“What is it?” Elly yawned, turning to open the fridge and take out the carton of orange juice. She poured herself a glass, carefully balancing the phone between her shoulder and her ear.
“A fellow came by the farm yesterday,” Jack said.
“Uh-huh.” Elly wanted him to get to the point, but Jack seemed to be making an attempt at suspense.
“He wants to buy your farm.”
The phone slipped from Elly’s shoulder and crashed to the floor, the plastic case covering the battery skittering across the linoleum.
“Shit.” Elly bent and scrambled to put the phone back together. She glanced at the screen. “You still there, Jack?”
“Still here,” he confirmed. “What did you do?”
“Dropped the phone.”
“I figured you’d be excited, but that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
“A guy wants to buy the farm?” Elly repeated.
“Yeah. He’s from that big conglomerate that’s been buying up sections down near Medicine Hat. I have his card. Bernard Hamilton, of Hamilton Farms, Inc.”
“Hamilton Farms? But they own so much already. What would they want with my farm?”
“I dunno. He didn’t say exactly, just told me that they were interested and gave me his card to give to you. But you’re not going to sell the farm, are you, El?” He sounded worried.
“I’d better talk to him first before I make any sort of decision,” Elly replied. “Maybe he thinks he’ll get it for peanuts because I’m not there. You know how these big-business types are.”
“Yeah. Vultures all of them,” Jack agreed. “Got a pen?” Elly found one and a slip of paper and he rattled off the information.
“I’ll call him later,” Elly said. “Thanks for letting me know, Jack. I appreciate it.”
“Anything for you, El.” He talked further, about how the planting was going, and how he hoped for a big crop this year, but Elly wasn’t really listening. She traced over the phone number she’d written down. “Anyway, I should let you go. I have to get the barn mucked out before I head off to the store.”
“Right. I’ll talk to you later.”
“And don’t sell the farm, El. Not yet, anyway.”
“I won’t be doing anything today,” she replied. “You don’t need to worry.”
She set the phone down and stared off into space. Selling the farm hadn’t even entered into her plans. How could she possibly sell? Her family had worked the land since her great-great-grandparents’ time. She’d grown up there, her father had grown up there. She felt the wetness before she realized she was crying.
She couldn’t sell. She just couldn’t. She’d make it work, even if she had to exile herself to the city permanently. To keep the farm, keep that hope and her family alive, she’d deal with the pollution, the noise, the sirens every night, anything she had to.
*
“Hey there.” Charity nudged Elly as she stood by the pass-through. Elly blinked.
“Sorry, what?”
“Did your mind go on vacation somewhere hot?”
Elly sighed. “If only.” The thought of selling the farm had consumed her; she couldn’t think of anything else. Bernard Hamilton’s phone number sat on her kitchen counter, and for the last few days she’d fingered the piece of paper but hadn’t gotten up the nerve to call. What if the offer was significant? That would make it harder to decide. It wasn’t all about money, but yet it was.
“Snap out of it, babe,” Charity said. “Derek will get on your ass if you don’t pick up the pace. It’s almost six and it’s getting busy.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“I have a table for you.” Shay came around the half wall. “Two-four.”
Elly smoothed down her apron and went out to greet her customers. A group of three women sat at the four-top and they hardly acknowledged her, continuing their conversation. She waited, her notebook out, pen poised.
“Good evening, ladies,” she said, pitching her voice to try to cut through their chatter. “I’m Elly and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you with some drinks?”
“We’ll take a pitcher of margaritas,” one woman said, breaking off her narrative to throw a glance Elly’s way. “And when you get back, we’ll be ready to order.”
“No problem.” Elly tried to smile, but she felt out of sorts. She hurried back to the computer to punch in her order. After she’d sent the order to the bar, she lingered by the pass-through, watching Alex work.
