Page 48 of Another Last Call
I smiled politely as I set a few pints of beer in front of the people at the next table. “Well, if you know anyone looking for a job, tell ‘em I’ve got an extra apron ready in the back.”
“Um… I’m looking for a job,” said a quiet voice to my left.
The source of it was a girl who didn’t look a day over eighteen, even though she was closer to nineteen, which I only knew because I’d IDed her when she ordered a Marble Beach iced tea. She had long, light blonde hair that was pin-straight, white skin that was tanned and freckled, and a shy, sweet air about her. She was sitting with her parents, people I vaguely knew who owned a farm a few minutes outside of Marble Beach.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Hannah,” she said.
“You ever waited tables before?”
“No, but I’ve been feeding the chickens and pigs since I was old enough to walk.”
“That’s about the same as feeding this lot,” Fred said.
I regarded her for another moment, then shrugged. “Alright. You want a job, it’s yours. Go to the back and ask Annie to give you an apron.”
It probably wasn’t the smartest way to hire someone, but it worked out. Hannah was as quick to learn as she’d said, and since most people were done ordering food, Big Tim stepped out of the kitchen to help her while I went upstairs and grabbed my guitar. There was a loud cheer when I returned and though I didn’t play for long, it was enough to keep the chaotic spirit thriving until closing time.
“Well, we did it,” Caleb said when we’d finally managed to shut down for the night.
“Barely,” I said, sighing as I turned around to survey the disaster that was the dining room.
It took us a while to clean up, but Big Tim and Annie stuck around to help while Caleb took Hannah to the office to do the paperwork so we could officially hire her. Once she was done, Annie offered to drive her home and I went into the office so we could count the tills and close the books for the night.
“Kitchen’s all cleaned up,” Big Tim said as he came into the office a while later with two plates of food. “Here. You kids haven’t eaten yet tonight. Bacon burger with fries and gravy, and the spicy chicken sandwich with poutine for you, Mags.”
Caleb let out a groan that was almost sexual as he reached for the bacon burger. “Thanks, man. This is amazing.”
“Anytime. You need anything else from me tonight?”
I shook my head. “You’re free to go. Thank you for dinner.”
“Night, Mags. Congrats on a kick-ass grand re-opening.” Then he clapped Caleb, who’d already taken a huge bite of his burger, on the shoulder with one large hand. “You too, boss. See ya tomorrow.”
Twenty-Five
Caleb
Itwasthebestand worst winter of my life.
Re-opening The Sea Glass went better than either Maggie or I had ever dared to hope. Some of the renewed loyalty from the community was probably because they’d almost lost their only local bar, but the changes made a huge difference, too. There weren’t any nights as insane as that first one, but business stayed steady.
Although she was hired because we were busy and she happened to tell Maggie she was looking for a job, Hannah ended up being a great employee. She was young—veryyoung—but eager and smart. She only worked a couple of days a week, mainly to earn some extra cash and get off the farm when she could, but that was okay. We trained her as both a bartender and a server so whatever role we needed most on any given day, she could fill.
We fell into a routine at the bar. I wanted to hire another server, since Maggie had taken over more of the management stuff that her mom used to do, but she steadfastly refused. We weren’t busy enough for that, she said, and between me and Hannah, we’d replaced the hours we’d lost when Josie and Tiny Steve left town.
“And Mom’ll be back in the spring,” she would add. “She’ll want to come back to work. Maybe Tiny Steve, too. We can make it work for the winter.”
So she worked six days a week, taking Tuesdays off when the bar was closed. Annie would come in early to prep for the day like she always did, and Maggie would go in just before the bar opened at lunch. I’d go in later in the day so I could bartend in the evenings, though I spent most of the afternoons dealing with marketing and the few bits of paperwork Maggie hadn’t got to. Big Tim was off Tuesdays and Wednesdays, Hannah would work weekend evenings, and we had our few other staff members who would fill the other gaps.
It left me able to take Mondays and Tuesdays off most weeks so I could keep working on the renovations at the cabin. The plans had changed a bit, of course; earning back the money I’d put into The Sea Glass would take ages and I didn’t have tons of extra cash lying around to replace the supplies I’d used in the bar. But I technically had an income from the bar, so I could dip into the savings I’d put aside. So I opted to refine the bones of the house rather than completely redo them. As spring rolled around, I’d finished most of the interior work, and was just waiting for the weather to improve before I started on my dream deck.
More than anything, I felt… welcome. I felt like I waspartof Marble Beach. There was something freeing about the routine I’d built, something calming about that place, and something that almost felt like home. Big Tim became not just a co-worker but a friend in the most Big Tim way he possibly could have: late one Monday night, someone knocked on my door while I was watching TV. Confused, I’d answered, and Big Tim was standing there with a twelve pack and two bags of chips.
“Hey boss,” he said.
“Uh… hey,” I replied.
