by Lee McKenzie
Oblivious to Jess’s momentary uncertainty, Paige took the muffins out of the bag. “Oh, good. They’re still warm.”
Grateful for the distraction, Jess headed for the kitchen. “I’ll grab a couple of plates.”
Paige settled onto a stool and Jess took the one at the end of the bar when she returned. For the next half hour, she decided, she would enjoy her friend’s company and not think about money, guilt and her mother. “Have you heard from Rory?” she asked.
“No.” Paige took a bite of her muffin and rolled her eyes in ecstasy. “Mmm, this is so good. What about you? Have you heard from her?”
Jess broke her muffin in half and inhaled the scent of warm chocolate. “No, but I didn’t really expect to.” She licked the chocolate off her fingers. “She loves Disneyland, and I’ll bet she’s having a great time giving her new family the grand tour.”
Paige took off her glasses and cleaned them on the lower edge of her oversize burgundy sweater. “Speaking of families, Maria called yesterday. She took the baby for a checkup on Monday and she weighs twenty-one pounds already.”
Jess assumed that was a good thing. “It’s kind of amazing to think that of the five of us, Rory and Maria are now parents.”
“I wouldn’t have minded if it had happened sooner,” Paige said. Jess knew she had been dreaming about motherhood since they were in college.
“If it had, you’d be a single parent right now.” This was one of Jess’s least favorite subjects, but she couldn’t let it drop. “No offense, but I grew up with one….”
Paige reached for her arm and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I know, hon. You had it rough, but lots of single parents do a great job. Look at Mitch and his daughter before they met Rory. Single parenthood was thrust on him when his wife died, and he’s a great dad.”
Jess immediately regretted her thoughtless comment. “You’re right. Not everyone ends up with a mother like mine. That’s something to be thankful for.”
“In spite of that, you’re one of the most grounded, sensible people I’ve ever met. And I know it’s just as well I’m not a single parent, but I can’t help hoping that someday…”
“It’ll happen. If anyone’s going to end up a childless old maid, it’ll be me.” They both laughed, but Jess knew her friends secretly agreed there was a lot of truth in that. “You, on the other hand, are moving on with Andy.”
Paige looked troubled. “I’m pretty sure Andy doesn’t want to ‘move on’ with me.”
“What happened? Did the two of you have a falling-out over something?” Jess sipped her latte and gave her friend a sly grin. “You seemed to be getting along very well at Rory’s wedding.”
Paige didn’t blush. Her face went radioactive.
“Oh, my God. You and Andy…did the two of you…?” Paige turned even redder, and Jess couldn’t resist finishing the question. “Do the deed?”
Paige kept her eyes lowered, as if she’d committed some kind of crime, and she swirled a stir stick through the froth on her latte.
“You did!” What was it about weddings? Rory had hooked up with Mitch at Nicola’s wedding. Paige and Andy got together at Rory’s, and Michael had probably been thinking along the same lines when he asked her to dance. It was a typical guy thing, which meant it was probably what he hoped would happen after their dinner meeting. He could think again.
“We did,” Paige said. “But we shouldn’t have. We wouldn’t have, except I think we both had too much to drink that night.”
Jess finished her coffee as she took this in. Looks like you’re the only the one who went home alone that night, she thought. Typical. “You and Andy are adorable together, not to mention perfect for each other. And for the record, I saw you and Andy leave the reception. I’m a bartender, remember? I see my share of tipsy people, and neither of you were intoxicated. At least, not on alcohol.”
Paige gave her head a rueful shake. “The next morning was awful.”
“How so?”
“It was awkward, and I mean painfully awkward. There we were…naked in my bed…and we’re just friends, for heaven’s sake! Neither of us knew what to say, and all I could think about was how much I didn’t want him to see me without clothes on.”
A normal person would have been amused by Paige’s discomfort over waking up with a gorgeous guy like Andy in her bed, but a sick feeling coiled in the pit of Jess’s stomach. The need to keep her body covered and private had become second nature. How many times had one of her mother’s creepy boyfriends brushed against her inappropriately or barged into the bathroom while she was in the shower or—she shuddered—while she was using the toilet? Sometimes that had been accidental, but there had been other times when she’d absolutely known it wasn’t.
Nothing like that had happened to Paige, but she was unnecessarily self-conscious about her weight. Jess pushed aside her own insecurities and focused on her friend. “You need to stop worrying about this. You’re beautiful, with or without clothes, and Andy obviously thinks so, too. Have you talked to him about this?”
Paige looked chagrined. “No. We get together for burgers and beer every Wednesday after work, but I canceled this week.”
Jess was the last person to be handing out relationship advice, but she couldn’t let this go. “You’re adults, you’re both single, you’re good friends. Seriously, there shouldn’t be any regrets.”
Paige sighed. “I know, and I will talk to him. I just wish it hadn’t happened. Now, can we talk about something else? Like your date with Michael.”
“It’s not a date,” Jess reminded her. “It’s a business dinner.”
Paige pointed to Jess’s shopping bag. “Oh, yes. Business. And that required new clothes because…?”
