by Jean Oram
“It was already languishing. Cesar wanted to shut its doors, but she begged him to give her some time to turn it around.”
“And?”
He shrugged. “She’s still working on it. He conditionally bequeathed it to her, and she has three months to prove she’s making headway or it’s liquidated.” He looked away again, taking another long pull of beer.
“So she wants to pick your brain so she can figure out how to keep her pub in Dakota. Nice. What’s she offering you in return? Besides more work for nothing?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Will she take over the work Cesar did? Will she make things go back to normal, like when he was still alive? Or is she just going to take, take, take, while you continue to run yourself ragged trying to do everything for that family?”
“Amy, it’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?” He was too nice and she feared Kimi was going to walk all over him. There had been a balance with Moe and Cesar, even though Amy felt Moe should have been given more rewards and acknowledgment for all he did with the pub.
He was picking at the beer label, his expression uncharacteristically closed. She could sense he wasn’t telling her everything, and she reminded herself that he was grieving and that men didn’t always want to talk about every little detail. In time, she was sure that he’d tell her. Right now, everything to do with the pub was likely hurting him, as he missed Cesar. The man needed time and understanding.
“You know you can tell me anything,” she said. She read the letter again. “If you’re going to say yes to working with Kimi, can you request I get a raise first? I have that wedding to pay for.” Amy took a swig of beer and added dryly, “Before she gets Brew Babies from the estate and runs it into the ground. Speaking of which, maybe we should find a way to keep the place out of her hands so she doesn’t destroy it.” She paused, remembering she was waiting for an answer to her question. “So can you?”
“No.”
Amy jerked. “Why not? I work hard.”
“You’re my wife.”
“Then why didn’t you give me one last week before it was too late? My money is your money, remember.”
“Last week you were my ex-girlfriend.”
“Arrgh. Nepotism!” She banged her bottle on the countertop. “Why doesn’t it ever work in my favor?”
Moe’s lips twitched as he collected the old newspaper she’d used to wrap her dishes, stuffing it into an empty box.
“So I’ll never get a raise ever again?” She gave him a sly look as she sidled up to help. “What are the others getting?”
Moe straightened from his task and took a sip of his beer as though giving himself more time to answer.
“Does Marissa get paid more?” Amy pressed.
“She’s been at the pub a long time.”
“So have I.”
“Technically, she has seniority.”
“But I’ve worked there longer than she has.” Marissa had been hired months after Amy first started at Brew Babies.
“And you’ve left the pub how many times to go work elsewhere? She has more hours, hence seniority.”
Okay, so Amy had left the job a few times, but the point was she always returned, and nobody else on the team worked as well with Moe. He understood and supported her need for change, so what was the big deal?
“I’m here now with no plans to quit. Why don’t you give me more responsibility, and then a raise?”
“I can’t invest in training you just to have you leave.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“You’re planning on a maternity leave within the year.”
Oh, right. That.
She blinked back the slight burning in her eyes. “Are you discriminating against mothers?”
She’d always believed Moe understood, but seeing Marissa getting more because she’d stuck around all this time was a wake-up call. It made sense, but somehow still surprised her, especially since Moe hadn’t ever entrusted Marissa with a key to the building, as he had Amy.
His voice was quiet and level as he said, “I love how you follow your heart, Amy. But the fact is, I can’t count on you not to leave me high and dry.”
“As a manager.”
“As a…a man in charge of things.”
Some of the tightness in her chest eased off. “I always come back,” she said lightly.
She didn’t miss the flash of uncertainty in his gaze, as though he expected that one day she might not.
3
Moe had come to the city to talk with Kimi. Amy had stumbled across Kimi’s offer to partner with managing the pubs, and he knew Amy wouldn’t accept shrugs and conversation deferrals on the topic forever. Which meant he needed to take action and figure things out so he could tell her what he was doing with the pub, their very livelihood. Once he figured that out himself, of course.
When she’d been busy with the wedding there’d never been time for a heart to heart on the subject, and anyway, he’d feared that talking about the pub’s future, and the inherent upheaval no matter what happened, might cause her to nix everything, from their pledge, to the closed offer on the house, to the job itself. Now he didn’t know how to broach the topic, because he didn’t have a clue what was going to happen. He was supposed to be the man with the plan and he had nothing. Nothing but news that would shake her up. News that could change the unspoken promises he’d made to her—that everything would be just like it always had been.
“It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming in.” Kimi shook hands with Moe as she drew him into her father’s large office. Her smooth fingers lingered in his, her gaze wandering over him in a not-so-subtle way that made him think of the pub’s drunks ogling Amy around last call.
Kimi tucked her skirt under her to take a seat at her father’s large mahogany desk.
Correction, her desk now. Her office.
A lump formed in Moe’s throat. Things just weren’t the same without Cesar.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” Moe said, immediately wishing he hadn’t. He’d expressed his condolences at the funeral, and then again at the reading of Cesar’s last will and testament. He really didn’t want to talk about his own grief at the moment, let alone anyone else’s.
