CHAPTER 12
Lowe
Colt’s eyes meet mine as soon as I walk into Chesty’s. I didn’t realize he’d be bartending this evening, but not surprised either. While Colt is the foreman for Mainer Farms and makes a decent living, he squirrels away money like we’re on the verge of a stock market crash or something. He picks up as many shifts here as he can from Pap, who is all too happy to have one of his brood in the bar business with him.
But Pap ain’t no fool. He knows this isn’t the life Colt wants, and that he’s a farmer down to his core.
By the time I make it to up to the bar, Colt’s got a draft waiting.
“Where’s the old man?” I ask as I sit down and take a sip. It’s just past five o’clock, and he’s usually always here at this time.
“He’s not always around now that Trixie’s got herself a man,” Colt says by way of explanation, and that makes sense. Every day at quittin’ time, Trixie would always walk next door from her law firm and hang out with Pap. Those two are thicker than thieves, and I expect it’s probably been a little hard on him now that Ry is back in the picture with her. Still, that ol’ coot would never begrudge one of his grandkids happiness so he’ll never make an issue out of it.
I make a note to swing by his apartment upstairs to check on him, but for now, I enjoy my beer. Over the next twenty minutes, Floyd comes by and takes a seat to my right, choosing to nurse one whiskey, which is his max. He has to patrol town, after all, for miscreants and coyotes.
Yeah, Floyd’s got his own level of mental issues, but he’s a good guy and he did help me with my early schemes to defend Mainer House from the cursed New York gal who bought it.
Now, I kind of like that New York gal, and today proved it even more.
Mely and me united against her bestie, Morris D, in a great prank that had him spitting fire at me once I let him in on what I’d done. I never gave Mely up as being in on the plan though, effectively preserving their friendship. Even after I’d retrieved the red gown from Sissy and gave it to him, he was still cursing me up one side and down the other.
It was epic.
“Saw you got all the primer finished,” Floyd says, making general conversation.
“And part of the paint,” I say in agreement. “Will have it all knocked out tomorrow.”
“Then what?” he asks.
Then a whole lot of work on the house. I did a walk-through with Mely after Morri had his meltdown, and she went over all her ideas. I was pleasantly surprised to see she was only updating those things that were in complete disrepair, but keeping much of the original style of the house. The floors were all in decent shape but needed to be refinished, and most of the changes were cosmetic—like new paint and fixtures. She did want to install new cabinetry and appliances in the kitchen, as well as upgrade the bathrooms from top to bottom, but honestly, the variation in style wasn’t all that different from the original.
By the time she’d gone over everything, I’d already made my decision and told her, “I don’t know your time frame on this, but I can do all of this for you in the hours Judge Bowe ordered me to do.”
“No way,” she’d exclaimed. “I cannot have you doing all this work for me for free and under duress.”
She was cute, but she didn’t know that I’d had a bit of an ulterior motive in my offer. The longer it took to get the work done, the longer Mely would be staying around town. She’d told me during dinner last night that her next big design project wasn’t starting for three months so I knew she had a lot of time to spare. By letting me do the work, she’d have to accept my timetable, which meant it wasn’t going to get done as quickly if she contracted it out.
In the end, she’d reluctantly agreed we could discuss it more tomorrow over coffee, as I had to get over to Millie’s and get some work done on site.
“Need me to allow an extra patrol on her house at night?” Floyd asks, breaking into my thoughts.
“What?”
“You’re sweet on her, right?” he asks, but it’s not a question. It’s a foregone conclusion in his mind. “I’ll watch over your girl for ya, if you want when I’m patrolling.”
“This isn’t the fifties,” I mutter to Floyd. “And you do know it’s not really a job to walk around the town at night with a shotgun.”
“It is to me,” he says with a fist thump to his chest as he drains the rest of his whiskey. “And I need to get on duty.”
“Then you should ask the mayor to add you to the payroll,” Colt quips from the other side of the bar as Floyd walks out. He gives a wave of his hand before the door shuts behind him.
I snicker and take another sip of beer. The interior of the dim bar lightens considerably, which means the door just opened agained, and everyone turns to look to see who’s entering.
I relax when I see it’s Larkin, not sure why I’d been tense.
I’m sure it had nothing to do with the casual invite I’d given Mely earlier today before I left her house to come by and join everyone for a beer. She was noncommittal and I didn’t expect she’d come, but still… it would be nice to see her face again. I’d like to learn more about her.
“That was quite the show y’all put on today,” Larkin says as she slips into Pap’s chair that sits adjacent to my left side.
“What show?” Colt asks as he puts a draft beer down in front of Larkin and leans his elbows on the countertop as he looks at her.
