Chapter 10 #2
“Boone says we need to organize a workday. Get a group together, tackle all the little repairs ourselves, save you money on labor.”
“I can’t ask people to give up their weekend to fix my bar.”
“You’re not asking. We’re offering.”
He’s already typing another message.
“I’m texting Dolly and Presley too. We’ll plan it for Sunday. That’ll give us some time to get supplies.”
I want to argue, to insist that I can handle this myself by hiring people, but the truth is, I can’t. I don’t know how to fix a roof, repair a cooler, or organize a commercial storage area to meet health code standards. And I really don’t have the extra money to do it.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait till you see what happens when I let Boone organize a workday.”
Despite everything, I laugh.
* * *
The rest of the day passes in a blur of worry and planning. Wyatt gets quotes from three companies for the cooler repair in case he and Boone can’t fix it. The cheapest is $3,500, which makes my stomach hurt. He insists he can patch the roof himself for about $500 in materials.
$4,000. Four thousand dollars I barely have.
I’m in the office after closing, staring at the bar’s bank account on my laptop, when there’s a knock on the door frame. It’s Dolly, wearing her favorite pink vest with the little hearts on it. She looks concerned.
“Sugar, Wyatt told me about the inspection. You doing okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, that’s bull, and we both know it. You’ve got that look you get when you’re trying to hold it together.”
I close my laptop and rub my eyes. “I don’t…
I just… I don’t know how I’m gonna pay for all this.
The bar account has about $3,000 right now, and I need $4,000 just for the repairs.
Plus, I have to pay all the normal bills, and I’m not really paying myself anything, and my personal credit cards are maxed out from Atlanta,” I stop myself before I completely spiral.
Dolly sits down across from me. “First of all, the work day on Sunday is gonna save you a lot of money. Wyatt can do the roof, Presley can help reorganize the storage, and Boone knows a guy who might be able to look at the cooler for cheaper. The point is, we’ll figure it out.”
“Why are you all doing this?”
“Because Mavis would have done the same for any of us. And honestly, she did, many a time. And because you’re trying, Eleanor. You’re showing up every day, working hard, caring about this place, and that matters.”
“Does it? Or am I just fumbling around pretending I know what I’m doing?”
“Honey, we’re all just fumbling around. That’s called life.” She pats my hand. “You’re doing better than you think, and you’re not alone, so stop trying to carry this all by yourself.”
After she leaves, I sit in the quiet office, surrounded by Mavis’s notebooks and the weight of the responsibility I’ve been given. I pull out my phone and look at my bank account.
$347 in checking.
That’s it. That’s all I have in the world, besides the bar account, which needs to cover payroll, supplies, utilities, and everything else.
I could put the cooler repair on my credit card, but I’m already close to maxed out, and if something else goes wrong, or when something else goes wrong, I’ll have nothing.
For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to just walk away. To sell this place to someone who actually knows what they’re doing. To go back to Atlanta and start over with whatever I can salvage.
But then I think about how kind Dolly is, and the dreams Presley has, and Wyatt’s steady presence, and the community that’s starting to feel like home.
I can’t walk away. Not yet. Not when people are willing to fight for this place, and not when I’m starting to think I might want to fight for it, too.
* * *
Sunday morning arrives quickly. I’m awake at 6 a.m., nervous and grateful, but completely unsure of what to expect.
Wyatt told me people would start showing up around 8, but the first truck pulls up at 7:30.
It’s Boone, and he’s brought three other people with him, all holding thermoses of coffee and wearing work clothes.
By 8 o’clock, there are twelve people in the bar. Twelve people who showed up on a Sunday morning to help me fix a place I’ve barely begun to figure out.
I stand there, overwhelmed and not sure what to say. I’ve never had a community around me. I always basically worked alone or with my mother.
Wyatt puts a hand on my shoulder. “Just say thank you and point us toward the coffee maker. We’ve got work to do.”
He takes charge with the easy authority of someone who’s done this before.
He assigns tasks, explains what to do and what needs to happen, and makes sure everyone has the tools they need.
I watch him work the crowd and understand, maybe for the first time, what a wonderful leader he must have been in the military.
“Eleanor,” he calls, waving me over. “You’re with me. We’re caulking the windows in the main room. They need to be sealed before winter.”
I follow him to the first window, where he’s already laid out the supplies. Caulk guns, tubes of sealant, rags, and painter’s tape.
“Okay,” he says, “first lesson in home repair. Have you ever caulked anything before?”
“I once paid a very nice man $300 to caulk my bathroom.”
He laughs. “Well, today you’re learning to do it yourself. Here, watch me.”
He loads a tube of caulk into the gun like a professional, cuts the tip at an angle, and then demonstrates on a small section of the window frame. His movements are smooth and precise, laying down a perfect bead of white sealant.
“See? Not that hard. Your turn.”
He hands me the caulk gun, his first mistake. It’s heavier than I expect, and the trigger is stiff. I position it against the window frame as he showed me and squeeze.
And then a giant glob of caulk erupts from the tip, completely missing the seam and landing on the windowsill in an ugly blob.
“Okay,” Wyatt says, trying not to laugh. “That’s a start, I suppose.”
“I’m terrible at this.”
“You’re learning. Try again. Slower this time, and keep steady pressure.”
I attempt it again. This time, I overcorrect, and barely anything comes out.
“Here,” Wyatt says, stepping behind me. “Like this.”
