Page 110 of Thirst For Me
“Is Tommy coming?” I ask Mason and Layne when I find them in the kitchen with Bill.
“Uh, Grandpa had some things to do,” Layne says. “He sends his regards.”
Mason gives me a look, which I’m pretty sure I can interpret. And when Layne turns away to chat with Bill, I venture, “Tommy didn’t want to come because June was invited?”
“You’d think it would be difficult to avoid your neighbor at every single social event in a small town,” he says dryly. “However, neither one of them is very social, so it kind of works out. June must really like you to show up for this.”
“She likes Sophie,” I say.
For the next hour or so, I basically pay watery-eyed tribute to my best friend with as many toasts as I can think of. I say a dramatic goodbye to her even though she’s still coming back to the cottage with me tonight, and I give her a million sloppy hugs.
I’m not even drunk, just emotional.
Not only is she going back to Vancouver tomorrow, she’s leaving on tour later this week. Which often means I won’t see her for weeks at a time, even months.
And Mason is really cool about it, bringing me a glass of cider, checking in to see how I’m holding up when it’s clear I’m slightly falling apart.
“Yum, this may be my favorite one,” I tell him after taking a sip. It’s Citrus Zest, the first one he poured me at the bar on the day we met. “Tastes like memories.” I meet his eyes and my cheeks heat, because maybe that was TMI.
He smiles.
After my second glass, I work up the nerve to pull Mason out to the back porch—where June is already waiting, alone, because I told her I wanted to talk to her about something important.
“Oh. I see,” she says as soon as she sees me with Mason. Her back straightens.
Before she can bolt into the house, I block the way to the door, put up my hands, and implore them both, “Wait wait wait. Please. Can you both just hear out what I have to say? I have an idea.”
Mason glances at June.
June sighs irritably. “Well, get on with it. We don’t have all night.”
“Okay, look.” I take a breath, gathering my thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. And since I can’t lease out Pier Seven for my smoothie bar, my next wish would be to see one of you reviving the space and opening up a super-cool restaurant in it that the amazing people of Orchard Cove, and all the tourists who come here, can enjoy. I totally get why you’d want that, and I can see it. Diverse menu featuring fresh, seasonal offerings. Partnering with local producers, farmers, wineries. A place to showcase your own products.” I eye them both sharply. “Bothof yours.”
June continues to appear put-out. If she had a watch on, she’d probably be looking at it.
“It can be a wonderful gathering place for the community,” I press on. “It’ll bring more people to the beach at Orchard Cove. It’ll bring more people out to your cideries. And it will encouragethem to stick around for a meal rather than just having a quick cider tasting and leaving town. So, it’s win-win. And it can be more family-friendly than the bar. It can be whatever you want or need it to be. But you know what the downside is?”
Mason cocks an eyebrow, like,Where do I start?
“There’s no guarantee that ifyouopen a restaurant across the street from Mason’s bar and grill,” I say to June, “andyoukeep running your bar and grill across from June’s restaurant,” I say to Mason, “that you’ll both be able to make it work. Especially in the winter. If you remain in direct competition with each other, right across the street, you might actually kill each other’s business. The town might not be able to support more than one restaurant year-round. And if I figured this out as an outsider, you are both smart enough to know this already.”
“This is the choice she’s making,” Mason says evenly. “Sea Haven Bar and Grill has been there for years. If June wants to open up a restaurant to compete with me, so be it.”
“But don’t you see that this stubbornness, this unwillingness to work together as neighbors, may be what shoots you in the foot?”
“What is it you’re suggesting, Sierra?” June says with impatience.
“What I’m proposing is that the Grants and the Spencers join forces, to open up a new restaurant at the piertogether.”
When neither one of them jumps for joy at this idea, I feel the need to keep selling it.
“I mean, I think it’s brilliant. You both leverage your strengths and experience, and you offset the risk by sharing in the investment. Together, you’d be exactly what this town needs. Which is an end to this generations-old rivalry. Lay all your disputes to rest and start seeing each other as what you should’ve been all along: allies.”
Silence.
Inside the house, The Guess Who provides a warm, light-rock backdrop to the neighborly chatter and the clink of ice in drinks.
But outside, it’s stone-cold silence.
