Chapter Nine
Magnolia Nelson, answer your damn phone.
The dull ring of the call through my car’s speakers was drowning out my patience. If this woman didn’t pick up her—
“Hey, Scar, what’s up? How’s your first day going? Wait, isn’t it only like one in the afternoon? Why are you calling me already?”
“Holy shit. Thank god. I thought you weren’t going to answer,” I said, my words plowing through my lips. “You’re going to die.”
“Oh no. What?”
“Two things, actually.” I breathed in before releasing a long breath.
“My team? You know the one Donna was sure I’d just love?
I think she was very much misinformed, because while that team consists of Donna—who is lovely—and another younger girl named Moriah, who I think might have graduated a few years after us… ” I paused.
“Okay…”
“It also consists of fucking Delilah Boudreau and two of her little clones,” I huffed.
“You’re kidding me…”
“If only I was.”
“Why does she even have a job in the first place? I mean, I guess good for her, but it’s not like she needs it, and journalism doesn’t really strike me as her thing.”
“I don’t know,” I said dramatically. “I could care less if journalism is her thing or not, but what I do care about is that I was so excited about this job and now I have to spend my days listening to her. That sounds miserable. Ugh.”
“Okay, I know this blows. But you can’t let it get in the way of this great opportunity. Also, I can’t imagine Delilah is one to stick to a nine-to-five, so here’s hoping her hours are sporadic.”
“We can only hope,” I agreed.
Maggie’s words urged the tension in my shoulders to release as one of my hands fell from the steering wheel into my lap.
“And the second thing?” she asked.
Her question reminded me that I’d almost forgotten the best part. “Are you at The Wheel?” I asked.
“I am!”
“Well, I’m headed your way, because this girl landed her first writing job. I’m writing a piece on The Wheel celebrating fifty years!”
“Scar, that’s amazing! I’m proud of you. Did you know you were going to be writing right away?”
“No. I sort of assumed I’d do random stuff around the office, but when I showed up this morning, Donna told me she wanted me to write. I’m thrilled, and to have my first piece be about The Wheel… It feels kind of symbolic.”
“It feels perfect. I’m happy for you,” she said, and I could hear her smile through the phone.
“Thanks, Mags,” I said. “Oh, is Wilson there by any chance? I’m hoping to chat with him for a bit, but if not, I can just chat with some of the customers and you.”
“He’s not right now, but he said he’d be in around one thirty, so you should catch him.”
“Even better. All right, I’m gonna call my mom and dad and let them know the good news, but I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“See you soon!”
“That’s amazing, sweetheart. You know we’re proud of you, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, of course I do, Mom,” I replied. “But I just pulled into The Wheel, so I’ll call later.”
“Please do. We can’t wait to hear how it goes, and you know we’ll be the first ones to buy a copy of the article as soon as it’s out.”
“Thanks, Dad. I love you both. Talk soon.”
“Bye, honey. We love you,” they said in unison.
I thought I was never going to get them off the phone, but I also didn’t mind, because I was so excited to finally share the news.
They’d never say so, but I always figured they’d hoped I had taken the job in Chicago despite the whole wedding situation—or really just taken a job somewhere besides Quincey Falls.
But we all knew I wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t.
I scanned my reflection in the driver’s window of my Jeep, tucking a flyaway behind my ear before cutting through the parking lot, doing my best not to kick up dirt onto my boots. I wanted to look my best, like a professional.
The Wheel was one of three bars in all of Quincey Falls, and it had been around the longest by a longshot. The worn-out building made entirely of timber sat on the corner off Main, smack dab in the middle of a dirt parking lot.
The yellow, orange, and white neon sign perched on top could be seen while standing in nearly every part of town. The rodeo cowboy sat high up on a bucking bronco, one hand gripped on to the reins while the other danced in the air, holding on to a cowboy hat. “The Wheel” sat just below it.
The color, once a rich oak—from what I’d seen in pictures—now resembled an aged tree that’d stood the test of time.
The muted brown lacked vibrancy, but it most definitely didn’t lack character.
The building had a wrap-around porch, situated with four rocking chairs.
A few strands of lights dangled overhead, illuminating the entry in gleaming yellow at night.
The old wooden door creaked open as I pushed my way through, immediately getting smacked in the face by the stench of stale beer, burnt cigarettes, and cleaning products.
“Oof. Not sure I’ll ever get used to that smell,” I muttered under my breath.
Or so I thought.
“Smells like tradition, memories, and some damn good times, doesn’t it?” Wilson piped up from behind the L-shaped wooden bar equipped with at least ten metal barstools.
My hand flung up to my chest. “Shit. Wilson, you scared me!”
Wilson Williams was basically an institution around town. He was old. I didn’t know how old, but I knew he was older than my parents. He and George were good buds, practically brothers, so I just assumed he was around the same age.
“Sorry, darlin’,” he said, standing to his feet. “Well, I’ll be damned. Scarlett Carson in the flesh. Didn’t know when we’d see you back in here, and now you’re a big-shot, working at the Tribune and don’t need us little folks anymore.” Thankfully, his face was saturated with sarcasm.
“Very funny. I’m happy to help you out whenever you need. The Wheel will always be my most favorite place to work, you know that.”
