“He ever talk to you?”
“Oh sure.” And he had. Billy had been reasonably friendly, saying hello to everyone, chatting with them. He’d even asked for some advice, here and there. Before he ordered the trashcans, he had asked Daniel if some new trashcans would be helpful. Daniel had assured him that, yes, new trashcans would be great. Just the ticket. That was when Daniel assumed trashcans would be around twenty bucks, and that Billy would buy two or three of them. Not eight of them. Not at eighty bucks each.
The trashcans weren’t going to break the bar, it wasn’t that. It was just... well, it was just that Billy seemed to be going about things the wrong way, sort of backwards. He hadn’t been behind the bar once, he hadn’t talked to any of the customers. He was just buying things. Buying trashcans, and ice scoops, and new bar towels. Some of this was stuff the bar really did need, but some of it – a lot of it – was just fluff. Fancy coasters, new soap dispensers. And there was talk of more. New aprons, and…
“That’s another thing: he was talking about new uniforms.”
Margie’s jaw went slack. “You’re kidding. You are kidding me. Right?”
Daniel shrugged. “I heard him suggesting stuff. Bud may not go for it.”
“I like what we have now. It’s enough. What’s he expect? It’s a bar.” She smoothed her hands down her front and then put them on her hips, staring at Daniel expectantly. “This is fine, right?”
The staff at Bud’s Tavern wore t-shirts with the bar logo. That was the uniform. Other than that, it was up to them. Most of them wore jeans, though Gina often chose shorts or a skirt instead. Some of them wore aprons. “It seems fine to me,” Daniel said. It did. “But he was talking about trying to attract another crowd.”
“A different crowd, you mean.”
He shrugged. A younger crowd was what Billy had actually said, but Daniel didn’t want to bring that up. “They were just talking, Margie. It’s no big deal. It’s not like he’s trying to change everything.”
She sniffed a little and shrugged back. Then she leaned in to whisper. “You should be in charge, with all your experience.”
“It’s not like that. He’s just… he’s learning.” But he couldn’t quite look her in the eye. Billy wasn’t learning much, not so far. “He will learn, that’s the important thing.”
A hand went up at one of the tables: the only customer in the place at the moment. Margie moved off wait on him. It was the man with the braid that had been sitting next to Clive on St. Patrick’s Day, talking about secondhand smoke. He’d been in a couple times since then. A regular customer. Daniel looked over at Billy. Regulars. That means we’re doing pretty good, you know. When people keep coming back, that had to mean you’re doing it right. That had to mean you were doing fine.
Margie leaned on the bar with her order. The man with the braid wanted another beer. She waited for Daniel, watching Billy at the other end of the bar. A woman had joined him. “That his wife?”
“Yeah.” Daniel looked over. “And his kid’s over there too, I think.”
A squeal confirmed the kid’s presence. Margie took the beer Daniel handed her and went back to the man with the braid. When she returned, she said kids didn’t belong in bars.
“I know it. He’s here with his mother. She’ll take him out soon enough.”
“How old is he?”
Daniel wagged his head. “I forget. Seven or eight I think. His name’s Braxton.”
“Lord love a duck. What kind of a name is that?”
He laughed. He’d thought almost the same thing when he first heard it. “It’s a family name. I asked. Her grandfather.”
“Hm. Well, he still doesn’t belong in a bar. You should go tell ‘em. He can’t have kids in here.” She watched as Billy reached over the bar to grab a handful of cocktail straws for his son to play with. “Isn’t that a law or something?”
“I don’t think so. It’s just a policy. And he’s the owner’s son, or grandson, so…whatever.” Daniel kicked at the floor mat, adjusting it. “Besides, she’s taking him back out again in a minute. Look, see? They’re going.”
The woman had the boy by the hand. Braxton jumped up and down impatiently. Billy leaned over and spoke earnestly to him, and the kid nodded back enthusiastically, tugging at his mother’s arm. Eventually she kissed Billy on the cheek and they waved their goodbyes. When they left, Braxton was yelling loudly about elephants.