The day of the reading had been a surprising day of contradictory feelings. It had been Amy’s thirtieth birthday, and he had returned from the reading of the will, still in shock over the late Cesar’s generous and unexpected business proposition.
He could purchase the pub for approximately half its value—a little income for Kimi and Spencer to help placate them, Moe suspected, as they surely hadn’t been very pleased about his possibility of inheriting Brew Babies.
After the reading he hadn’t had time to change out of his dark suit before appearing at Amy’s party, and the festive mood in the pub had been a welcome reprieve from a day of holding it all in. But instead of greeting Amy first, he’d headed straight for the bar. She’d been laughing off to his left, accepting birthday wishes from a group of women, radiant in a short sundress that showed off her legs and curves.
Moe had loosened his tie and poured himself a shot of whiskey. He’d knocked it back, set the empty shot glass upside down on the bar and savored the alcohol’s burn.
The tension riding in his neck and shoulders had already begun to ease and he’d removed his suit jacket. Then carefully folded his shirtsleeves and started filling the more complex drink orders that were waiting for him, stacked up scraps of paper left by the waitresses.
Cesar had taught him everything from prioritizing to keeping customers happy. The man had felt like a father in so many ways, guiding and trusting Moe to expand his business, giving him a place within those four walls where he felt he was more than just a bartender. More than just some small-town guy without a future.
And now Moe had the opportunity to be more. He could say yes to clause fifteen. He could be the person his father had always insisted he wanted him to become—a b
usiness owner. A man with freedom, security and independence.
He’d never minded working under Cesar. Never minded it one bit. The man had been fair and generous, both in life and in death. More than he needed to be.
But now? Now what was going to happen? Moe needed to figure out how to run the place on his own or else let it go and find a whole new career. Start over.
Still at the bar, Moe had poured another shot, setting it beside his empty glass, leaving it untouched.
“Who’s this for?” Marissa had asked, coming by with her tray.
He had given a minuscule shake of his head, and her mouth had formed a silent “oh” before she’d slipped away to take more orders from Amy’s guests.
Moe had lowered his hands to the bar and let out a long sigh before straightening his spine once again and working his way through the drink orders, doing the one thing he knew how to do.
Kimi had rightfully expected to have both pubs bequeathed to her. She was Cesar’s flesh and blood, after all, and had a business degree. She’d also been helping her dad at both pubs for the past year, introducing systems to boost efficiency and streamline profits. She’d been inseparable from her father, determined to become his right-hand man.
When the lawyer had read Cesar’s wishes in regards to “the son who wasn’t blood, but who was greatly responsible for the thriving success of the Blueberry Springs pub,” Kimi, who had just been conditionally bequeathed the struggling Dakota city sister pub, had sat totally still, barely breathing. Moe had waved a hand in front of her eyes to make sure she wasn’t having some sort of silent seizure. She’d snapped to, giving him such a pained look it had sliced a part of him open. He’d started to tell her he wouldn’t accept the offer, but she’d stood abruptly, apologizing to everyone before fleeing from the room.
Instead of talking to her, making excuses for the years of hard work he’d put in alongside her father, he’d returned to Blueberry Springs.
He’d mixed a Cuba libre and a chocolate vodka martini, placing them to his right.
“Thanks,” Marissa had said, whisking by. At the end of the bar, she’d set the drinks in front of Amber Thompson and Jen Kulak. Moe should have known by the orders who they were for. He’d sent them a nod of acknowledgment when they looked up, then went back to work.
Once all the orders had been fulfilled, Moe had come out around the bar to greet the birthday gal.
“You were late,” she’d scolded, after she’d thrown herself into his arms.
“I was at the reading of the will.”
Her joyful expression had wavered and she’d stepped back, hands on his shoulders, so she could take him in. “How was it?”
He’d shrugged and pulled her back into his arms, needing the hug. “Happy thirtieth.”
“Did he leave you anything?”
“Sort of.” Moe hadn’t said more, because what could he say? That the man had offered him the chance to take what wasn’t rightfully his, for an amount he didn’t possess? But if he didn’t snag this chance, they’d both be looking for new jobs by September.
As if Amy had sensed his reluctance to talk, she’d said, “Did you find yourself a girlfriend in the city?”
Her palms had been resting on his chest, and he’d hooked his hands loosely around her wrists, still needing the physical contact. Her large brown eyes were almost amber with happiness, and he’d found that light spilling into him, making his worries drift away.
“Nope. No girlfriend.”
“Even with that stunning suit that makes you look so hot?” She’d leaned into him and he’d reminded himself to find an excuse to wear the suit again someday soon.
“Nope. No takers. I even stood on a street corner and did a little dance in the June sunshine.”
“Their loss.”
“Tell me about it. I got all sweaty for nothing.”
“Did you buy me a ring?”
“I brought you balloons. I shoved them all in your car. I also poured a few bags of confetti down your vent system and turned the fan on high. Have fun driving home.”
“Girls want jewelry.” She’d released a wrist from his loose grip and had flicked his somber tie. “No wonder you’re still single, you prankster.”
