Chapter 27 Little Boxes
Little Boxes
Morgan listened to Franco’s instructions.
All bottled beer, eight bucks, regardless of brand.
Same for a glass of house wine. No spirits, no matter how much anyone begged.
Ten bucks for a half dozen wings. Cash only.
He handed her a bottle opener and instructed that all bottles had to be opened at the bar. She nodded. How hard could it be?
Heidi, having told Franco she was a bartender by trade, was already serving customers, laughing as someone tried to put one over on her by saying the beer was five bucks. She seemed at home behind the bar, taking cash from one customer while picking out the next in line and taking their order.
“Hey,” a woman with a pixie cut waved a hand in front of Morgan’s face. “I asked for IPA, not wheat beer.”
“Sorry,” Morgan muttered. Lucky she hadn’t opened the bottle yet. She replaced it in the fridge. Which was the IPA? She looked around for Franco.
“Whatcha looking for?” Heidi paused in her whirl.
“IPA.”
“Bottom shelf. Green and white label.”
“Thanks.” How did Heidi know that already? She grabbed a bottle and returned to her customer.
She hit the button on the till for cash sale, but the drawer didn’t open.
Should she enter it again, or would that mess up the totals?
She snagged Franco’s arm as he whirled past, and without even looking, he hit the top of the drawer with a closed fist and it sprang open.
Morgan put in the money, took out the change, handed it over, then moved on to the next customer.
By the time the next two volunteers showed up, she was getting the hang of it.
“Your drinks.” Franco poured two outsize glasses of wine. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Heidi said.
“If you mean it, there’s no one down for the thirty minutes after this one.”
“Sure, I can do that.” Heidi thumped his shoulder. “It’ll be a pleasure after the Fly Inn.”
“You obviously know what you’re doing,” Franco said. “Are you the manager there?”
“No.” Heidi rolled her eyes. “But I do a lot of the admin and training of newbies—not that any of them last more than a week.”
Franco clapped her on the back. “Well, lucky me today. See you in half an hour.”
A small table became vacant, and they hurried over to claim it.
“You did good,” Heidi said. “If you ever get sick of being a financial advisor, you could get a job as a bartender.”
Morgan stared at her. Those words were uncomfortably close to the truth. She took a gulp of wine. “Maybe I will. I’m sure there’s worse jobs.” She focused on Heidi. “Worst job you ever had?”
“Strangely, that would be direct wine salesperson in Melbourne. I went around to private parties—hens, bucks, birthdays, and so on—gave a spiel, and a free wine tasting. The idea was that people would then love our overpriced wine and buy big. Spoiler alert: They never did, and no wonder. There was better and cheaper wine around in the big bottle shops. I lasted two weeks. What about you?”
The words rose up in her throat: my last job.
She pushed them down. That would lead to questions she didn’t want to answer.
“I worked as a grocery store clerk in college. That was bad. You had to stand in one place and scan groceries, and the customers would often get irritated if you were too slow. I lasted three weeks.”
“Heidi!” The shout came from the bar. “Don’t suppose you can start early?”
She gave a thumbs up. “Sorry,” she said to Morgan. “Duty calls. Come with me, and I’ll get you a glass of wine first.” She nodded at Morgan’s nearly empty glass.
Morgan followed. What else was there to do?
~ ~ ~
Franco gave her an even bigger glass of wine at the end of her time, as well as a second one.
“For Morgan. Thanks, Heidi. You’re the best. I know you said you have a job, but if you ever want to work closer to home, drop in and apply.
We’ve no openings right now, but you know what it’s like: People move on all the time. ”
“I’ll do that. I’d love to work here. I’ve worked bar most of my life, including a couple of assistant manager positions.”
“I’m the manager, so find me to apply. I can hire and fire. The absentee owners are somewhere in Montana raising cattle.”
“It’s like a cattle press here today, so I get the connection.”
“Yeah, not so different, especially at closing time: getting big beasts to where they don’t want to be.”
