Page 2 of The Pretenders of Copper County
“Chris!” Van yelled a second before I felt a distinct dampness around my ankles.
“Huh?” I blinked down to find that I’d overfilled Mrs. Graber’s glass by an ounce or two… or twenty… and the excess had run all over the bar and down my jeans. “Oh, shoot. Oh,frick. Oh, mother-clucking cluckballs. I’m so sorry, Van.” I mopped off the lower counter of the bar with a rag and then crouched to mop at the floor. “I, uh… I…”
“Got distracted?” Mrs. Graber suggested from somewhere above me. “Again?”
“Yeah,” I admitted.
“Never mind,” Van said. “We’ll clean it up later.”
I continued mopping aggressively.
“Chris,” Van sighed in the fond but slightly despairing tone I’d become familiar with. “Leave it. In fact, come on back to the office with me. I need to talk to you.”
I stood and swallowed hard, not meeting anyone’s eyes as I followed Van through the swinging door to the stockroom and then to his office.
Was I being fired? I’d never been fired before. Of course, that might have been because myonly paying job had been working for Uncle Danny at the Cellar—the wine and cheese shop that had once belonged to my nonna.
Danny hadn’t seemed too upset that I was occasionally—not often, swear to gosh, just on one or two teeny, tiny, inconsequential occasions—distracted or unobservant. I was a hard worker, he often said. Averyhard worker.
Then again, when Uncle Danny had retired last spring, he’d decided to sell the shop rather than let me run it, which wasn’t exactly a vote of confidence, so?—
“Lord, I have never needed a vacation more than I do right now,” Van muttered. He closed the office door behind us, dropped into the desk chair with a groan, and motioned toward the spindly chair in front of the desk. “Take a load off.”
“Please don’t fire me, Van,” I said in a rush. “I know I get distracted sometimes. I can do better. Iwilldo better. I?—”
“Relax, kiddo. I’m not firing you,” Van said.
“You’re not?” Relief had me collapsing into the chair.
“Hell no. For one thing, I like you. Customers love you. You’re a hoot.”
I wasn’t sure how to take that, so I nodded.
“For another,” Van went on, “your uncle would use my balls as bait if I fired his precious nephew while he was on his fishing sabbatical.” Wrinkles creased his tanned face as he smiled. “Don’t suppose you’ve heard from him recently?”
I shook my head and pushed up my glasses. “Not once since he left. I mean, not on the phone or anything. He’s sent me a couple postcards, though. Remember I showed you the one with the bluefin tuna, maybe a week and a half ago? He, uh, he did warn me that he wouldn’t have any cell service where he was going, and he can only get thepostcards out when the resupply planes come by, so…” I shrugged. “I still post pictures a couple times a week on my private Instagram. Someday, when he gets service, he’ll be able to catch up on all the stuff I’m doing.”
“All the stuff,” Van agreed with a little smile. He linked his hands behind his head. “You still worry about him, don’t you? I’m sure he’s fine, kiddo.”
“Yeah! No, yeah, of course he is. Uncle Danny’s really strong, and the doctor cleared him to travel almost right away after his heart procedure. I bet he’s having a ton of fun. But I, ah… I guess I didn’t know he’d be gone quite this long? He didn’t really specify, and you know how much he hates it when I ask him a bunch of questions, and I… I miss him, that’s all.” I rubbed my palms over my jeans and joked, “I’m feeling a little short in the family department temporarily.” Even my cousin Nicky had gone radio silent since I left New Jersey.
Not that I’d expected him to call—or even particularly wanted him to, all things considered— but still.
For half a second, when Van inhaled, he looked almost angry, but his expression cleared so quickly I was sure I’d imagined it. “Well, the good news is you’re welcome to stay with me for as long as you like.” He sat forward. “In fact, you’ve got the house to yourself for the next couple weeks. I’m heading to Portland for the Brew Fest, and then I’m taking a quick camping trip before leaf-peeping season really gets going around here. I took you off the schedule, too.” He nodded to the paper spreadsheet taped to the wall.
“You did?” I blinked. “But… why? Is it because of the spill? Because I really will clean it?—”
Van waved my words away. “It’s not that. It’s that… Chris, how long have you been on your own since Danny left? And how many places have you explored?”
“Around here?” I frowned. “I guess not a lot? But I’m here to work, Van?—”
“And you do, kiddo. You do. But did you ever think maybe part of the reason you’re so distracted is ’cause you… well, you ain’t got much of a life outside of work and home?”
“Uh.” I pondered this for a second. “No? I also make charcuterie boards for the Hookers and the PTA meetings sometimes, and I helped out at the orchard a couple times too. I know lots about apple varietals—Uncle Danny taught me a lot about gardening, and pollinators like butterflies and bees, and hybridization—and it turns out keeping an orchard’s notsodifferent from gardening. Oh, and I helped decorate for the town fair. Ms. Fortnum said I was really good at hanging bunting?—”
Van shook his head. “This is worse than I thought. Kiddo, what have you done that’sfun? You’re young. You need to get out and see the world. Run with the wrong crowd for a while. Let folks get to know you. Make some friends.”
“I have friends,” I protested. But that wasn’t really true. I’d made a lot of acquaintances in the Hollow, but no one I really hung out with. No one who called me up and asked me over for dinner. To be honest, I’d never really been good at having those kinds of friends—the couple of times I’d thought I’d found one in the past, they’d sort of drifted away, and Uncle Danny said family was more important than friends, anyway.
