Wake My Heart (Jasper Falls 1)

“I’ve been crying. I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

His aunt’s eyes went wide. “Who’s gone?”

His mother let out a whimper and waved the question away as she blew her nose into the crumpled paper napkin.

Ryan cleared his throat and rolled his eyes. “Rufus.”

Aunt Col’s green eyes bulged. “You’re crying like this over a dog?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand. Such an unfeeling wench you can be.”

“I am not unfeeling. The dog was older than Stonehenge, Rose. Maureen isn’t even this broken up over it. Get a grip!”

“You were never an animal lover.”

“I love animals just fine.” She grabbed a rag and wiped down the refilled bottles of ketchup. “The silly dog was missing a leg. It was lucky Frank took pity on it all those years ago. It had a fine life, and now it’s time to move on.”

His mother scoffed. “I suppose we’ll say the same thing when you go. Oh, well, she had a fine life, and now it’s time to move on.”

“Go ahead. I’ve got no complaints.”

“Oh, please, that’s all you do is complain!”

“Yes, and when I’m gone, I’ll finally be gettin’ some peace and quiet.”

Ryan left the two bickering sisters and did a quick inventory in the back but not before he heard his aunt hiss, “We all know you’re only using this as an excuse to cry over something else. Every mother eventually has an empty nest, Rose. Be glad your son still lives here.”

“All the way on the other end of town!”

Ryan was keeping a list of questions to run by Kelly and jotted down a note about condiments. St. Patrick’s Day was one of the pub’s busiest nights of the year, and this would be his cousin Kelly’s first time missing it since he took over the bar. Luckily, his mum and aunt knew what they were doing. They had run the bar back when he and all his cousins were still kids.

He poked his head out of the kitchen window. “How many kegs do you think we’ll need for Tuesday?”

“Twelve.”

“Two dozen.”

He added a question about beer to his list for Kelly.

“Twelve won’t be enough,” his mother argued. “You’ll go through a keg an hour. And that’s just the dark stuff. Then there’s the shite you have to dye green for all the rookies.”

“Two dozen is absurd. Not everyone wants a pint. Don’t forget to stock up on your Irish whiskies and creams,” Aunt Col shouted and he added another question to the list.

“What the hell kind of party do you think this is, Colleen? People aren’t comin’ to have cordials. They’re comin’ to get pissed.”

The two continued to quarrel hardly paying any attention to him as he mumbled, “I’ll call Kelly.”

He dialed his cousin and got his voicemail. “Hey, Kel, it’s Ryan. I know you’re busy at the studio, but when you get a sec, give me a call. I want to go over the bar order for Tuesday.”

His aunt and mum had moved on to other topics as they refilled the saltshakers. He should run some errands for the things he knew they needed while they were here to cover the bar.

“What time does Restaurant Supply close?” he asked.

“Eight.”

“Nine.”

“Lord, give me strength,” he mumbled. “I’m taking a ride to get the meat and potatoes. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Take the company card.” Colleen dug in her oversized pocketbook and produced the O’Malley’s Visa. “Don’t lose that. Kelly trusted me with it.”

“I won’t. Call me if you think of anything else.” Relieved simply to get away from their bickering, and in no real rush to get back, he took the scenic route through town.

Center County was a straight shot off the mountain. A cleverly titled central street, named Main Street, hosted all the local businesses. They weren’t fancy and everyone knew everyone else’s business, but there was something special about living in a small town, something that felt like home even when outsiders visited for the first time.

Restaurant Supply was a mile outside of town. The large warehouse sold everything from handcarts to crème brulee. It catered to diners and local colleges. By no means was it a place regular people grocery shopped, but the women in his family sort of lived there. One, because they had a membership through O’Malley’s. And two, because their family dinners consisted of over fifty ravenous Irish men, women, and children. The mums only shopped in bulk.

He parked beside several food trucks boasting local restaurant names from nearby towns. Knowing very little about the food service business, he observed everyone else when he entered.

Rather than shopping carts, patrons pushed oversized handcarts. He found one by the automatic doors and steered it inside.

His shoulders lifted at the instant temperature drop. It was an ice box. He should have worn his coat, but he’d left in such a rush he only wore a thin thermal shirt and jeans.