Alex moved with efficiency, with little wasted movement as she poured drinks, cleared dishes, and helped the waitress. She stopped by the end of the bar to talk to Jan, who leaned in with a flirty smile, her earrings flashing in the light. Alex rested a hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. Elly had to look away. Jealousy shot through her and she focused on the white paper chit waiting on the machine, holding her drink order.
She grabbed a tray and waited.
Alex lingered with Jan, and Elly fidgeted, wanting to say something but not wanting to step into the bar. Derek had been clear the other night, only bartenders were to be in the bar, not restaurant servers. Cross the line at one’s own peril.
“Those women at two-four are getting antsy,” Charity said, coming up beside her.
“I know, but I need their drink order,” Elly fretted.
“Oy, Alex!” Charity bellowed.
Alex turned, her expression turning sheepish. She patted Jan’s arm, then headed toward them. “What’s up?”
“Elly needs that drink order, stat. It’s those three bitches again.”
Alex snorted. “Oh, them.” She grabbed the chit and put it on the bar, pulling out the ingredients she needed. She put the pitcher and three glasses on Elly’s tray. “Sorry, babe. Knock ’em dead.”
“Thanks.” Elly walked as fast as she could without spilling her tray, bringing the drinks to the table.
“Took you a while,” one of the women said sharply. “We’ve been ready to order for ages.”
“Sorry.” Elly served the drinks and then pulled out her notebook. “What would you like to eat?”
The three rattled off their selections and Elly struggled to keep up. When they were finished, she read back their orders.
“No, I ordered the sandwich without onions.”
Elly scribbled down the correction. The women went back to their conversation and she picked up the menus, retreating to the back of the house. She let out a breath.
“It’ll get better,” Charity said, passing behind her with a tray full of pop glasses. “Those ladies don’t give a good tip to anyone, so don’t knock yourself out.”
“Right.” Elly rang in her food order.
Shay popped her head around the wall. “You have a two-top at two-one,” she said.
“Thanks.”
Elly reminded herself that she’d done this before. She wasn’t green, but serving at the diner, where she knew everyone…it was different. It was home. She hustled out to her new table, greeting them with as much cheer as she could muster, getting nothing but disinterest in return. She retreated to the back, taking a deep breath.
“Doing all right?” Charity asked, coming out of the utility room. “Just had to change up the pop, the Coke was out.” She wiped her hands on her apron.
“I’ll be fine. Everyone has a bad night.”
“You have tomorrow off, right?”
“I do. Thank goodness.” Elly rubbed her already tired eyes.
“Sleep in, then come out for lunch with me,” Charity said. “You’re kind of new in town, and I bet you haven’t done much of anything except work. Am I right?”
“You’re right,” Elly said, though she didn’t feel like telling Charity about her evenings with Alex.
“I knew it.” Charity squeezed her shoulder. “Just get through this night, and tomorrow I’ll meet you on 17th Ave at the sushi place on the corner of 8th Street.”
“Sushi?” Elly wasn’t so sure about that, but Charity had already go
ne out to bring a food order to one of her tables.
*
Alex leaned on the bar. “El, how was your shift?” Elly rubbed her eyes, and Alex thought she seemed a bit paler than usual, her skin wan.
“Never have I been so glad to have a day off tomorrow. I don’t think I could take another night like this one.”
“Tough time?”
“Those three bitches stayed for ages and kept me running, and then I was saddled with a kid’s birthday party, and cranky parents. I think kids are great, but right now I don’t want to see one, ever.”
“Go home and rest tonight,” Alex said. “Then tomorrow, we can head out to the mountains on the bike. I’ll show you one of my favorite places.”
“I can’t, actually. I’m hanging out with Charity tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Alex hadn’t expected that. She knew it was a bit silly, but she felt disappointed. “What are you up to?”
“Lunch, for sure. No idea what else.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll have to go on my own then, I guess.” It wouldn’t be quite the same, but she’d gone on plenty of solo rides.
“Isn’t Will around?” Elly asked.
