Page 33 of Daddy's Naughty Bartender
"Who filed the complaint?" Jason's voice is deadly quiet.
"Officially? Anonymous. Unofficially?" Linda meets my eyes. "Betty Henderson. She's had it out for you since you refused to donate to her campaign last year. Her husband still has his eyes set on buying the bar and turning into a wing joint. This is just the excuse she needed."
"What do I do?"
"Show up tonight. Both of you. Face them head-on. Make it clear that your personal life has no bearing on your professional capabilities." She squeezes my hand. "And, Karen? Don't you dare let them shame you. You've done nothing wrong. I’ll send out a text. The Naughty Girls will come support you."
After Linda leaves, I sink onto the couch, overwhelmed. Jason sits beside me, solid and steady.
"I can go back to Chicago," he says quietly. "If my presence is making things worse?—"
"No." The word comes out fierce. "Don't you dare. That's what they want. For me to give up the first good thing I've had in years because it makes them uncomfortable."
"Even if it costs you the bar?"
"It won't." I find steel in my spine, the same steel that carried me through Mark's death. "I've run that place impeccably for five years. They have no grounds except gossip and judgment."
"And if they don't care about grounds?"
"Then I'll fight." I meet his eyes. "I'm done letting fear run my life. Done apologizing for finding happiness. Done pretending I don't need what you give me."
"That's my brave girl." He pulls me close. "We'll face them together. Show them that Karen Mitchell doesn't back down from bullies."
"What about the kids?"
"We'll talk to them. Really talk. Help them understand." He kisses my temple. "Emily's scared of losing the mother she knows. Josh is trying to protect you the only way he knows how. But underneath, they want you to be happy. We just need to show them that happiness doesn't diminish who you are. Change is hard on people."
"You sound very sure."
"I am sure. About you. About us. About weathering this storm." His arms tighten around me. "I told you, baby. I don't run when things get hard. Not from you. Never from you."
That night, I stand before the town council in my best business suit, Jason steady beside me. The room is packed because there is nothing Prairie Harbor loves more than drama.
Betty Henderson sits in the front row, smug satisfaction written across her face. Behind her, I see the Naughty Girls, my staff from the bar, and surprisingly, both my children.
"Ms. Mitchell," the council president begins, "we've received concerning reports about conduct at The Gathering Place?—"
"Bullshit!" Susie's voice rings out. "Sorry for the language, but that's what this is. I've worked at that bar for five years. Never seen anything inappropriate."
"Ms. Patterson, you'll have your chance to speak?—"
"I'll speak now." Barbara stands, all seventy-two years of her radiating authority. "Karen Mitchell saved that bar when her husband died. Turned it from a failing dive into the heart of this community. And now you want to punish her for finding love again?"
"This isn't about her personal life," Betty interjects. "It's about maintaining law and order. We do not allow lewd behavior in public in this town. That’s not what we stand for. This is about community standards?—"
"Standards?" Elizabeth stands too. "Like the standard of judging women for being human? For having needs? For choosing a partner who treats them well?"
One by one, people stand to defend me. Regular customers, fellow business owners, people whose lives have touched mine over the years. Even Dale Morrison speaks up, praising both my business acumen and Jason's professional reputation.
But it's Emily who makes me cry.
"My mom," she says, voice shaking but determined, "is the strongest person I know. She held our family together when Dad died. Built a business. Raised us right. And if she's found someone who makes her smile again? Who sees how amazing she is? Then shame on all of you for trying to take that away." Tears sting my eyes when she is done speaking. I’m shaking when I stand up.
"May I speak?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. The council president nods, and I take a deep breath, finding Jason's hand with mine. "The Gathering Place isn't just a bar. It's Mark Mitchell's dream made real. When my husband was dying, he made me promise to keep it alive. Not just the business, but the heart of it. The place where people come to celebrate and grieve, to find community and comfort."
I pause, looking around the room at faces I've known for years. "For five years, I've poured everything into honoringthat promise. I've served your drinks, listened to your stories, celebrated your joys, and mourned your losses. This bar has been my anchor, my purpose, my way of keeping Mark's memory alive."
My voice catches, but I push through. "But here's what I've learned. I’ve learned honoring the dead doesn't mean joining them. Mark loved me with his whole heart. He wanted me happy, not just surviving. He'd be the first to tell me that loving again doesn't diminish what we had. It proves it. It proves that love is worth the risk, worth the pain, worth opening your heart even when you know how much it can hurt to lose."
