Chapter 20 #2
I have a confession to make. This was never really about the bar.
I mean, the bar matters, don’t get me wrong.
It’s been my life, my life’s work, my greatest joy, the place where I found myself after leaving Atlanta all those years ago.
But I could have left it to anyone. I could have sold it and donated the money to charity.
I could have left it to the church outright.
I left it to you because I wanted to give you what no one else ever gave me. Permission to fail.
Your mother, my sister’s daughter, was raised the same way I was. Taught that perfection was the only acceptable outcome, that mistakes were something to be ashamed of, that showing weakness was the greatest sin of all. I escaped that world, but your mother embraced it, and she passed it on to you.
I watched that from a distance, Eleanor.
All those years, I watched. I saw a little girl who grew tomatoes in secret because her mother thought gardening was beneath her.
I saw the young woman who gave up her dreams to run her mother’s business.
I saw a polished, perfect exterior and the loneliness underneath.
And then I thought, she needs what I found. She needs Copper Creek. And if I don’t help her, she’s never going to find it on her own.
Here’s the part I haven’t told you yet.
She also needed Wyatt Rivers.
I stop reading, catching my breath, my throat tight.
Yep, I planned that too. Or I hoped for it, at least.
I’ve known Wyatt since he came back from Afghanistan, broken and lost and convinced he could never be whole again.
And I watched him rebuild himself, piece by piece.
I saw the man he was becoming, kind, steady, loyal.
And I saw how alone he was, how he’d closed himself off after Laney left, how he’d convinced himself he didn’t deserve love.
Two broken people, I thought. Two people who’ve been taught that they’re not enough. So what if I put them in the same place and let nature take its course?
It was a gamble. You might have hated each other. You might have sold the bar on day one and gone back to Atlanta without ever even giving Copper Creek a chance. But I had a feeling.
Call it intuition, or meddling, or the instinct of a woman who’s watched a lot of love stories unfold in that bar over the last almost forty years.
I knew you’d be good for each other. I knew you’d challenge each other, frustrate each other, and push each other. And I hoped you’d see what I saw. Two people who fit together like puzzle pieces, filling in each other’s empty spaces.
If I was right, if you and Wyatt have found your way to each other, then I die happy. Truly happy. Because I didn’t just save my bar. I saved two people I love, even if I never met one of them.
And if I was wrong, if you’re reading this and thinking, Wyatt Rivers, that stubborn, infuriating man, well then, I do apologize for meddling. But somehow I don’t think I was wrong.
Take care of him, Eleanor. Take care of the bar. Take care of yourself, most of all.
And remember what I told you before.
You can be graceless and still be loved.
You can fail and still be worthy.
You can let that mask slip once in a while and discover that the person underneath is someone worth knowing.
You are enough. You always were.
All my love, now and forever,
Mavis
P.S. The bourbon in the barbecue sauce was always the secret.
But the real secret is love. Love is the same way.
It’s not one ingredient that makes it work.
It’s everything mixed together, given time to develop into something rich and beautiful.
Be patient with yourself and each other. The best things take time.
I’m crying before I finish the first page, and by the end, I can barely see the words through my tears. She knew it and planned it. She saw two broken people and decided to give them a chance to heal each other. And it worked.
“Ms. Whitfield?” Harlan’s voice is gentle. “You all right?”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, laughing. “She’s impossible. Even gone, she’s absolutely impossible.”
“That was Mavis,” he says with a smile. “Three steps ahead of everyone else, always.”
I fold the letter carefully and put it back in the envelope, then tuck it into my purse, close to my heart, where I’ll carry it always.
“Thank you, Harlan, for everything.”
“Thank Mavis. She’s the one who believed in you.”
He stands and extends his hand. “Welcome to Copper Creek, Ms. Whitfield. Officially and permanently.”
I shake his hand and then surprise us both by pulling him into a hug. “She was lucky to have you,” I say.
“We were lucky to have each other,” he replies, patting my back awkwardly. “Now go on. I believe there’s a young man waiting for you outside who will want to hear about this.”
* * *
I find Wyatt leaning against his truck, his arms crossed, watching the door.
“Well?” he says as I approach.
I don’t even answer with words. I just walk straight into his arms and hold on tight.
“That good, huh?”
“She planned it,” I say into his chest. “All of it. She knew about us before we even met.”
“What are you talking about?”
I pull back and look at him. “Mavis. She left me another letter. She said she saw two broken people who needed each other and decided to put us together in the same place and see what happened.”
He’s quiet for a moment, processing this new information. Then a slow smile spreads across his face.
“That crafty old woman.”
“The craftiest. So we were just puppets in her grand scheme.”
“Apparently.”
I reach up and touch his face. “Do you mind?”
“Mind that the woman who saved my life also managed to guide me to the love of my life?” He turns his head and kisses my palm. “No, Eleanor, I don’t mind at all.”
He pulls me close and kisses me softly, right there on Main Street in front of Harlan’s office, where anyone walking by can see.
I don’t care. Let them see. Let the whole town talk.
I’m home.