“Mely’s friend is in town visiting and Lowe pulled the Pamela Anderson poster trick on him,” Larkin tells him with a laugh. Colt still has never quite forgiven me for that, adamantly claiming he had weird dreams about Weird Al for months after, and his face pinches at the mention of it.
Chuckling, I admit, “He was fit to be tied.”
“What did you switch out?” Colt asks curiously.
“A red formal gown for a pink lacy gown,” I tell him.
His brows pinch in confusion. “You said ‘he’ was fit to be tied.”
“He’s a drag queen,” Larkin explains.
“Huh,” Colt muses as he straightens up. “Right here in Whynot?”
“Seen stranger things,” I point out to my brother. “Like the Caliente’s ghost that haunts Mercer Cemetery.”
“There’s no such thing,” Larkin says, but I can hear a little fear in her voice. She’s always been afraid of scary stuff like ghost stories.
“Regardless,” I say to change the subject just slightly. “It was epic. He freaked out even more than you did when you got your first gander at the Weird Al “Eat It” poster.”
Larkin giggles, and Colt rolls his eyes. “Yeah… that was hilarious.”
“You talking about that fruitcake over at Mainer House?”
I look over my shoulder to see Travis Robbins and Gill Ellis playing pool. Both are the epitome of backwoods rednecks and can be trouble when they get drinking. They’re both sporting their wife beaters, and the glaze in their eyes says they’ve been here at Chesty’s drinking for a while. Neither one of them have ever been able to hold a steady job and have wives at home who don’t seem to care either.
“Yeah… heard there’s a real live fag come to town,” Gill says as he leans on his pool cue and leers.
“Shut up,” Larkin says fiercely from beside me. She didn’t get the pleasure of meeting Morri so she doesn’t know him from Adam, but she has the softest heart of anyone I know. She doesn’t need to know a person to defend them.
“Yeah,” Gill continues, ignoring my sister. “We don’t get many of those tooty-fruity sorts here.”
“I think my sister said shut up,” I say as I turn around fully on my stool before standing.
“Aww, come on, Lowe,” Travis says. He’s definitely the smarter of the two and knows when I’m riled up. “We was just having some fun.”
“Then have your fun with your mouths shut,” I say through gritted teeth. “No one here wants to hear that crap.”
Gill, the more stupid of the pair, doesn’t like this and takes a step toward me. My hands tighten into fists, waiting for him to make a move. But Travis lays a hand on his shoulder and mutters, “Leave it alone, man. Not worth ruining my buzz over.”
Gill and I have a stare down, and he blinks first. Well, he turns away first and I watch a moment more as they go back to playing pool.
When I sit back down at the bar, Larkin says, “I don’t get that. Makin’ fun of people for the way they talk or what they wear.”
Dear sweet Larkin.
Life in a small town isn’t always that simple and laid back.
Assured that a fight’s not going to break out, Colt goes back to waiting on other patrons and I turn slightly to face Larkin. Her face is still pinched with stress.
“Don’t mind them,” I tell her with a nudge of my shoulder against hers. “They’re idiots.”
“I know,” she huffs out as she leans into me for a return bump before straightening. “It’s just mean. If Pap were here, he’d have whooped their butts.”
My head bobs with silent laughter. He’d totally have laid into those boys. As a bar owner, he’s of the firm belief that politics should stay on the sidewalk outside. That includes arguing hot-button social issues too. It’s not that he minds any particular stance, he just knows that alcohol and riled-up tempers don’t belong together. Given the fact that Gill and Travis are sort of known troublemakers, he would have showed them the door had he heard that crap.
“What’s the deal with you and Mely?” Larkin asks and my head snaps her way.
“What do you mean?” I ask her vaguely.
“Don’t play stupid, Lowe,” she chastises me. “There’s a connection there between you two. Saw it clear as day when you two were on the porch this morning while her friend Morris D had his meltdown. Little stolen looks at each other. So cute.”
I roll my eyes at my sister’s romantic nature. I’ve never really kept secrets from Larkin because I’m not generally a secretive guy and she’s my favorite sibling, so I lean toward her and admit, “I kissed her.”
“What?” she gasps, and then her eyes go soft. “Oh, wait… that’s awesome. She’s so sweet, and I’ve enjoyed talking to her when she comes by the shop. You two would make such a cute couple.”
I groan and roll my eyes. “I’m not asking her to go steady with me or anything, Larkin. Cut that crap out.”
“But you kissed her,” she points out.
“And I’m regretting even telling you that,” I mutter as I pick up my beer.
