Perfect Night (Mason Creek)

“He was.”

“No one expects you to be okay. Do you want me to come over?”

“No. I’ll be fine. I think I’m going to take a drive to Home Depot.”

“Home Depot?” she asked.

“Yeah. Something to do, and I’m going to make some changes at the bar.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“Nah. Stay with your handsome doctor. I’ll be fine.”

I’ll be fine, I kept repeating it to myself, hoping to make it true. I’d lost one parent before. Shouldn’t it be easier the second time around?

Drowning in misery wasn’t my idea of fun. I had to fill those spaces with action to redirect my thoughts. Though I had reading to do for a business ethics class I was taking, instead I hunted through Home Depot, angry at Dad for saying no to all the changes I’d wanted to make at the bar. Then I was mad at myself for being angry with a man who couldn’t defend himself.

“Miss.” I blinked several times until the cashier came into view. “How do you want to pay?”

I handed him my credit card realizing I didn’t know the state of my finances. I transferred dad’s written accounting into bookkeeping software, but I didn’t know everything. For another day, I told myself. I took my purchases to the car and got in. I hit a random playlist and drove to the bar instead of home.

On Sundays, the bar didn’t open until three to keep the good church going folks happy. The place should have been empty but when I walked into my father’s office, it was anything but that.

“Jack,” I said.

He stopped counting the cash and looked as surprised as I felt to see him there. “Emma.”

“What are you doing?” It might have sounded like a dumb question, but what I was really asking was why was he doing it?

“I just thought with your dad…”

“It’s fine. I can do that. I did it for Dad every day.”

He nodded and put the stack of bills down on the desk.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d hoped to have some time alone.”

“Yeah, sure.” He got to his feet but didn’t go. “I know now isn’t the right time, but I thought you should know…”

“What?” I asked.

“Your father always said when he was ready to retire, he’d sell me the bar. I know you’re not thinking about that right now, but when you do, I’m willing to buy it from you.”

I folded my arms. “You’re right. It isn’t the right time for this. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He tipped his head and left the office. I waited to hear the back door close behind him before I blew out a breath and got busy with a power screwdriver after I put on Dad’s favorite songs to play through the sound system. Hours later, I stood admiring my handiwork. To the ceiling, I said. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Daddy.”

He’d taught me to be independent and not need anyone for anything including changing a lock or a flat tire. But he was wrong. I did need someone. I needed him. “I miss you.”

My next task was to go through the books with a fine-toothed comb before doing my business ethics reading for class while I waited for the staff to come in.

The bell was music to my ears. I checked my new app and prepared myself when I opened the door.

“My key doesn’t work,” Jack said.

I’d known he’d be the first one in. He was curious about what I’d been up to.

“Yeah. I’ve updated the security system. From now on, everyone will key in a code to enter through the back door. There are also electronic locks on the storeroom, break room, and Dad’s office. Why don’t you come in? Since Dad valued you as someone he could trust, I’ll share with you the changes before my meeting tomorrow with the rest of the staff.” By then the other new equipment I’d ordered online should have arrived, thanks to overnight shipping.

We sat at the bar and I explained that I’d added more cameras and that the security was now cloud based and didn’t need a disk that had to be changed every day. As I spoke, I watched him. Something just felt off.

“Also, I’m going to push customers to not pay cash. We are going to have less cash in the registers. Then there is the new inventory software that will come with the new registers I’ve ordered. We will be able to monitor how much liquor we should have on hand including what’s in open bottles. The system will know how much liquid each bottle contains and the size of our glassware. No more comped drinks without it being recorded. It will be easier to know when to reorder stock.”

“Wow,” he said and shook his head. “Little Emma.”

“I’m not so little anymore. Time to move this bar into the twenty-first century.” Until now, the only change Dad had agreed to while he was alive was my suggestion to get new bar stools.