The Family Gathering

by Robyn Carr

  And something had changed with his siblings. Or with him. For the first time he considered them friends, not just family he was stuck with. He’d never been good about keeping in touch and the Army had always provided him with plenty of excuses. If he didn’t feel like checking in with them, then the Army, he could say, had other plans for him and he couldn’t get away. At the moment, for whatever reason, he wanted to be around them. Could it be they’d finally all grown up?

  He went to the bar and grill in town for lunch. It looked like the bartender was just coming on duty. She was tying on her apron and talking to another employee, nodding vigorously and smiling. The man put a hand on her shoulder as she tied the last knot in the apron. Then she washed her hands and went behind the bar. “How can I help you?” she asked pleasantly.

  “How about a hamburger, fries and Coke.”

  She flipped the menu around for him. “I have seven burgers for you to choose from. We’re famous for them.”

  “What’s your favorite?” he asked.

  She pointed to one of the burgers. “The Juicy Lucy with bacon and pickles, hold the onion. The cheese is on the inside. That’s my meal.”

  “Thanks,” he said, squinting at her nametag. “Sid?”

  “Sid,” she confirmed. “Short for Sidney. And how would you like that burger cooked?”

  “Medium,” he said.

  “Excellent,” she said. Then he watched her go to her pay station to punch his order into the computer.

  This was his first visit to this pub. It was all dark wood with red leather bar stools and booths, red leather chair seats at the tables. It wasn’t real big but he assumed they could pack ’em in at happy hour. He took the menu and looked through it. The bar was open from eleven to eleven, no breakfast menu. They probably rolled the sidewalks up around here at nine every night. There was nothing fancy on the menu—just burgers, flat bread pizzas, salads, ribs and miscellaneous bar food. They did have a kids’ menu. And chili.

  The bar was beautifully crafted, with an ornately carved back wall with a mirror so he could admire himself. He chuckled and took a drink of his Coke, but he was watching Sid. She greeted everyone. One older couple, probably in their seventies, came into the pub and she leaned across the bar to give them each a hug, laughing with them. Everyone knew her, it seemed. And she presided over the bar as her domain. He watched her laughing and talking while throwing together two tall Bloody Marys for her elderly friends. She put them on a tray and walked around the bar to serve them at their booth. She chatted with them for a moment.

  Relatives? he wondered.

  She brought him his lunch. “It’s going to be hot,” she said. “Enjoy.”

  He was immediately disappointed. She was gone so fast.

  He took a bite of the hamburger, burned his mouth but wouldn’t let on. He closed his eyes, chewed slowly and swallowed. When he opened his eyes Sid was standing there, smiling at him.

  “Burned your mouth, didn’t you?” she said.

  He nodded clumsily. “How could you tell?”

  “Your eyes. Tears. Slow down, buddy. I’m not going to take it away from you.”

  And then she whirled away again. She served up a couple of sodas, two beers and a glass of wine. But she came back.

  “Well? How is it?”

  “Outstanding,” he said. “As you know. But I would have put a couple of jalapeños on it.”

  She tilted her head, thinking about that. “Not a bad idea. I skip the onions so I don’t drive away business.”

  “This is a popular place,” he commented, making conversation.

  “It’s almost the only game in town. We don’t compete with the diner—they’re better for breakfast, pie, soup, hot meals like roast beef, meat loaf, chicken pot pie. Home cookin’.” She smiled.

  “Well, you’re right about the burger. Damn near burned my tongue off,” he added with a laugh. “You seem to know everyone.”

  She gave the counter a wipe. “That takes about three days around here. And you’re not from around here.”

  “I’m visiting,” he said. “I have some family nearby but today was a good day to look around. Have you been here all your life?”

  “Unlike most of the population, no. Not from around here. Born and raised in South Dakota, worked a few years in California and now I’m here for a while.”

  “We have that in common,” he said. “What’s ‘a while’ for you?”

  She shook her head absently. “It’s been a little over a year so far. I didn’t plan that.”

  “What’s holding you?”

  “Besides the clean air, views, weather and people?” she asked with a lifted brow. “This is my brother’s place. I intended to help out for a little while, but...” Another shrug. He understood that—his future plans were full of shrugs, too.

  “Your brother has a nice little place,” he said.

  “So, where do you come from?” she asked.

  He stopped himself from wincing. He’d have to remember to ask Sierra and Cal if everyone knew they all grew up in a bus. “I’m fresh out of the Army. I’m going to take a little time to decide what’s next. I’m going to see if there’s any work around here to keep me while I think it out. Like you said, lots to like around here.”

  “Army? That’s a big commitment.”

  “I went in as a kid,” he said. Then he picked up his burger to avoid explaining any more to this completely pleasant bartender.

  “Well, if you like the outdoors, you’ll enjoy your stay.”

  A woman sat down at the bar, leaving just a stool to separate them. “Can I get a chicken Caesar?” she asked Sid before Sid even had a chance to greet her.

  “You bet. Anything to drink?”

