Page 52 of Another Last Call
“Caleb, I—”
“I swear to God I didn’t fucking touch her,” I snapped.
“I believe you.”
My eyes were stinging. I blinked the wateriness away as I looked up to see Maggie with a concerned expression on her face.
“She won’t try to twist it,” she said, her voice unusually soothing. “I know Hannah’s an idiot, but she’s not like that. And like you said, there’s the camera. Are you okay?”
I couldn’t quite bring myself to speak, but I nodded.
“I know you… you wouldn’t,” she said. “Like, I… I know you probably want to hook up with people or whatever, but I know you wouldn’t do that kind of thing with our staff. Believe me, I appreciate that about you.”
“That I’m not a fucking pig?” I asked.
She sat on the couch, rubbing her eyes. “Yes. Be pissed about that if you want, but I’ve dealt with more than my share of pigs in this place. Me being thankful that you aren’t one of them isn’t meant to be an insult.”
I nodded again, though I doubted she saw me do it. “So we’re down a bartender now, I guess.”
“Seems to be.” She looked up at me. “I’m stretched pretty thin as is, Caleb. Any chance you’d be willing to cover a bit more while we try to hire someone?”
Of course I was.
Twenty-Seven
Maggie
Afewweeksafterthe Hannah Incident, as I’d come to think of it, Mom just had to make everything worse.
“What do you mean, theendof summer?” I cried.
Her voice was crackly and distant. “Like, the end of August. Maybe early September.”
“You said you’d be back after the snow melted,” I said. “The snow is melting. It’s almost gone. Mom, weneedyou to come back.”
“No, you don’t.”
I rested my head against the hand that wasn’t holding the phone to my ear. “Yes, we do. The bar does.Ido.”
“You said yourself the bar is doing great. And Annie’s been in touch. She says you and Caleb have everything under control.”
I tried not to burst into tears. “Yeah, but we’ve been putting off replacing Hannah because I was counting on you and Tiny Steve being back for the summer rush. It’s already started to pick up.”
“So hire someone else.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. If I opened my mouth, I would’ve started wailing, and I didn’t need Annie or Big Tim bursting into the office to see what was wrong.
“Hon?” Mom asked.
“I’ve been trying to hire someone,” I forced myself to say. “I just had an interview.”
“That’s good! So hire them. What’s holding you back?”
“Nothing,” I said. “She’s great. Her name is Tamara. She asked to be called Tammy. She and her husband moved nearby for their retirement. Her family is from India and she said she would love to add some new recipes to our menu if we’d let her. She’s wonderful.”
“So what’s the problem?”
She’s not my mom, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I sighed and drew myself up from my hunched over position at the desk.
