Page 38 of Before the Bond
The weekend came fast, and The Blackwater Tap was exactly what I needed right now.
Warm light. Music low enough to talk over but loud enough to fill the silence between songs. The smell of spilled beer and beer nuts didn’t even bother me.
I sat at the bar counter in one of the few dresses I packed — casual, warm enough if I layered right. Normally, the only clothes I carried around for “going out” were for company conferences, but I had this in my arsenal just in case. There was the issue of “the cold,” but I preemptively wore thermal stockings and a shift dress to be safe. If that wasn’t enough, I had my parka.
Stella, even though she was manning the bar, looked even more spectacular. As she moved across the stretch of the counter, the tight swirls in her updo bounced. I envied her curling iron skills.dd
“Time for some proper fun,” Stella told me as she got back to me.
She poured me another round of a mocktail, lamenting the fact that I was driving, and promised me I wouldn’t get tipsy.
“But you will have a good time,” she said.
The bar was fuller than I expected for a town this size. Greyhollow didn't feel like a place that generated a crowd, but here they were.
“Lots of people pass through around this time of year,” Stella said. “Greyhollow’s a nice ‘pitstop’ town, andIhappen to be very good at handing out booze that makes people want to stay.”
I laughed, but part of me thought about whether or not tourists were part of the “busy season” Maureen mentioned.
Once Stella served the existing people, she moved from behind the bar to the stool next to me.
She pulled herself a whiskey glass from the corner and sipped slowly.
"Okay," Stella said, leaning both elbows on the bar. "How are you actuallydoing? Not nurse-Olivia. You."
I picked at the salt at the edge of my own glass. "Honestly?"
Stella laughed in disbelief. "What else would I mean?"
The smile I put on before I entered faded. The grain of salt I was grinding between my thumbs dissipated.
“I don’t know,” I said. The words hung in the air. "I thought I'd feel more settled by now. Usually I know what I'm doing by week three. New place, new patients, new rhythms…”
Stella tilted her head. "But?"
"Every time I think I’ve figured something out,” I said. “Something happens that puts me back at square one. It’s like frickin’ Monopoly.”
“‘Go to Jail. Do not Pass Go’ sort of deal?”
“Exactly!”
I grabbed at the curly fries Stella put in front of me.
“It sucks,” I muttered. “Everyone’s nice, but the Ashwoods?—"
"Oh, Iknowwhat they are," Stella said. She rolled her eyes. "Being around them will drive you crazy.”
“I think Jake told me something similar when I first got here.”
Stella played around with her stirrer. “Should have taken it more seriously, huh?”
“God, yeah.”
Stella giggled, but it felt harsher than the ones before the conversation. I thought back to her exchange with Donovan.
Was that what she’d been referring to?
The curly fries disappeared at an alarming rate between Stella and me.