  “Water,” she said. And then she was texting on her phone.

  He didn’t turn on his stool to look at her, but as he ate his hamburger he caught sight of her in the mirror behind the bar. She was very beautiful, her mahogany hair falling forward as she concentrated on her phone. He bit and chewed, and as his eyes moved just slightly left, he caught sight of Sid, but she shifted her gaze quickly. It made him smile. She was watching him and everyone else. She might have wanted to see how he reacted to the woman beside him.

  He looked at Sid. She was in her thirties, he guessed. Her long hair was blond. Or reddish blond. She had that freckly pale skin of an Irish lass. She was quick, physically and verbally. And she didn’t flirt, but she was friendly. Or maybe neighborly was a better word. She treated him like she treated everyone else in the bar.

  He was almost finished with his burger by the time Sid placed the salad in front of the woman at the bar. She shook out her napkin, placed it on her lap and picked up her fork. Then she looked at him and smiled. “Hi,” she said. “I’m sorry, I should have been more polite and said hello when I first sat down.”

  “Think nothing of it,” he said, picking up a couple of fries. “You were busy. Texting, I assume. Our world’s great new communication tool.”

  She laughed lightly. “Actually, checking social media. It’s a convenient way to stay up-to-date on friends and events, et cetera.”

  He just nodded and chewed. He’d been able to avoid indulging in the big social media machine. He was guilty of communicating by texts and emails, however.

  “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before,” she said. “I’m Neely.”

  “Dakota,” he said, giving her a smile.

  “Passing through?” she asked.

  He tilted his head and gave that now-automatic shrug. “Visiting,” he said. “I have a brother not far from here. You?”

  “Me? I’m a new resident. I have a couple of business interests in town but I actually live in Aurora, not too far from here.”

  “Is Aurora a nice place to live?” he asked, shifting the discussion from him.

 
“It is,” she said, dabbing her lips with her napkin, leaving red lipstick stains on the white cloth. He glanced at Sid and caught her again, watching. “I couldn’t find anything around here I liked but there’s more to choose from in Aurora. And there’s more to do, more restaurants, more shopping, a little more culturally upmarket, more of everything. But then, Timberlake is more of a sportsmen and ranchers and tourists kind of place. Of course, the population is much larger in Aurora. So,” she said, spearing some salad. “Married?”

  He chuckled. That was direct. “No,” he said. And he didn’t volley the question back to her.

  “And how do you make a living, Mr....?”

  “Dakota is fine. I’m just out of the Army. I have an interview with the county. I’m thinking of maybe picking up trash. I hear the benefits are excellent.”

  There was a sound from down the bar but Neely didn’t appear to have heard it. Dakota knew where that had come from. Sid was amused. He was sure she’d snickered.

  “Sounds like dirty work,” Neely said.

  “I hear they give you gloves,” he said. Then he asked himself why he was doing this. She was bold. Bolder even than Alyssa. He must be giving off some kind of scent—available man who is in dire need. “The pay is good,” he added. “And that’s why we have showers.”

  “And I’m sure it’s temporary,” she said.

  “And how do you make a living?” he asked, and immediately regretted it.

  “I’m into a lot of different things. I’ve been lucky. I’m invested in a few businesses and properties. And that, my friend, turns out to be a full-time job.”

  “I’m sure,” he said.

  “Isn’t this the best little bar?” she asked, to which he agreed. And she commented on this being the best time of year. She asked him if he liked to hunt or fish and he said he hoped to do some of that. She told him, between bites of her salad, that she was reading the most wonderful book about fly-fishing in Montana and she couldn’t believe how much it made her want to try it. He answered her superficial questions without giving away too much personal information. He did not offer to teach her fly-fishing. He didn’t elaborate on his connections here. Until he knew what was going on all around him, he didn’t throw out information.

  But he noticed things. She wore very nice clothes—knee-high boots and a brushed-leather skirt. A red sweater that showed off a nice figure. A shawl rather than a jacket. Her watch was expensive looking but he was no expert on women’s jewelry. She had model-quality makeup. And the nails...

  If this woman had walked into the officer’s club, he’d have beat everyone to the front of the line to buy her a drink. But here, he just didn’t.

  They had a pleasant, meaningless conversation. Sid took his plate, refilled his Coke and put his bill on the bar. Neely took a few more bites of salad and then blotted her lips, looked at her watch and said, “Well, I’m off. Late again.” She fixed her black wrap around her shoulders and stood. “Hey, I have an idea. I have a reservation for one for dinner tonight. A very interesting and cozy little restaurant in Aurora—Henry’s. I’d be pleased to make it for two. Let me take you to dinner as a welcome-to-Colorado gesture. And maybe we’ll get to know each other better.”

  “That’s very nice of you,” he said, not standing. “I’m afraid I have plans tonight. But thank you.”

  She very confidently turned over the receipt for her lunch, popped out a pen and scribbled on the back. The name of the restaurant and her phone number. Also, 7:00 p.m. “Sometimes plans change,” she said, and then she winked at him.