Billy looked over and saw Daniel and Marge watching him. “He’s excited about the zoo,” he called. “They’re going tomorrow. For the Mother’s Day stuff.” He went back to marking his catalog.
“Mother’s Day at the zoo,” Margie said quietly. “Last year, Audrey went with them. I remember Bud talking about it. That’s sad.”
“Yeah.” Daniel stuck a spoon into the tray of cherries and stirred them around. “Aud was something.”
“Wonder if he misses her. His mom. He must miss her, right?”
Daniel looked at Billy, his nose buried in the catalog. “Dunno. Probably.”
“Do you miss your mother?”
Daniel continued to stir the cherries absently. He didn’t miss his mother, not anymore. He’d finished missing her a good while before she finally died, and that had been a long time ago. He’d visited her regularly, though, in the home and the hospital, and at the end in the hospice. Even when he didn’t want to see her, he went. What would people have thought if he didn’t?
So he had gone. Birthdays, holidays. Easter, with boxes of candy she couldn’t taste; Mother’s Day, with armfuls of lilies that she couldn’t smell. On the last visit he’d paid her, she’d thought he was one of the doctors, and kept asking him to refill her prescriptions. She’d said she didn’t believe she’d ever had any children. He wondered why that didn’t hurt more than it had.
“Sure, I miss her,” he lied. “But it wasn’t a surprise. We knew she was dying.”
“Do you think that makes it easier?”
Daniel kicked the floor mats again. “Maybe.”
Chapter 44
On Sunday, when he knocked on Ellie’s door, there was no answer. It was the first time in months that had happened, and it worried him. He had been a little concerned about her in the first place, of course; that was why he was here to begin with. He imagined Mother’s Day had to be pretty hard for her.
He knocked again, then pressed his ear to the door, listening. He didn’t hear anything. Gringo lay on the porch, his ear twitching each time Daniel knocked.
He went around the side of the house and yelled, rapping at the windows there. Some were open a crack, as usual. She’s gonna get herself robbed. “Dammit, Ellie,” he muttered, making his way around to the back.
The rear windows were closed, at least, and the back door was locked. Daniel circled the house and came back to the porch. Gringo sat up, watching him. He pounded on the door again and then stood there, feeling foolish and having flashbacks to the old days. Days when Ellie never answered her door for him, nights when he’d stood here on this ratty old porch under the ratty old tree and beat on the door until he was red in the face, with the old dog barking his fool head off and Greg’s giant porch light shining into the street like a sun.
Well. Maybe she had gone somewhere. To get her mind off things. But where would she go? The zoo? He doubted that.
He petted Gringo absently. “She’s fine,” he said.
But what if she wasn’t? Visions of her lying in the tub with a broken hip played across his mind, followed by worse ideas. Suicide wasn’t a stranger here, after all. Suicide had an all-day pass at the Neal house. Or…he glanced at the half-open front window. What if someone had broken in? Would Gringo have done anything?
“This is ridiculous,” he said loudly. “She’s fine.” He removed the screen, tugged the front window open all the way and stuck his head inside. “Ellie! Ellie, answer me!” When she didn’t, he sat back on his heels and considered his options. Gringo sat next t
o him, panting but unconcerned. Useless guard dog. He’d suggested a beware of dog sign once, and Ellie had laughed at him. She’d asked what good that would do if there was no barking to go along with it and he’d let the matter drop.
He was sure he could boost himself through the window, but decided against that. He still had a key, after all. He went back home to retrieve it, then stood at Ellie’s door again, hesitating. He knocked one last time, then used the key and stepped inside, feeling like an intruder. Which he was, technically. The hallway smells were familiar now to him, but they were still the smells of someone else’s home.
He looked around the house for her, but she was nowhere to be found. In one of the back bedrooms, more boxes had been piled up. Herb’s clothes, some toys. Daniel turned a few of the toys over and wondered if they had been her son’s toys or her granddaughter’s. It didn’t make much difference, in the end. Now they were nothing to anyone, unless they were a source a pain to Ellie, and probably that was the way most toys ended up.