“I know. I just have to give you a little shit, that’s all.” He pulled the rag from his shoulder and started wiping down the bar top. “What can I do for ya?”
“I don’t know if Maggie told you or not, but—”
“I told him about your new gig but hadn’t seen him since we chatted. Sorry, the liquor delivery showed up right after we got off the phone.” Maggie’s voice filled the space behind Wilson.
“Whatcha gotta tell me?”
I plopped down on one of the squeaky barstools, the seat squishier than I remembered.
“So, this job as a big-shot you speak of… Well, I have my first assignment…” I smirked.
“Donna wants me to do a piece on the fiftieth anniversary of The Wheel. She’s hoping I can get it done and have it ready for print in about two weeks, that way it comes out right before the big hoorah. ”
The lines on Wilson’s weathered face softened. “That’s really neat. I’m honored that Donna thinks this place deserves a spot in the paper, and even more honored that you’re the one writing it.”
“Are you kidding? I’m honored. This place is legend at this point. I just hope I’m able to do it justice,” I said.
A flutter of nerves swam up my throat.
I’d been so excited about the assignment that I’d forgotten the nerves that came along with said assignment. I’d always been a writer. It was my thing. Sometimes poems. Sometimes lyrics. Sometimes articles. Sometimes just journal entries. But always something.
“You’ll do great, Scarlett. You know this place almost as well as I do. I couldn’t have picked a better person to share its history than you,” he said.
“Thanks, Wilson.”
His genuine demeanor and kind words settled my nervousness, at least momentarily.
“I’m gonna go do inventory. Scar, let me know if or when you need me.”
“Sounds good.”
Wilson chimed in, “Thanks, Magnolia. Let me know if you need help with anything.”
I swiveled my barstool in his direction.
“I’d love chat with you for a bit if you have some time? Ask a few questions. I’ll probably do some interviews with customers too, and then I was hoping to grab quotes from the staff, if that’s okay?”
“Have at it. I’ve got about thirty minutes now, but you know, I’m always around. As for everything else, you have my permission to do what you please. You just gotta promise me one thing…”
“And what’s that?” I smirked, placing my chin on the palm of my hand that rested on the bar top.
“I need you to make me look real pretty when you take my picture.”
“Ha. I can absolutely make sure you look as handsome in your picture as you do in real life,” I said.
“You’re gonna make this old man blush.” He chuckled as he stepped closer to where I was sitting.
He reached his hand across the bar and placed it on mine, his callouses rough against my skin.
“But in all seriousness, just promise me you’ll do this place justice.
” He sighed, hugging our hands together.
“This building isn’t just an old smelly bar that’s been here for half a century; it’s a lifeline.
It’s the feeling of walking into a room and seeing it filled to the brim with people you love.
It’s the feeling of coming in on a lonely night after a heartbreak and finding a friend in the bartender.
It’s the feeling of losing someone near and dear to you and being able to relive your best memories with them by simply walking through the door.
But most importantly, it’s knowing that no matter what you’re feeling, you’ve always got a seat at this bar. ”
“Damn, Wilson. That was perfect,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze back. “I don’t even know if I need to ask you anything else after that. You flawlessly put into words everything this place is. You sure you don’t want to write this article?” I smiled.
“I’m sure. I can talk the talk, but I can’t write the write, so I’ll leave that one up to you.”
“I promise I’ll do it justice. Everyone will know how special this place is by the time I’m done.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, patting my hand before going back to messing with things behind the bar. “What else you wanna know?”
“I think I know quite a bit of the history already, but I just want to fact check everything to make sure I get it right. I’m gonna rattle off some things, and you tell me if I’ve got anything wrong.”
He nodded in agreement.
“You opened this place in your early twenties?”
“Yep. Twenty-one to be exact.”
“And you’re the one and only owner?”
“Just me, myself, and I,” he said, flashing his million-dollar smile.
“Have you ever thought about selling? I bet this place would be worth a pretty penny.”
“Not even once. This place is priceless. Someone could offer me a million dollars and I’d have to turn them down. Money could never buy everything that’s built into these walls. That kind of stuff is invaluable.”
“I mean this next question with the utmost respect, but you’re someone who’s had a few trips around the sun; what do you hope happens to this place when you’re gone?” I asked.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I have a few ideas, but nothing is set in stone. I guess at the end of the day, I just want this place to stay exactly how it is for as long as it can. That would be my hope,” he responded, his voice filled with a hint of anguish.
“I have no doubt that will happen. There isn’t one person in this town who would let your legacy die with you. I can promise you that too.”
“Hey now, I’m not dying anytime soon.”
“I know, I know. I’m just sayin’,” I said, throwing my hands up in defeat. “Thanks, Wilson. I’m sure I’ll have more questions, but that gives me a good start. I can’t wait to get goin’ on this. Whenever I’m done, I’ll be sure to let you look it over before anything is sent out.”
“Thanks, darlin’, I can’t wait to get my hands on it.”
I stood, grabbing my purse from next to me. “I’ll keep you posted on everything. Can you let Maggie know that I’ll chat with her later? I want to go back to the office and get started.”
“Of course. Like I said, let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do. Thanks again.”
He tipped his black suede cowboy hat and threw a wink in my direction.