Page 5 of Christmas Rings

Marsh? Was he the owner of the distillery? “Stirred or shaken?” Alissa asked at the same time Millie pranced over to the side of the stage directly in front of Marsh’s table and shook everything. Great timing, Alissa thought. She must not have been the only one who noticed the symmetry of word and action. Everyone but Marsh tittered as Millie lifted a red cowgirl-boot-clad leg and shimmied around a pole.

“Shaken, please.” Denim Eyes’ cheeks had turned brightred. Or, Mr. Marsh, she thought. He shifted in his chair and scratched behind his ear as he looked away from the stage.

“Olives or twists?” Alissa asked.

“I like them dirty, as dirty as they come,” Gray Hair said before whipping his head back to the stage where Gayle was making her entrance in a naughty nurse outfit to the tune of “Hurts So Good.”

“Twist for me, please,” Marsh said, not meeting Alissa’s gaze.

The other two asked for olives, without the sexual innuendo.

Alissa scurried off to the bar. Rif tended bar on Friday nights, along with Marty, a crusty former sailor who Alissa adored.

“Four Marsh martinis, up. One with a twist, the other three with olives. One dirty.”

“You got it, little lady,” Marty said. He was the type who could call a womanlittle ladyand get away with it—at least with her. He was from a different time, so Alissa cut him some slack. Her sisters Stevie and Jo would not have. They had no patience for that kind of thing.

Rif set a pitcher of beer on the counter.

“See that table?” she said, indicating with a slight nudge toward Marsh and his friends. “Do you know him? The young, cute one?”

“Sure. That’s Jed Marsh. Of Marsh Vodka,” Rif said. “He comes in during the day usually—just to do business. I’ve never seen him here at night.”

“I got the feeling he’s entertaining clients,” Alissa said. “And that he’s not thrilled to be here.”

“He’s a straight-and-narrow type of guy,” Rif said. “His old man runs the show but supposedly the business will be passed down to him in the next few years.”

While the guys fixed the drinks, she took the pitcher of beer to a table of men who looked like they belonged in afraternity house. By the time she returned, Rif had four martinis on a platter for her.

“Marsh hasn’t taken his eyes off you,” Rif said.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Be careful,” Rif said. “His mother’s the dragon lady. Runs off every woman he’s ever met.”

“How do you know?” Alissa asked.

“He’s been selling me vodka for a long time,” Rif said. “We talk, you know, how men do. I complain about my wife. He complains about his mother. Good man, that one, but his old man’s a real piece of work. Throw the mother in there and no wonder he’s single.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Not that I’m available or anything.”

“You’re not?” Rif asked.

“Who dates a girl that works in a place like this?” Alissa asked.

Rif clutched the front of his shirt. “I’m hurt.”

“You know what I mean,” she said. “Look at this outfit. Am I the type you take home to mama?”

“You’re a kindergarten teacher,” Marty said.

“By day,” Alissa said. “But at night I’m a cocktail waitress in a questionable club.” She grinned to let them know she was teasing. Kind of, anyway.

“Off with you,” Rif said. “I’ve had enough of your sassy mouth.”

Here’s what Alissa had learned during her tenure at the club. People, like Rif and Marty—good people—were in all walks of life. One didn’t have to be a pastor to be a good person. In fact, one’s profession had nothing to do with the compassion of one’s heart. Maddie had always taught them to be openminded, to remember that it was not a human’s right to judge another. That right was reserved for God. This lesson had been hammered into Alissa’s consciousness since the first night she put on her waitress uniform and met someof the other girls. Before this experience, she might have judged them for their choice of work. Not now. She liked this about herself, that she could see below the surface of a thing and understand that life was complicated. One’s journey was not always the straight path one wished it to be. There were boulders that crushed, mountains to climb, rivers to cross.

We were survivors, she’d often thought over the years. The experiences of her sisters and Maddie were proof. What she and her sisters had survived, prior to Maddie making them a family, had changed them, marked them forever. Yet, all the good and bad mingled together to form the complex, phenomenal women they all were.

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