And then I’m standing there, facing them. I clasp my hands in front of myself and look from one to the other and think charming, helpful, friendly, and I keep smiling.
“It’s no trouble at all,” I tell Vera, running one palm over the other. “What exactly is it I’m helping with? I should probably find that out before I make any promises.”
“I know it’s very last-minute,” Vera says. “But we had more RSVP’s than we expected for Ava’s wedding tomorrow, so I’m hoping that I can add another ten or so cases of beer to our order.”
I don’t look at Delilah, but I can see her anyway: watching Vera, face giving nothing away, still lighting up the place like she’s the sun.
“Well, I don’t know,” I deadpan. “We’re only a brewery, I’m not sure where we’ll get all those beers.”
Vera laughs, reaches out and puts one hand on my shoulder.
“This is what I have to put up with for Ava,” she says to Delilah. “Seth Loveless sassing me.”
“She’s probably worth it,” Delilah says, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Though we could also just go back to Kroger and grab a couple cases of Coors Light. Coors Light never sassed anyone.”
“That’s true,” I say. “It just hasn’t got the personality. But if you’d like sassy beer, then of course I can help. What do you need?”
“I have to admit that I don’t remember exactly what we’ve already ordered and I didn’t bring my food and beverage notes with me today,” Vera starts. “But we planned on three hundred and fifty people at the wedding, but more were able to attend than I thought…”
Delilah glances from Vera to me, then back, but I feel as if someone opened the oven door in a freezing house. Everything about her is warm: red hair, the color of an ember about to catch in kindling. Copper-toned brown eyes. Freckles that pepper her skin like autumn leaves on the last sunny day.
“…but since most of the unexpected RSVPs are from Harold’s golfing friends and Thad’s lacrosse team, I’d say we’ll take about ten percent more than what we originally ordered,” Vera finishes. “Is that all right?”
“Absolutely,” I say. “I’d be pretty bad at my job if I couldn’t get you eight more cases of beer. You want them in the same proportion as the rest of the order?”
I never say numbers aloud to customers if I don’t have written proof of them in front of me, but I’ve got everything memorized anyway. I don’t mean to. It just happens.
Vera ordered eighty cases of beer, split into thirty cases of Loveless Lager, twenty cases of Southern Lights IPA, ten cases of Solstice Stout, and ten cases of Boondocks Brown. At twelve bottles in a case, that’s nine hundred and sixty beers.
In other words, if Vera wanted me to stand on my head right now, I’d at least try.
“That would be perfect,” Vera says. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s no problem at all. We’ll get them loaded up tonight and delivered tomorrow,” I say, sliding my palms over each other in the opposite direction. Oven door, cold house. “How’s the wedding prep going?”
Vera sighs.
“Everything is completely insane and there are a million things to do,” she says. “You know how it is.”
I don’t. I’ve never planned a wedding or been married. I’m the only one in this room right now who hasn’t, and despite myself, I glance at Delilah.
She glances away, and I wonder why the fuck I did that.
“Completely,” I say. “I’ve never done it myself, but Daniel ran me ragged for the week before his wedding. So did Eli, even though that was just a glorified courthouse ceremony.”
“I didn’t realize Eli had gotten married,” Vera says. “Congratulations!”
“I’ll pass it on,” I say.
“Who’s his wife?”
“Her name’s Violet Tulane,” I say, easing into the small talk. “She went to high school with us.”
“I know that name,” Vera says, a small, delicate frown ghosting across her brow. “Why do I know that name?”
“Did she wrangle the fireworks permits at Winona’s wedding?” Delilah suddenly says. “When the fire marshal didn’t want to let us set them off, but she negotiated to have a fire engine standing by, just in case?”
“Sounds like Violet,” I agree. “She used to work at Bramblebush Farms.”
“Yes!” exclaims Vera. “Yes, that’s exactly right. I quite liked working with her, she really got things done. Poor thing must have been disappointed to have a small wedding.”
I almost laugh.
“I don’t think so,” I tell Vera.
“There are plenty of people who don’t want half the eastern seaboard at their weddings,” Delilah points out.
“I refuse to believe such nonsense,” Vera laughs, adjusting an expensive-looking purse on her shoulder. “Anyway, we should get moving. The rehearsal dinner is tonight and Delilah claims that her hair takes hours to style.”
“Only if you don’t like the frizzy bun look,” Delilah tells her, one hand going to her head, orange curls tied up and twisted on top. “If you’re into that, by all means, keep quizzing Seth about weddings.”