“And are you still single, Miss Amy Carrick?”
Her gaze had been slightly unfocused as she’d settled it on his lips. “You know I am. You cursed me three years ago with that pledge.”
“So it’s my fault now?”
“Always.” She’d rested her head against his chest, and he’d moved his hands to her hips, steadying her even though she didn’t seem to need it. She’d snuggled in and he’d found himself wishing he had a woman in his life. Not a friend in need of a warm body to prop herself against, but more.
“You do tend to surprise me.”
“It’s what you love best about me.”
“True.”
Her hands had drifted back up to his shoulders, then she’d hooked her arms around his neck, their embrace feeling more like a couple’s than that of best friends.
“Here I am at the ripe old age of thirty. Single.” She’d snuggled deeper into his arms, where she felt familiar and right. Like she belonged. Maybe it was simply their history, their comfort in being together, or maybe it was something else. That something that kept rearing up now and again, but never really blossoming into something they could hold on to.
“You’re single, too.” She’d lined up her hands side by side on his chest, her face tipped up, so trusting and lovely.
“I am.” He could have lowered his lips, given her a birthday kiss.
“Are you going to buy me a ring?”
The marriage pledge. They could hold on to moments like this and many more. He’d have someone to come home to, and so would she.
“What if Mr. Right is just around the corner, waiting for you?”
“He had his chance to find me.”
“Amy?” Moving forward with their marriage pledge was a pretty big step.
“Rodney Harper—”
“Rodney?” He’d twisted his lips to illustrate his distaste over her using his legal name.
“—consider yourself off the market.” And with that she had angled her face and placed a warm, dry kiss on his lips that had sent his head spinning and his mind into confusion.
They’d bought a house a week later, and gotten married two weeks after that.
It wasn’t until everything had settled down a few days ago that he’d realized the bank probably would likely need an actual down payment for the loan he intended to apply for.
He was embarrassed. He was the planner in the relationship and he may have just messed up the livelihoods for himself and his wife, as well as several other employees.
Kimi was speaking to him, her tone suggesting he’d tuned her out during his little jaunt down memory lane. Moe brought his mind back into focus on her, the office, the papers spread out on her desk.
“My father had health issues for some time. His passing wasn’t entirely unexpected.” She swallowed hard before lifting her eyes and straightening her back. “You said you’ve looked over my proposal?”
And this was where his confusion lay like a tiger ready to pounce. There was no perfect solution. He obviously would be crazy to turn down purchasing the well-priced business that kept both himself and his wife employed. They had a wedding to pay for, a mortgage, and soon visits to the fertility clinic and a maternity leave. Their little family was going to need the stability and security his father was always harping about, and if Moe didn’t buy the place they’d have nothing.
But at the same time, managing and running a pub, as well as coming up with yet more money when lately all he’d done was spend, plus finding time to help Kimi with her struggling pub, too, it all felt like too much. More than he could stretch to take care of.
“I did look it over,” he replied finally, answering her question. He needed Kimi’s experience with Cesar’s behind-the-scenes jobs, but feared she
wouldn’t be able to take on enough to be a true help.
“What do you think?”
“It’s intriguing.”
“Brew Babies wouldn’t be where it is today without your ideas and hard work.” Her voice was distant. “My proposal is that we join together to manage both pubs. You need help, and I can work with you to keep things on track. We both have too much to lose if we fail.”
Moe shifted in his seat. “What about Spencer?” Kimi’s brother had been given a payout, having never taken more than a passing interest in the business. Still, when it came to losing their father’s legacy, he might find himself ready to step up.
“He’s no help. He’d rather play video games all day and live off of his inheritance than be an adult.” Kimi straightened the pens on her desk and cleared her throat. She laid her blue-painted nails atop a document and slid it across the desk. “Do you have any questions?”
“A few.” Moe reached for the papers, buying time in hopes that his indecision would vanish and that the right path would show itself. He knew what was right, but there was this invisible force holding him back, preventing him from reaching out and accepting what he’d been bequeathed.
“That’s new,” Kimi stated, her gaze latched to his wedding band. She tried to smile, but her trembling lips wouldn’t cooperate. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“Who’s the lucky gal?”
“Amy Carrick.”
“From the pub? Are you mixing business and pleasure?” she teased, in a low sultry voice. “You naughty man.”
Moe opened his mouth, hesitating as he debated how honest he should be about the pleasure part of their marriage pledge.
“But I should have guessed,” she said cheerily, flipping closed the file folder she’d laid out in front of her.
“Sorry?”
“Whenever she’s around there’s no room for other women.” She gave a small wave and a laugh that was a bit too tight to be natural. “I hope someday I find someone who’ll make me as happy as Amy obviously makes you.”
Moe cleared his throat. “I’m sure you will.”
She reopened the file folder, her tone becoming crisp and professional. “I’d like your input.” She began handing him sheet after sheet. “Mostly in regards to money, duties, hours, etc. How we’ll split the division of labor.”