  Really, she winked. This was a moral dilemma. She was sex waiting to happen. He wasn’t above that.

  Sid was suddenly standing in front of him. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “You were right about the burger,” he said. “Outstanding.”

  “You had a good lunch, then,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  “It was the most interesting one in Timberlake so far.”

  “Oh?” she said, raising her tawny eyebrows.

  “You’re not fooling me,” he said. “You heard every word.”

  “Oh, of course I didn’t,” she said. “I never do!”

  “You’re full of shit, Sid,” he said, grinning. He threw some bills on the bar and told her to keep the change. And he left Neely’s receipt on the bar.

  Dakota had a very productive afternoon. He checked on Sully, did a little restocking for him, had coffee with old Frank, who was like a fixture at the store, and saw Sierra when she came by the Crossing to see if she was needed for anything.

  “Want to come to dinner tonight?” she asked him. “It’s just me and Molly. I’m thinking grilled cheese and a chick flick.”

  “Oh God, that’s so hard to pass up,” he said. “I’m going to take my chances on Cal’s big screen. There has to be something on. Or I could read...”

  Sully snorted.

  “Hey, I can read!”

  “I’m sure you can,” Sully said.

  “I guess that was a no,” Sierra said.

  “If you want me to come over, I will,” he said.

  “As a matter of fact, I enjoy my nights alone with the dog,” she said. “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do okay on my own, too,” he said. But he kissed her forehead in a very sweet big-brotherly fashion.

  At six thirty he entered the bar and grill in Timberlake and sat up at the bar. It was only moments before Sid saw him. She pleasured him with a sly half smile. She put down a napkin in front of him. “You’re going to be late.”

  “For what?” he asked, showing her his megawatt smile.

  “Dinner at the chichi restaurant, which isn’t Henry’s by the way. It’s Hank’s. And it’s expensive. She was buying, you idiot.”

  “She winked at me,” he said. “I was terrified.”

  She threw her head back, her strawberry blond ponytail rippling in time to her laughter. “I bet you were torn,” she said when she stopped.

  “Okay, truth, I thought about it for a second. But my experience is, that is not a good sign. If it’s that bold, it’s loaded. With trouble.”

  She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know anything about her.”

  He grinned at Sid and it was completely genuine. “You are such a liar.”

  “And what can I get you?” she asked.

  “A beer. Whatever is on tap.”

  “Are you having anything to eat with that?”

  “No. I’ll be thinking about food with my next beer. I bet you see and hear some stuff in here.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. She served him up a beer. “I had to sign a confidentiality agreement to work here. Your priest isn’t as safe as I am.”

  “Cocky,” he said. “You hear a lot of jokes, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m even learning to tell a few. I have to practice in front of the mirror.”

  “I bet you don’t,” he said with a laugh. “I’m very experienced in talking to bartenders and you’re not what you seem.”

  “I can assure you, I’m exactly what you see,” she said.

  “Okay, what did you do before bartending?” he asked.

  “Don’t you think that’s a little personal?” she returned.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Unless you were in the Secret Service or something.”

  “If I was, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.”

  “If you were, you’d have a cover,” he said. He disarmed her with his smile.

  “I worked in computers,” she said. “Very dull. In a room without windows. Figuring out programs and stuff. It’s what everyone in California is doing these days. What did you do in the Army?”

  He leaned back, almost satisfied. “I mostly trained to go to war and then went to war. My last shift
was Afghanistan. And that’s when I decided I’d rather pick up trash.”

  “Really? That sounds like a dramatic change.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Do you know a guy named Tom Canaday?”

  “Sure. I know Tom. Everyone knows Tom.”

  “I met him. Hell of a nice person, Tom. He’s had all kinds of jobs, being a single father and all. He said roadwork, refuse pickup and plowing in winter pay very well and have great benefits. He said he still works for the county part-time.”

  “You weren’t kidding about picking up trash,” she said. And then her cheeks turned a little pink.

  “Aha! I knew it! You never miss a thing!” He laughed at her.

  “How’d you meet Tom?” she asked.

  “If I tell you, promise not to tell your other customers?” She put a hand on her hip and just glared at him. “He did some work for my brother. My brother had a remodeling job and Tom helped.”

  “Well, that makes sense,” she said. “Tom has worked all over this valley. He even did some work in this bar.”

  Dakota looked around. “I don’t know what he did but it’s a good-looking bar. Now back to you. Why’d you trade computers for bartending?”

  She sighed. “Rob, my brother, is also a single father. His wife died and their kids were very young. So, he changed his life, moved here with the boys, bought this bar and it worked for him. He has some good employees so his schedule is flexible—he can leave someone else in charge and be available for the boys. They’re fourteen and sixteen now and active. But then his manager gave notice and quit and he needed help right about the same time I wanted a change. Who better than Aunt Sid? And, as it turns out, I like this.” She flung an arm wide. “I now have windows and everything.”

  “Really different, though, isn’t it?” he asked.