Page 13 of Island Girl

“I know.”

“And Merritt? I'm proud of you. For doing this. I know it wasn't easy to leave.”

She felt the familiar tightness in her chest. “It wasn't easy to leave you.”

“I'm fine. I've got Tom coming over tomorrow to help me fix that loose board on the deck. And Margaret brought another casserole. I'm going to have to start freezing them.”

“You could learn to cook.”

“Let's not get carried away.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Go to work. Call me when you can. And send more pictures.”

“I will. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

She hung up and sat for a moment, letting the quiet settle around her. Then she pulled her hair back, put on her black T-shirt and jeans, and headed downstairs.

The bar was already starting to fill up when she walked in. Late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting golden light across the tables. Justin was behind the bar, setting out fresh napkins.

“How was Captiva?” he asked.

Merritt stopped. “How did you know I went to Captiva?”

“Captiva Island is where you first found a home away from home. I just assumed you’d go back there just as soon as you had free time.”

“I went to see a friend. At the Key Lime Garden Inn.”

“Maggie Moretti?”

“You know her?”

“Everyone knows Maggie. Or knows of her, at least.” He slid aglass of water across the bar to her. “Drink. Then we're going to work on your bartending skills.”

“I thought I was just running food and clearing tables.”

“You are. But I need you to be able to cover the bar if I have to step away. Nothing complicated. Just beer, wine, and a few basic drinks.” He pointed to the row of bottles behind him. “Today we're going to learn the classics. Rum and Coke. Vodka tonic. Whiskey sour. Margarita.”

“That's a lot.”

“It's four drinks. You'll be fine.” He grabbed two bottles and set them on the bar. “First rule of bartending. Confidence. Even if you don't know what you're doing, act like you do. Customers can smell fear.”

Merritt laughed. “That's reassuring.”

“Second rule. The pour.” He picked up a bottle of rum and held it over an empty glass. “Watch.” In one smooth motion, he tipped the bottle and counted under his breath. A perfect measure of rum landed in the glass. “See? Count to three, then stop. That's roughly a shot and a half. Enough to make the drink taste like something without getting anyone too drunk too fast.”

He handed her the bottle. “Your turn.”

Merritt took it and held it over another glass. Her first pour was tentative, and she stopped too soon.

“That's barely a splash. Again.”

She tried again. Too much this time.

“Better. You'll get the feel for it.” He took the bottle back. “Now, rum and Coke. Simplest drink in the world. Ice, rum, Coke, lime wedge. Done.”

They worked through the basics for the next twenty minutes, Justin patient and encouraging, Merritt slowly gaining confidence. The whiskey sour gave her trouble, something about the proportions of lemon and simple syrup, but by the end she could make a passable margarita.

“Not bad,” Justin said. “A few more practice sessions and you might actually be useful back here.”