The dolls, though. Those were most likely the girl’s. He picked up one and tugged her dress back into position. A little red button at the back had come undone, and Daniel fiddled with it briefly. His fingers were almost too large to work such a tiny button. When he got it secured, he tossed the doll back on the pile. Probably Ellie would ask him to make another trip to the Goodwill. Or the church. Or the women’s shelter. There were endless places to take things, after all. If you didn’t want something, there was always someone who did. One man’s junk… Daniel wondered if Goodwill had someone to donate things to when they didn’t sell. Maybe.
How much more of this stuff could she have? Daniel had already taken box after box and sack after sack, but this looked like another entire load. At least. He stuck his head into the closet briefly and saw there were still scads of clothes there. He flipped through a few of the hangers absently, wondering where Ellie had gone. Perhaps for a walk; she had said she needed more exercise. Well, good for her. She should get out more. Hadn’t he just been saying that very thing? Yes, she needed to get out more. So she had, that was all. And she’d be back soon. He closed the closet door abruptly.
Daniel turned and made his way back down the musty hall, making a mental note to come on Wednesday and get Ellie’s swamp cooler going. It was hot in here, stifling, even with so many windows open.
As he got ready to lock the door back up, he noticed the dog’s water dish was empty. “That’s no good,” he said, crouching to pick up the bowl. He went back inside and filled it at the sink, then carried it, sloshing, to its place by the door. “Too hot a day not to have water, right Gringo?”
But the dog wasn’t on the porch anymore.
Chapter 45
Clive sipped his whiskey. “Dan, Dan. What’s up with you today? How’s the old dog treating you? You still giving him bones?”
Daniel arranged his shot glasses on the shelf. “I only did that once.” He turned and leaned on the back of the bar, one ankle over the other. Margie approached with her tray.
“Gimme a glass of ginger ale, Danny. Please.” When he did, she sipped at it and sighed. She looked at Clive and waved at him with her pinkie as she sipped.
“Hello dear,” Clive said. “Pass me one of those menus if you would.”
She reached for one. “Sure thing. New menu, you know.” She made a face as she handed it to him. “Hope you weren’t in the mood for a Chili Dog.”
“No hotdogs anymore?”
“No Chili,” she said.
Clive reached for the menu. “This is a little different.” He arched an eyebrow at Daniel. Daniel arched his eyebrow in return, then looked down at the floor. What could he say? Billy hadn’t asked him about it, of course.
Margie snorted. “It’s a bar. What’s he thinking?”
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know.” The staff was dismayed by the new menu. It was almost twice the size of the old one. Billy had added an array of items, including a vegetarian section with lots of salads. His wife had complained there were no options for vegetarians on the old menu. She’d had a point. But so far, nobody was ordering the salad. Of course they weren’t. Billy had also removed several items from the menu. If he’d taken off just the poor sellers, it would have been fine. But Billy had taken off items that were popular with the regulars. Chili, for example. And, as a result, Chili Dogs.
Clive handed the menu back. “At least my onion rings are still there. But no Chili Dog, that’s harsh. I guess he’s trying. Do something of his own with it. What’s Bud’s take on all this?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“He’s making all sorts of changes,” Margie said. “Did you see the new plates he ordered?”
Daniel nodded. He’d seen them. They weren’t cheap, either. “What can I do? He’s in charge.”
“And these stupid name tags. Every time I turn around the damn pin’s come loose. I stabbed myself at least five times today. Cheap shit things.”
“At least you got the right name,” Daniel said. “Kiki got Enrique. He was pretty pissed off.” Billy had taken most of the names directly off the payroll records. Kiki had told Daniel he thought Billy should have known, by now, what he thought of that name. “He said if he had to wear Enrique, then Billy should have to wear William Junior.”
“Did he say that to Billy?”
“No.” Daniel laughed lightly. “Hell no. But I think he’s asked for a new tag.”
“They’ll probably charge him five bucks for it. That’s what Billy told me, if we lose ‘em. Five bucks each.”