“Working tomorrow, the jerk.” Alex chuckled, gesturing at him where he played pool at the back of the bar. Lately their days off hadn’t coincided; Will was getting too much contract work and couldn’t say no.
“That’s too bad,” Elly said. “But I’m sure you’ll have fun anyway. The weather’s supposed to be hot.” She slid off the stool and Alex wished suddenly that she would stay just a little longer. She checked herself. Since when did she care so much?
“Off already?”
“Too many late nights, and not enough sleep,” Elly said. “And just stress.”
“Like what?” Alex pulled a chit from the machine and placed it in front of her, but she didn’t start making the Caesar. She looked at Elly, waiting. Elly did seem overly tired, not her usual friendly self.
“Just about the farm. It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“I can’t get into it right now,” Elly said, putting the strap of her purse over her shoulder, plainly shutting down the conversation.
“No prob. Sleep well.” Alex leaned forward, inviting a kiss, but Elly stepped back. Slowly, Alex resumed her place, as if she hadn’t tried.
“Good night,” Elly murmured. She turned and gave a quick wave as she left the bar, heading across the parking lot to her car.
“Someone’s in love,” said a singsong male voice over her shoulder.
Alex turned. Will stood there with his pool cue. He’d been playing over at the single table in the back.
“I am not,” she retorted, but Will raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, really? You sure? Looks like it to me.”
“You’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I? Remember what happened with Heather? This looks like exactly the same thing to me.”
At the mention of her ex, it was Alex’s turn to flinch. He knew she hated talking about her. “I don’t even want you to mention her name.”
“Just be careful, Alex,” Will said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I remember you after Heather, and it wasn’t pretty.” He gave her a kiss on the temple and then tweaked a lock of her hair. She elbowed him in the ribs at that, and he retaliated by tickling her sides until she squirmed away, breathless with giggles.
“Will, leave my bartenders alone, will you?” Derek said. “Alex, don’t you have work to do?”
Will lifted his pool cue and headed back to his game, and Alex slipped back behind the bar. Derek gave her a nod and retreated into the restaurant.
Alex grabbed a cloth and rinsed it in the sink, then wiped down the bar. No matter what Will had said, he was wrong. She wasn’t in love. But maybe she’d stick around town instead. Lots to do, and she needed a few new shirts.
Chapter Twelve
“You look a little more alive today,” Charity said as Elly met her on the corner of 8th Street and 17th Avenue. It was only a few blocks from her apartment, and she’d walked, finally taking in some of the sights. She’d been so busy and needing to husband her cash that she hadn’t really gotten out to explore the neighborhood. And truth be told, being in the city again, this close to downtown, unnerved her a bit. There were so many people. And though she tried not to be a worrywart, being out after dark always concerned her.
“I slept fairly well,” Elly replied. “So, where are we going for lunch?”
“Any preference?”
Elly shrugged. “I haven’t been anywhere yet, so no. Not really.”
“Excellent.” Charity grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the side of an older brick building. “I know just the place.”
They walked around the corner and Charity led her down a set of stairs, into a restaurant done in a minimalist white and silver. Elly sniffed, wrinkling her nose. “Fish?”
“Sushi,” Charity corrected. “I woke up this morning with a total craving after thinking about it last night.”
“Raw fish?” Elly knew she sounded like a little kid, but she couldn’t stop from making a face. She’d hoped Charity hadn’t actually wanted to go for sushi.
“You’ve never had sushi before?” Charity boggled, her eyes wide. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re like the only person I know who hasn’t.”
“No sushi in Cardston,” Elly said. “People like their fish cooked there, preferably fried.”
“Ew.” It was Charity’s turn to wrinkle her nose. “That’s such a waste. Come on, El, I’ll make sure you only get the good stuff.”
The hostess led them to a table and left them with menus. Elly read down the list, but the names didn’t make much sense to her.
“Do you like tuna?” Charity asked. “Or salmon?”
“Yes to both,” Elly said. “Cooked.”
“What about crabmeat?”
“Had it once, it was all right,” Elly conceded.
