asked him.
Dad looked at Beck in mock horror. “Do you hear that? The girl goes to a fancy school in France and suddenly thinks her father is a country bumpkin.”
“To be fair, I’ve never actually seen you or Mrs. O’Malley using a laptop. Or a computer, for that matter.”
It was true. They liked to live as if we were still in the 1950s and probably wouldn’t even have cell phones if I hadn’t gone away to college. Never mind how long it took them to learn to video call me in France.
“As a matter of fact,” my dad said, looking sheepish now, “we’re going shopping for one today.”
“I knew it. Country bumpkin my…” Smartly, I stopped before finishing that sentence.
“Speaking of.” Dad looked at his watch. “I’m picking your mom up from the hairdressers soon. Do you need a ride back?”
“Could you use an extra hand today?” I asked Beck, to which he grinned.
“You’re the manager. You tell me.”
My dad stood, chuckling. “Wish I could stay for the fireworks, but duty calls.” He kissed me on the cheek. “Take it easy on him, will you?”
“No chance,” I said as Dad walked away. I watched him, noticing how he glanced around at the bar.
It must be strange, to give your entire life to a place and have to walk away from it.
Part of me felt guilty for not keeping it in the family, taking it over.
But O’Malley’s was his dream, not mine. With luck, Beck would buy it and keep things mostly the same.
Speaking of Beck, he was looking at me strangely.
“What?”
“We have a lot to discuss,” he said, in a rare moment of seriousness.
“Yes,” I agreed. “We do.”