“I better go find Morgan.”
“Girlfriend?” Franco asked.
“Roommate.”
“Sorry, my bad. I thought you had girlfriend vibes.”
Heidi gave a small smile and picked up the glasses.
“I better get back to her.” One part of her wanted to know more about those “girlfriend vibes.” But maybe Franco was just doing the opposite of what he thought.
Sapphic couples were still often taken to be sisters or friends.
Maybe he was making very sure he wasn’t presuming.
Whatever. It was good to know Oscar’s Tavern was a welcoming place.
She glanced around, seeking Morgan. She wasn’t where she’d last seen her, nor was she at the shuffleboard or pool tables.
Then she spotted her, talking with a dark-haired woman.
The woman wore jeans and a ribbed Henley, but, despite the casual clothes, something set her apart.
As if she had accidentally wandered into the bar and wasn’t sure what to do now that she was here.
She toyed with an empty wineglass, but she was leaning forward to hear what Morgan was saying.
Heidi hesitated. Was Morgan flirting? Had she met a friend?
Did she want to be rescued? Morgan was sitting on the barstool as if she were in a Zoom meeting, and there was a slight smile on her face.
Professional smile. Then the woman turned, and Heidi saw her face.
It was Morgan’s work colleague, Manuela, the one they’d bumped into in the Park Grille a few weeks back.
Heidi went across and set down the wine. “Hey, roomie. The wine’s for you from Franco.”
“Thanks.” Some of Morgan’s stiffness evaporated. So maybe she did need rescuing. “You remember Manuela?”
“I do,” Heidi said. “Heidi. I’m Morgan’s roommate.”
A flicker of a frown crossed Manuela’s forehead. “I didn’t know Morgan lived with anyone.”
“It suits both of us,” Heidi said. “Are you two talking work? I’ll leave you to it, if that’s the case.”
“No way.” Morgan’s laugh had a strained edge to it. “No office talk after hours, right, Manuela?”
Manuela nodded. “But since Heidi mentioned it, how is it going for you, Morgan? Have you found—”
Morgan surged to her feet. “Heidi, didn’t you say we had to be back for a video chat with your sister? We’ll need to hurry.”
Heidi gaped for a second. The excuse was patently a lie, even to Manuela, who was now staring at Morgan with eyebrows raised.
What had she been about to say that Morgan didn’t want Heidi to hear?
Some work secret-squirrel stuff? But they used to work together.
And Morgan worked somewhere new now. Somewhere she could work from home.
“Have you found,” Manuela had said. Have you found what?
The pieces came together like a Jenga tower.
And now Manuela had pulled out a foundation block, and Morgan’s tower was wobbling.
“You’re right,” she said smoothly. “I forgot about the chat with Fiona. She’s looking forward to meeting you.” She slung an arm around Morgan’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of her forehead. “I think you’re on to us,” she said to Manuela. “We’re a bit more than roomies.”
Morgan leaned into Heidi’s side, and a slight tremor ran through her shoulders. Was she pissed that Heidi had said that?
Morgan drank a couple of mouthfuls of wine and stood. “It was nice seeing you again, Manuela. We still need to have that lunch. I’ll call you.”
From the way she’d said it, Heidi guessed there was no way she would. “Bye, Manuela. It was nice to see you again.”
“You too, Heidi. Bye, Morgan.” Her forehead wrinkled and her mouth opened, as if to ask a question.
Heidi dropped Morgan’s arm but grasped her hand and tugged her away.
There was no way Morgan would want to answer questions.
Together, they wended their way out to the quiet street.
Lights from the bar illuminated the snowy scene.
It had to have snowed again while they’d been inside, as fresh snow partially filled the footprints along the sidewalk.
Only a couple of tire tracks marked the pristine snow on the road.
Heidi’s mind buzzed as pieces tumbled, rotated, and clicked into place.
She and Morgan had to talk.