“Then I know what we’ll start with.” Charity made a few notations on the list, and when the waiter came by, she handed it to him. “And we’ll have a small bottle of sake, and some water,” she added.
Elly scanned over the larger menu the waiter had left. “I can have this teriyaki chicken,” she said. “It’s cooked. And it sounds tasty.”
“Just try some sushi first,” Charity said, “and if you hate it, you can order that. And we can order some tempura too. It’s fried, but tastier than fish and chips.”
The waiter came back with two glasses of water, a small ceramic carafe, and two ceramic cups that looked about the size of thimbles. Charity took the carafe gingerly by the top, wincing. “It’s hot,” she said, “but it’s best to drink sake hot, especially if you’ve never had it before.” She poured some of the clear liquid into the two thimble-cups and pushed one across to Elly. “Cheers.”
Elly lifted the cup and sniffed. There was a faint scent of alcohol, but aside from the heat, it seemed quite harmless.
“Mmmm.” Charity sipped her sake, closing her eyes. “I knew this was a good idea.”
Elly lifted the cup to her lips and took a cautious, tiny sip. The sake burned on her tongue and down her throat as she swallowed, and she coughed. It was like drinking straight alcohol, vodka maybe, but with more burn. Her eyes watered, and she wanted to switch to water and not even look at the sake again.
“Try one more sip,” Charity urged. “It does get better, I promise.”
Charity looked so expectant, so hopeful, that Elly didn’t have the heart to refuse. She took a second sip, and it was easier. Her mouth and throat had already been shocked once, and this second sip went down smoothly. Her eyes watered again, and she dabbed at them with the sleeve of her shirt.
“Not bad,” she said, her voice a bit croaky.
“Good.” Charity took another, longer sip of hers, then refilled her cup. “Sushi without sake is just wrong, somehow.”
The waiter came by with a long whi
te dish, upon which were artfully arranged bits of raw fish and rice, a sort of roll with crab salad in the middle, and some green stuff Elly didn’t know sandwiched between fake plastic grass and a slimy pile of pink slivers. She was sure her face went green just looking at it.
“So, there are salmon and tuna, and the rolls are California rolls. There’s nothing uncooked about those—it’s that already-cooked crab, with some mayo and seaweed.” Charity gestured with her chopsticks before taking a small dish from the side and pouring soy sauce into it. She picked up some of the green stuff—“Wasabi,” she said helpfully—and mixed it in.
Elly copied her, but when she went to put wasabi in, Charity put out a hand. “Best leave that for the first try,” she said. “It’s a bit on the hot side.” She picked up a piece of salmon on rice and dipped it into her soy sauce. “Enjoy.”
Elly tried a piece, dipping it in the sauce, then biting it in two. She chewed, and the fish was surprisingly tender, not slimy at all. The soy sauce was salty, and it went well with the fish, which seemed to melt in her mouth. She swallowed.
“Well?” Charity waited, her chopsticks poised over a piece of tuna.
“Not bad,” Elly said. “Better than I expected, even.”
“So you’re not a country bumpkin,” Charity teased. “Try the California rolls next—I think you’ll like those.”
Elly finished her salmon and reached out for a roll. In no time at all, it seemed they’d finished their order, and Elly couldn’t remember ever finding fish so delicious, except for maybe the ones her father had caught in the river and fried in butter and pepper.
Charity sipped her sake and sat back in her chair. Elly took another sip of hers.
“Do you want more?” Charity asked.
“A few more.” The rice had filled her more quickly than she’d expected. When the waiter passed by, Charity got his attention and ordered several more rolls.
“Now that we’ve sated some of our massive hunger—or maybe just mine, whatever—tell me about how you met Alex.”
Elly felt her cheeks warm, and she hoped she could blame it on the sake. “Not much to tell, really.” She didn’t want to tell Charity about her one-night stand with Alex on the farm. It was her own special memory, even if right now Alex wasn’t what she’d expected.
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