Because her wardrobe was far from businesslike. She’d had decent clothes when she was a high school teacher, but since taking over the bar she had gradually sold most of them at a consignment store in an attempt to keep up with the bills. Now she had a closet filled with old shirts, faded jeans, a couple of pairs of sneakers, a collection of completely impractical bridesmaid dresses and the equally unwearable shoes that went with them.
“Have you found out anything about him?” Paige asked.
“He’s commissioned some paintings from Rory’s mom. Nicola’s husband is his lawyer. And he seems to know a lot about wine.”
Paige leaned on her elbows, hands under her chin. “He must have money. I like him better already. What’s his last name?”
“I don’t know.”
“What kind of business does he want to discuss?”
“He’s going to open a wine bar here in SoMa and he thinks he can talk me into selling the Whiskey Sour. To him.”
Paige sat up and examined the sleeve of her sweater, suddenly intent on a loose thread. “Would that be such a terrible idea?”
“Um…yes! I’d be letting Granddad down if I sold it. Besides, I love this place and…okay…I know it’s not a home, but in some ways it’s the closest I’ve ever had.” And she had always loved working here.
“I know, sweetie, but it’s been such a struggle for you to make ends meet.”
True, but she wasn’t throwing in the towel. “It’s been a tough slog, but I’m more than just a bartender. I’m a businesswoman, and I really have learned a lot about the hospitality industry.” She didn’t mention the possibility of getting a bank loan so she could fix up the place. Given Jess’s less than stellar track record for managing money, Paige probably wouldn’t approve of that, either. She was all about stability and playing it safe.
“How long can you keep going like this?”
Jess shrugged. “As long as it takes.”
Paige put an arm around her shoulder. “I guess as long as you’re happy, that’s the most important thing.”
Jess glanced up at the clock. “Speaking of business, it looks like I’m open.”
“And I need to use the restroom,” Paige said. “Then I’d better get going. I’m still not finished packing.
”
Jess unlocked the front door and flipped the switch to turn on the red neon open sign. She was clearing away their cups and plates when Paige burst out of the women’s washroom, struggling with the zipper on her jeans.
“Oh, my God! All I did was flush the toilet, I swear, and now it’s overflowing and flooding the bathroom and I can’t make it stop!”
Damn it. This was the third time this week. She rushed into the storage room, grabbed the plunger and a mop, and wheeled the bucket into the women’s restroom.
Stupid damn plumbing. What have I done to deserve this?
Chapter Five
Jess used a few choice words on the toilet as she rammed the plunger into it several times. That seemed to do the trick, for now at least.
Paige hovered in the doorway. “I’m sorry. Do you need some help?”
“Everything’s under control.” She was becoming adept at this.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. There must be a blocked pipe or something.” One of her patrons might’ve flushed something down there, and she shuddered to think what that might be.
“Are you going to call a plumber?”
On the weekend? That would cost a small fortune. “I’ll call someone on Monday,” she lied. She was at least grateful to the plumbing gods that it was the women’s restroom and not the men’s that had the problem. Relatively few women frequented the Whiskey Sour, and she had started using the men’s room when no one was around. When Larry and Bill came in after work on Monday, she’d ask if they knew anything about plumbing. No point asking Eric, because he was even less familiar with this than she was.
After she mopped up the mess, she dumped the contents of the bucket down the men’s toilet and was rolling it back to the storage room when the door opened. A customer already and it was only noon. This was promising.
Paige was cleaning her eyeglasses again, but quickly put them back on to see who had come in. She looked as surprised as Jess felt. It was not one of her regulars. Not a handful of locals who thought they’d try something different. Not some misguided tourist. This was young woman about their age, and she was alone. Maybe not a customer after all. Was she lost and needing directions? Change for the parking meter?
She was taller than average—even taller than most men—with short, sleek dark hair. She was wearing jeans and a jacket, casual clothes, to be sure, but there was no question they had designer labels stitched into them. And she looked vaguely familiar, although Jess couldn’t place her. “Can I help you?” she asked.
The woman walked up to the bar, oozing confidence, and took a stool. “Sure. I’ll have a beer.” She glanced at her watch. “And I’ll take a look at the menu, too.”
“Oh. Sure.” Jess shrugged and exchanged a quick glance with Paige. “I’ll be right with you.”
Paige gave Jess a hug and went to retrieve her umbrella. “I have to go. Have a good week, and be sure to call me after your date. I’ll be dying to hear how it went.” From the door, she reiterated her request by holding her hand to the side of her head, her thumb and pinkie extended in the universal call-me hand sign.
I give up, she thought. Why was it so hard for everyone to accept that this wasn’t a date? She waved goodbye to Paige and handed a menu to the woman at the bar. “I’ll be right back,” she said.
She stopped by the women’s restroom and slapped an out-of-order sign on one of the stall doors. Back behind the bar, she washed her hands and turned her attention to her unexpected customer. “What kind of beer can I get you?”
“Do you have an English-style bitter?”
“Sure do.” Jess wouldn’t have pegged her as someone who knew anything about beer, let alone had a taste for it.
“Great. I’ll have one of those.” She scanned the menu again. “The grilled vegetable panini sounds delicious.”
