Page 94 of Steadfast
“If he can get it cheaply enough. My uncles are worried that he’ll overpay. They keep telling him how hard it is to make money running a bar. But I think they just don’t want the competition.”
Audrey whistled. “Ouch.”
“Right? At least I’m not the one everybody’s mad at this month. Becoming an unwed mother is old news now, I guess.”
“Does the place need a lot of renovation?” Griff asked.
“Yes and no. Alec has big plans for the building. He wants to make himself a big apartment upstairs. That will take a lot of labor. But apparently just getting the bar up and running won’t be such a big deal. They won’t serve food, so they don’t need a functioning kitchen.”
“Just a liquor license and a pool table,” May suggested.
“Works for me,” Griff agreed. “We’ll be his first customers.”
“Zara, would you jump ship and work for him?” Audrey asked.
Zara shook her head. “I don’t think I could work for Alec. We’d kill each other. The only reason I can manage my uncles’ place is that Uncle Bill never shows up. Though he’s going to have to in the springtime.” She rubbed her belly.
“How’ve you been feeling?” May asked.
“Can’t complain. I’ve stopped feeling nauseous, which really helps. The baby is kicking me right now. Want to feel?”
May got up and stood by Zara, putting a hand to her round belly. “Omigod. That’s so cool. I think she’s doing yoga in there.”
“Who says it’s a girl?” Griff demanded.
“Who says it’s not?” Audrey challenged, giving her man a big, teasing smile.
He gave her a hot look, and I had to look away. Those two had what Sophie and I used to have—love, passion and the promise of more to come.
“So, Jude?” Zachariah said quietly from a couple seats away.
He was a soft-spoken guy, so I had to strain to hear him. “What’s up, Zach?”
“I went up to Marker Motors to order some parts last week, and I heard Marker say he was looking for a body guy.”
“Did he, now?”
“Yeah. He was grumbling about his guy moving away to get married. Marker’s a good dude, too. I like ’im.”
“Do you know him well?” I had to ask. “If I just walked in there and filled out an application, I’d never get a call.”
“Why not?” asked Dylan Shipley.
“My resume is pretty shaky,” I said, which made a few people laugh. “Seriously, though. There’s always a box to check that asks if you’ve been convicted of a crime. You check that box, nobody calls you back. The end.”
Griffin refilled his girlfriend’s wine glass, a thoughtful expression on his face. “What if we all had to confess the worst thing we’d ever done to the people we meet—the meanest thing you ever said or the most careless you’ve ever been?” He made a face. “It wouldn’t be pretty. Just because someone hasn’t broken the law doesn’t mean they’re a good person.”
Zara set her water glass down with a thunk. “I’d never have a job again if confession was a requirement.”
“You’re not mean!” Audrey cried. “You’re the nicest person in Vermont.”
Zara shook her head. “Not always. And I was ahorribleteenager. Really the worst. My mother went entirely gray—every hair on her head—between my thirteenth and my eighteenth year.” She put a hand to her belly. “I hope karma isn’t real, or I’m in trouble with this one.”
Everyone laughed.
“If we’re all going to write down our most embarrassing thing…” Ruth paused to think before she finished her sentence. “We should also be able to write down thebestthing we’ve ever done. That counts, too.”
There were murmurs of agreement, but I didn’t feel soothed. The worst thing I’d done was easy enough to identify. But the best thing I’d ever done? Well, I hadn’t done it yet. I hoped.
