He nodded. “You betcha. Can’t wait to oust the old biddy,” he said, laughing. “So who’s your friend?” He eyed Gabrielle with his legendary curious stare.
“Gabrielle Donovan, meet George Saybrook, George, my closest friend, Gabrielle,” Sharon said.
Gabrielle shook his weathered hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine. So what can I get you ladies?”
“A cosmopolitan, please,” Sharon said.
“A sour-apple martini for me,” Gabrielle said.
He picked up two glasses. “That’s what I like about serving women. You challenge my mixing skills more than a beer-drinking guy does.”
Gabrielle laughed.
Instead of working on their drinks, George lingered to talk. “I recognize your name,” he said to Gabrielle. “You’re the author. I heard you gave quite a speech at the library the other night,” he added. “It’s the talk of the town.”
“Which town? Perkins or Stewart?” Gabrielle asked.
“Both. My bar doesn’t discriminate.” He laughed and turned to mix their drinks.
“I think he means my nightclub,” George’s son, Seth, said, joining his father by the soda fountain. “Hi, ladies.” He nodded at them both.
While Sharon repeated the introductions, Gabrielle compared father and son. They shared height and breadth in their shoulders, but Seth’s hair was an inky-black, giving Gabrielle an idea of how handsome George must have been in his youth.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Seth said to Gabrielle. “Welcome to my establishment.”
“Make sure you don’t listen to anything my boy says. He forgets who owns this joint, the bar and the land beneath,” George spoke proudly.
But since he looked at his son with pride in his eyes, Gabrielle knew there was nothing but good humor behind the words.
“And he forgets it’s the club paying the bills and not the old bar,” Seth joked as he put his arm around his father’s shoulders. “Pop, why don’t you take the night off? Go out and enjoy yourself for once.”
Gabrielle had just turned eighteen when she’d left for college. She’d never come to the bar, but everyone knew that George’s wife had passed away when Seth was just a little boy. George hadn’t remarried and he’d raised his son by himself, moving from their house to a large apartment above the bar where he could keep an eye on his child and his business at the same time.
“This is my enjoyment.” He placed the glasses in front of the women. “One cosmopolitan for Sharon and a sour-apple martini for the author.”
“Thank you,” Gabrielle murmured. She’d have bet George was too preoccupied talking to remember what they’d ordered, not to mention who’d ordered what. She’d have lost.
“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” George said to Seth. “Where else can I spend time with beautiful young women like these two? Even if one of them is awfully quiet.” George settled his gaze on Sharon.
Lost in thought, Sharon didn’t reply. She probably hadn’t even heard the conversation going on around her. Not that Gabrielle blamed her for being distracted.
“She has a lot on her mind, don’t you, Sharon?” Gabrielle nudged her friend.
Sharon jumped, obviously startled. “Oh, right. My wedding. I have this ongoing list in my head and I just can’t seem to concentrate on anything these days.” She gave a smile, one Gabrielle recognized as forced. “At least I have until after the election.”
“Here. Take your drink. I’m sure it’ll help you relax,” Gabrielle said.
Sharon accepted the glass and shot her friend a grateful nod. “Thank you. I’m going to call Richard,” she said, pivoting away from Gabrielle as she pulled out her cell phone.
“No problem.” Gabrielle squeezed her friend’s shoulder before turning back to George and Seth. “Would you mind if I ask you some questions about things going on around town, George?”
Something at the other end of the bar caught Seth’s interest and his gaze wandered. “Whatever it is, Dad will be happy to indulge your interest,” he said to Gabrielle, sounding distracted. “I hope you won’t be insulted if I go make sure the other customers are happy. I’m sure I’ve heard whatever story he ends up telling you at least a hundred times.” He winked at Gabrielle. “He’s all yours.”
“That I am, beautiful. What can I do for you?” George asked.
She lifted her glass for a sip of her martini. The sour taste filled her mouth. “I don’t know if you heard the subject of my next book—”