“I don’t know. What would you do if you were me?”
He cackled. “I know exactly what I’d do. I’d go out with all of them and pick the guy with the biggest dick!”
That’s my Matty. But he had a point.
* * *
I walked to work to clear my head and ended up getting there early. On the way, I passed my usual posse of homeless buddies and stopped to say hi to them. God, they broke my heart.
“Hey, Tom,” I said, grabbing a seat at the bar. Since we were in-between lunch and happy hour, the place was empty. While I liked the bar when it was hopping with activity, it was also kind of magical when it was quiet, like it was waiting for something to happen, waiting for the explosion of activity that was sure to come.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said as he filled the cooler with bottles of beer. “Seems like you’ve had a busy social life lately.”
Damn. Was it that obvious? “You know how it is, when it rains, it pours.” I laughed as nonchalantly as I could force myself to. Shit, did he know about Grandpa and the money?
“Yeah, you got yourself some suitors.”
I shrugged. “I guess. We’ll see what comes of it.”
He leaned onto the bar before me. “What else is going on? Still thinking about that sommelier course?”
I sighed deeply. I’d been trying not to think about it, but with Grandpa’s money, I might be able to finally make my dream happen.
“I do think about it. A lot. Probably too much.”
“What? How can you be thinking about your dream too much??
?
I felt a lump growing in my throat. Tom was right. What was wrong with letting yourself have dreams?
In spite of myself, my voice cracked. “You’re right. I need to give myself permission to want more than this.” I gestured throughout the bar. “Not that there’s anything wrong with this.”
“Garnet. There is nothing wrong with wanting more than the Drive By Saloon. In fact, I think there would be something wrong with not wanting more.” The compassion on his face made the tears really come. Thank goodness no one was in the bar, yet.
Tom came around the bar and took a seat next to me.
“Hey, what’s going on?” He put an arm around my shoulder. He and his wife were like a big brother and sister to me.
I wiped my nose on a bar napkin. “Sorry, Tom. I just have a lot going on. It’s going to be fine, though, really.”
He pulled me into a hug. “Hey, why don’t you come by the house sometime soon? I know Ingrid would love to see you.”
“Thank you, Tom. You guys are so good to me.” They really were.
The first happy hour customers began to trickle in. We weren’t busy enough yet for me to get to work so Tom served them. It was going to be a busy night, and I wanted to save my feet for as long as possible.
When I finally joined him behind the bar, I saw Grandpa’s seat occupied by a stranger. It felt strange.
“Hey, Tom, remember that old guy who used to sit at the end of the bar, the one we called Grandpa?”
“Sure. The one who always kept to himself?”
“And was a lousy tipper,” we both said in unison.
“Well, he passed away,” I said.
“Oh, I didn’t know that. How’d you find out?” he asked.