Because Larkin is a girl, I could never admit to her I’d like to do a heck of a lot more kissing with Melinda Rothschild and see what else comes after that, but that’s totally a dude thought that I’m not sharing with her. Maybe with Colt over a few or a hundred beers.
Maybe not with anyone.
The feelings I’ve been having for Mely are all kinds of conflicting. I’ve gone from purely despising her to outright lusting after her.
“Well, she’s a really sweet girl,” Larkin says, and that says a lot. My sis is a good judge of character. Despite the ice princess attitude that Mely first displayed in court during our “disagreement” in front of Judge Bowe, I’d have to say that her impression is spot on.
“What do you know of her?” I prod quietly.
Larkin jolts slightly in surprise. “What do you mean? Don’t you know anything about her?”
“Not really,” I admit. “Hasn’t been much time for deep conversation?”
“But you kissed her?” she points out.
“Well, the first time was to shut her up,” I say casually and can’t help but chuckle at the way Larkin’s mouth falls open. I tap her chin with my knuckles so she shuts it and say, “Second kiss… that was all her.”
“You’re rotten,” Larkin says as she shakes her head, having no clue I’m being more serious than not with her at this moment.
“What have you learned?” I push at her again. Girls talk and I want to know.
“Hmm,” Larkin says as her fingertip circles the glass mug in front of her. “Well, she’s from New York… Manhattan, and her family is really wealthy from what I can tell.”
Figures… name like Rothschild, and all.
“She’s an interior designer who started flipping property about five years ago,” Larkin continues. “Found she was good at it, but only does it on the side. Her real business is in high-end interior design for residential homes. Like she travels all over the country doing it.”
I can see that. Mely is probably the most put together and stylish woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve got no clue what goes into interior design, but she exudes an extravagant sort of air. It’s obvious she’s from money and probably knows what to do with it at the same time.
“Does she normally flip historic properties?” I ask, now sort of curious about the type of money that could be involved. It is by no means a cheap endeavor to make the upgrades she’s got planned, even if some of the labor I’m providing is free. Bringing a home several decades into the future isn’t inexpensive.
Larkin shakes her head. “She’s not flipping Mainer House.”
“She’s not?” I ask, jerking backward in surprise. “I’d heard she was flipping it. Bought it cheap and planned to turn it for a profit.”
“Who told you that?” she asks instead.
“What does it matter?” I ask, even though for the life of me, I can’t remember where I heard that. Of course, in a small town. I could have heard it at Wilson’s Gas Station and Wine Shop, or over at Central Cafe over breakfast, or even sitting here in Chesty’s having a beer. I heard it somewhere though.
“Her grandma was from around this area,” Larkin says. “I think she said Milner. But she had some sort of connection to Mainer House, so it’s a sentimental purchase for her. She plans on living there at least part time.”
A confluence of emotions rush through me all at once. A jolt of happiness to know Mely won’t necessarily be leaving permanently at some point, as well as an immense curiosity as to what her family’s connection to the house is, as well as a tiny stab of residual anger that she bought that house for clearly a personal reason, which sort of adds a finality to my family’s history there. A new history is going to be established when she moves in.
“Does that bother you?” Larkin asks, and I blink at her.
“No, why would it?” I say with a casual shrug.
“You just looked funny for a minute.”
“Well, not really any of my business, right?” I ask before raising my glass to drain it. “I mean… it’s her house. She owns it. Doesn’t really matter the why of it, right?”
“It does bother you,” she exclaims as she jabs a finger into my chest. “Why, Lowe?”
“It’s just…” I blurt out and then lower my voice along with my mug to the counter. Leaning in closer to my sister, I say, “It’s just… you know how important that house was to me. To keep it in the family. It was almost easier to let it go to a stranger. To someone who would start a fresh history with it, so I guess ours would be preserved and be more cherished. But knowing Mely has a connection to our family’s house, and she gets to stay there and foster that connection while it’s gone for us? Well… it’s just a little awkward now that I know her.”
“I’m sorry, Lowe,” Larkin says sympathetically as she puts a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s fine,” I say brusquely as I stand up from my stool. “I’m going to head home and get some dinner.”
“We could go over to Central Cafe,” she suggests. “Tonight’s meatloaf special night.”
“Nah,” I say as I lean in and plant a kiss on my sister’s cheek. “Maybe some other time.”
I’d rather be alone tonight to brood. I’m feeling all kinds of funky about Melinda Rothschild again, and I hate that this house has caused so many conflicting emotions within me. Why I’m the one in the family that got hit with this kind of sentimentality deep down is beyond me, but I can tell you it freaking sucks.