Jess reached for a glass. “Sure thing.” She’d bought the panini grill, figured out how to use it and printed new menus, hoping that might bring in some new business. There were two problems. Her regulars didn’t want paninis. Guys like Larry and Bill weren’t into “fancy food”—they wanted plain old peel-and-stick grilled cheese sandwiches. And she couldn’t afford to advertise, so the rest of the world didn’t know that the Whiskey Sour now served kick-ass paninis.
Jess filled the beer glass and set it on a coaster. In what had become the bar’s sorry excuse for a kitchen, she prepared the veggie panini and placed it in the press to grill. She went back into the bar to find the woman looking around with interest.
“This is kind of a cool place. How long have you worked here?” she asked.
Jess knew she was just making conversation, but it seemed like a strange question. “A couple of years,” she said.
“I see. It’s not the kind of place I’d expect to have a female bartender.”
True. That surprised a lot of people. “I’m not just the bartender. I’m also the owner.”
The woman smiled at her. “Interesting.”
She didn’t say why she thought it was interesting, and Jess didn’t know how to ask.
“Clever name…the Whiskey Sour. I like it.”
“That was my grandfather’s idea. He originally intended it to be a cocktail lounge, but he never quite got that to fly. Back when he first opened, the people who worked around here started coming in. They liked the place, mostly because everyone liked Granddad, but they wanted pretzels and beer, not appies and martinis.”
“Does anyone ever come in and order a whiskey sour?”
Jess laughed. “Once in a while, but most of my customers are beer drinkers.” Like you. The timer buzzed and she went into the kitchen to get the sandwich, still pondering the incongruity of this young, expensively dressed professional woman sitting in her bar. Alone, in the middle of the day, drinking beer.
“Here you go.” She set the plate in front of the mystery woman and gave her a set of napkin-rolled cutlery.
“Thanks. This looks great.”
“Thanks.” Now, if the universe would just serve up another hundred or so customers just like this one, she’d be set.
“This is really good,” she said after swallowing her first bite and another mouthful of beer. “So, do you own the whole building, or just the bar?”
“Oh. Um…the whole building.” Complete with a whopping big tax assessment and an ever-lengthening list of things that needed to be fixed.
“What’s on the second floor?”
This was getting weirder by the minute. Not only was this woman not your typical barfly, she was asking a lot of questions. Like maybe she was from the tax department, trying to figure out how to squeeze even more blood out of this particular stone.
“There’s an apartment and some office space, but they’re empty right now.” Her granddad had lived up there for years, but when she’d come to stay with him as a teenager, he had moved them into a bigger place and found a tenant to take the apartment. The last renters had trashed the place and the last business to lease the office space had run into some legal problems and shut down last year. Now the apartment wasn’t fit for human habitation and the office space seriously needed to be modernized. Without the rental income she couldn’t afford to fix either of them, and until she did she couldn’t find reliable tenants.
“I heard your friend say you were going on a date. New man in your life?”
“Um…not a date. It’s just a business dinner.”
The woman smiled. “Mixing business with pleasure can be fun.”
Getting dating advice from a friend was one thing, but from some random person who had just happened into the bar was just plain weird. Maybe it was time to ask a few questions of her own. “What brings you to SoMa?”
The visitor looked completely nonplussed. “Business,” she said. “I just wrapped up a meeting and thought I’d grab a bite to eat.”
A Saturday business meeting? That ruled out the possibility of her being a tax assessor. She hoped. “Are you in rea
l estate?”
“In a way. Not sales, though. More on the design end of things.” That sounded kind of vague, but maybe she really had just wandered in for lunch and was simply asking questions instead of talking about the weather.
“I plan to fix up the bar one of these days,” Jess said, more for the sake of conversation than anything else.
“What do you have in mind?” The woman looked around with renewed interest.
“Oh. Well, I’m not really sure. I mean, I’ve always thought a fifties theme would be fun. Kind of in keeping with the name and what my grandfather had in mind when he opened the place.”
“You’re right. That really would suit the name. You could install a bank of crescent-shaped booths along that side wall, an old jukebox, put in a dropped ceiling with a stardust theme…” She paused. “Sorry. I tend to get carried away with stuff like this.”
“No, those are great ideas. Just not in the budget, I’m afraid.” If the bank loan came through, she would still have to do a lot of the work herself. With the exception of the damn plumbing. If it didn’t, she might have to give up her apartment and move into the dump upstairs in order to pay for a plumber.
“It’s fun to daydream. Do you have color scheme in mind?”
“Turquoise.”
The customer looked impressed. “Good choice. Turquoise and cream vinyl upholstery, lots of chrome accents. Very retro but with a modern edge. I like it,” she said, as if the ideas had all been Jess’s.
Jess leaned her elbows on the bar and looked around, seeing the place through new eyes. The woman was right. Booths would be perfect and so would the stardust ceiling. Eric would love it.
“Now I just need to convince the bank to lend me the money.” It was a long shot, but what the heck.
“And a building permit,” the woman said. “Then you’re all set.”
“Really? I’d need a building permit for that?”