“Billy. Billy, Billy, Billy.” Clive finished his drink and signaled for another. “William Junior, what are we gonna do with you?”
“Who’s William Junior?” Hector asked, coming out with a fresh rack of glasses.
“Billy. It’s short for William.”
Hector stood, looking confused. “William who?”
“William Junior,” Daniel said, placing the whiskey on a fresh coaster and slipping it across the bar to Clive. The coaster didn’t slide smoothly and he almost overturned the drink. Damn these coasters, anyway. The old ones were better, and cheaper. But of course, they weren’t new enough for Billy. Nothing was new enough for Billy.
Hector still looked confused. Clive laughed at him. “Bud’s name is William. Billy, that’s Will Junior.”
Comprehension dawned on Hector’s face and he smiled. “Oh. I’ve been calling him Bud Light.”
Clive burst out laughing and Margie swatted him gently with her tray. “You guys better not call him that where he can hear you. He won’t like it.” She followed Hector back to the kitchen.
Daniel passed his bar towel back and forth between his hands and watched Clive sip his whiskey. “So. You see anything on the menu you fancy? Order of onion rings maybe? We have a wing special, they’re pretty good.”
Clive reached for the menu again. “Wings, Rings and other Things… I saw that. Cute. Bud Light come up with that too?”
“His wife, probably.” Billy’s wife had come up with a lot of clever, fun names. They were selling more appetizers, certainly. Wings especially. Even so, they had too many. Billy had done the ordering, and he’d overestimated the need for wings. And that was putting the best face on it, frankly. Daniel thought it was probable that Billy had not really estimated at all, but simply taken a wild guess about what to order. The bar was running out of pretzels, there was a full case of premium Olive oil that the cooks had no real use for… and the entire freezer was crammed to the gills with chicken wings, at least ten cases more than they’d needed. “Special today, half-price wings. Can’t beat that.”
“Ah, what the hell,” Clive said. “Give me the wing special, and another shot. I got nowhere to be this afternoon. They better be good, though, Dan. I’m counting on you.”
Daniel assured him again they would be good. He hoped they were, but he didn’t know. Billy had ordered a different brand of sauce. How bad could they be,
though? Maybe he’d take some home for dinner.
He poured Clive’s drink and set it on the coaster. The new coaster that wouldn’t coast. New menu, new music, new trashcans, new uniforms. He ran his finger over his name tag: Danny. Billy hadn’t taken that one from the payroll, anyway. Too bad. He preferred Daniel. Not that anyone knew or cared.
Chapter 46
Daniel carefully balanced his box of chicken wings on top of the mailbox while he got his mail, then heard Ellie calling to him from her porch.
“I was worried about you,” he shouted to her, crossing over.
“Why were you worried? Come in. I need a hand with something.” She looked him up and down and her eye settled on the box. “Unless you’re in a hurry. Do you mind?”
Of course he didn’t mind. He followed her inside, where she directed him to stand on a stool and hand down some light bulbs from the top of the closet. “I could do it myself, maybe. I would have tried, you see. But I looked out the window and there you were.”
He stepped down lightly off the stool. “It was no trouble. Where were you yesterday?”
She blinked at him and turned toward the counter, where she set the light bulbs down and proceeded to fish one out. “Yesterday? Oh I was around, I guess. I have this old lamp that I just love, see.” She gestured at the lamp on the counter nearby. “The shade fits over the bulb. It slips on, over the glass.”
“Uh-huh.” Daniel pried up the edge of his takeout box and selected a wing. “I was here yesterday, looking for you. You didn’t answer the door.”
She slid the shade on and held the lamp out. “See how that works? But it won’t work with the new bulbs they have now. The shape is all wrong. So I’m hoarding these old bulbs.”
He ate his chicken wing and chucked the bones in the garbage. He hated to admit it, but the new sauce was delicious. “So you were home all day? I knocked and knocked.” He didn’t want to tell her he’d gone inside looking for her. Or that he’d stood in the kitchen looking at her old calendar and wondering if she’d notice if he threw it out and put up a new one.
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