He puts his hands over mine on the caulk gun, guiding my movements. His chest is pressed against my back, and I can feel the warmth of him and smell a combination of cologne, coffee, and some other scent that is just Wyatt.
“Steady pressure,” he murmurs, his voice close to my ear. “Move at a consistent speed. There you go. You’ve got it.”
The caulk comes out in a perfect bead this time, smooth and even.
But I’m not paying a bit of attention to the caulk, because I’m acutely aware of every point at which his body is touching mine. His hands over mine, his breath on my neck, the solid presence of him behind me. This is very, very bad.
“See?” he says. “You’re a natural.”
He steps back, and I feel the loss immediately. I clear my throat, trying to focus on the window instead of the way my heart is racing.
“Okay. I can do this.”
“I know you can.”
We work side by side for the next hour, caulking windows. I do get better as I go, though I still make a mess more often than not. At one point, I get caulk in my hair, and Wyatt has to help me get it out with a rag and mineral spirits.
“How did you even do that?” he asks, carefully working caulk out of a strand of my hair. “The window is three feet away from your head.”
“I guess I’m just really unique.”
“Well, that’s one word for it.”
He’s smiling, and his fingers are gentle in my hair, and I think maybe unique isn’t the worst thing someone could call me.
By noon, we’ve made real progress. The windows are done. The storage area is looking more organized, thanks to Presley’s expertise. And a group of people I don’t even know are cleaning the kitchen, which didn’t really need to be done, but I’m thankful for it nonetheless.
Someone shouts that lunch is ready, and we all migrate outside, where a spread of food has materialized on folding tables. Casseroles and fried chicken and potato salad and biscuits and sweet tea, and about seventeen different kinds of dessert.
“Is there a potluck rule in Copper Creek that I don’t know about?” I ask Dolly, taking in the abundance of food.
“Honey, in the South, we don’t do anything without food. It’s basically a law.”
I fill a plate and find a spot on the ground, sitting cross-legged in the grass like I haven’t done since I was a child. Wyatt settles beside me, close enough that our shoulders are touching.
“You did good today,” he says.
“I got caulk everywhere and almost fell off a chair trying to clean a top shelf.”
“Well, you tried. That’s what matters.”
Across the way, Boone is telling a story that has everyone laughing.
Presley is sitting with two other women her age, animated and happy.
Dolly is moving through the groups like a queen holding court, making sure everyone has enough food and drink, and whatever else they need.
I guess she really is a server at heart.
And I’m sitting in the grass in my jeans that now have paint on them, eating potato salad with a plastic fork, surrounded by people I didn’t even know a month ago.
And I feel something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.
I feel like I belong.
For the first time in my life, I don’t care which side the fork is on. It’s plastic anyway, so my mother definitely wouldn’t approve.
“Can I ask you something?” a woman named Carol says, sitting down near us. I recognize her from the bar. She comes in on Fridays with her husband.
“Of course.”
“What do you think of Copper Creek so far?”
The question catches me off guard. Everyone stops talking and is looking at me, waiting for an answer.
“Well, it’s definitely different than anywhere I’ve been before, but I like it. The people have been very nice to me.”
“Your great-aunt was a smart woman,” Boone says. “She knew what she was doing when she left you this place.”
“Did you know her well?”
“Well enough. She was a straight shooter, didn’t suffer fools, and worked harder than anyone I ever met. But she also knew how to have fun. That was what she was best at. She knew how to make people feel welcome. And she knew the bar isn’t just about the drinks; it’s about the community.”
He takes a sip of his sweet tea.
“And she saw something in you, Eleanor. Something worth investing in. And Mavis didn’t invest in people she didn’t believe in.”
“I’m not sure I’ve lived up to that yet.”
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? That’s a start.”
The conversation drifts to other topics. Town gossip, upcoming events, somebody’s daughter who just had a baby, and has big ears, apparently. I mostly listen, soaking up the warmth of community and the easy way these people just exist together.
At one point, Dolly shares a story about her first marriage, how she left an abusive situation with nothing but a suitcase and $37.
“Came to Copper Creek because it was where the bus stopped when I ran out of money,” she says. “Thought I’d stay a few days, figure out my next move. Well, that was over thirty years ago.”
“What made you stay?” I ask.
“People gave me a chance when I didn’t deserve one.
Mavis hired me, even though I had no experience.
Gave me a place to live when I didn’t have anywhere to go.
This town saved my life.” She looks at me directly.
“Sometimes you’re meant to be in a place you hadn’t planned on.
Sometimes it’s just the place where people see you for who you are and decide that’s enough. ”
The words settle over me like a blanket.
Presley shares next, talking about her mother’s addiction, about being raised by her grandmother, and the constant fear that her mom would show up and disrupt her life.
“My grandmother died two years ago,” she says quietly. “And I thought about leaving. Maybe I’d go to Nashville and try to make it as a singer. But this town, well, the people here are my family. Blood doesn’t always make a family. Sometimes family is just who shows up.”
By the time we finish eating, I’ve heard at least a dozen stories of heartbreak and resilience. People who came to Copper Creek lost and then found themselves here.
It’s like the town is a magnet for broken people, and somehow, by being broken together, everyone becomes whole.
I think about my own brokenness, about the mother I could never please and the fiancé I never really loved, and the life I was living that felt like a performance.
And maybe Copper Creek is exactly where I needed to be.