by Jean Oram
Amy sank lower into the cushions, matching Moe’s slouch. His tone wasn’t enthusiastic. He was being Planner Moe, listing everything on the pro side of his pro/con checklist. Couldn’t he see the substantial cons of being pinned to a business that was at the mercy of the economic ups and downs of a small town like Blueberry Springs?
“We’d be in control of our own lives,” he added.
“We are in control of our own lives.” He was starting to sound like his father. The next thing he’d say was that they were taking their lives back from The Man.
“We wouldn’t have anyone dictating the way we run things, who we hire or fire. We could be autonomous.”
There it was. Hidden in his words: Kimi and Spencer as The Man.
“There’s security in being the owner.” Moe hooked his hand in Amy’s, giving it a squeeze. “We might even be able to afford in vitro for our second child if we owned the pub.”
She pulled her hand away. For some reason using kids as an excuse to take a path that would surely leave him overburdened and unhappy felt wrong.
“You could stay home with our kids,” he continued. “We’d have freedom.”
“What’s the deal? Specifically?”
“I can buy the pub for approximately half of its market value.”
“Half?” No wonder he was tempted.
“Cesar considered each year I worked at the pub as a form of sweat equity and is bequeathing me that half. I could own the pub for a bit less than two hundred thousand.”
That was still a sizable chunk of cash.
“Kimi must be upset you’ve been offered the prize pig.”
“She’s offered to front the money for the half I would need to purchase.”
“She’d be half owner?”
“Yeah.”
“Why not take the amount you were left and run?”
“I only get it if I buy the pub.”
“Then buy it, flip it.”
“Thought of that. Who’d I sell to? Kimi? Someone else? Then we’d be right back where we are now, but with new owners and even less control.”
He made a good point. As it stood they were able to set their own hours, within reason, decide on specials and discounts, plus more or less had a say in almost everything.
“So you buy it and wear yourself out trying to run it.”
“Kimi’s offered to help me manage it indefinitely if need be.”
“We’d work for Kimi?” There was no way. Amy had seen enough of her in the pub over the years to know she’d be right in there as top dog—even if she was only a half owner who lived out of town. She’d want to own it, run it, not listen to their thoughts and ideas on how to make it the best local hang out for their small community.
“With Kimi. But what if I found a way to buy it on my own—”
“Our own.”
“And then in a few months, after we’ve learned how to make it float, we go out on our own without her help? No shared ownership or management with anyone. I’d—we’d—be the owner.” There was a flash of worry in his expression, but it was gone before she could put a finger on whether it was about money, managing the business or something else.
“So you’re going to buy it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Moe?”
His focus was on the bowl of chips resting in his lap. Finally he looked up. “I’m not sure I can come up with the money.”
Because he’d bought a house and was paying for a wedding he hadn’t wanted. Add in the discounted honeymoon…
She was selfish.
No, he’d wanted those things, too. Maybe not the wedding, but the house. It made financial sense for them to own a place together.
But was he really considering owning and running Brew Babies? He was miserable with his current duties, which were a mere preview of the future. His future.
Was she acting selfishly by wanting something different for him?
And why hadn’t he spoken up about this sooner if it was what he wanted? If she’d known, she would have skipped the house, the wedding and the trip, for now, and simply had them later.
“I’m sure Wini would say yes to the bank loaning you the funds to buy the pub.” Although he’d just signed into a twenty-five-year mortgage, so there might not be any cash left in the lending pot, seeing as he’d used up his savings getting his dad into a place, too. “We can ask my parents.” Borrowing a bit for equity was different than being bailed out. Way different.
“Maybe it is time to try something new,” he said thoughtfully.
She sat up. Now he was talking.
“I’d be a manager,” Moe said. “No more bartending.”
Amy stared at him as though needing to confirm his identity. “But you like being a bartender.” How could he give up making drinks and mingling with the locals? It was his thing, and it had been his identity for a third of his life. He wasn’t as jovial with that office work tying him in knots, and he was dropping balls as the manager.
“Technically,” she said, “you have been trying something new. And you don’t like it. You’re stressed and keep escaping from your little office to come shoot the breeze with customers.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Is this about money?”
“I’d be a better manager if I wasn’t trying to take care of everything and tend the bar. I could run the place in the spirit in which it was established over the years if I had help.”
“Of course you could, but there’s more to life than money.” This was why she’d left nursing time and again. It made for a great, secure income, but the job had killed her.
“More?” he challenged. “Such as having kids and being parents who are present? Having a spouse at home when the kids are awake, having your husband there to help you put them to bed? Maybe fold some laundry and mow the lawn at a semidecent hour of the day?”
“That all counts for squat if you’re not happy. Happiness is more important.” Amy took a breath, speaking more calmly. “I appreciate how you’re trying to do this for our future family, but I can’t be selfish and let you sacrifice so much. There are two of us in this relationship. If we need money or a better work schedule I can go back to nursing. We don’t have to buy the pub.”
“You hated nursing.”
“It wasn’t the right fit for where I was at the time. But it was a much better fit for me than managing is for you. We don’t need a ton of money to be happy. Not when it comes with oodles of stress.”
They had never fought before, but this was starting to feel close.
“Wouldn’t it be better if that dad wasn’t some middle-of-the-night bartender and could take time off during the day instead of sleeping, make his own hours, and afford things like hockey and the kid’s first car? It’s important for a dad to be there for his son.”
“When did this stuff start mattering to you?” Amy retorted, then she winced. Of course it mattered. His own father had been working in the mines every day, and hadn’t been around after school or even for supper. It had often been Moe and Lily at the supper table alone—eating whatever they’d managed to create. His dad hadn’t been able to fly out for the wedding, and she wasn’t even sure when Moe had last seen him in person.
“I’m sorry. I know you want to be there for your kids. But what is this really about?” One of the things she liked most about Moe was that he didn’t get tied up in the “proper” stuff like money and job titles like her parents did. Despite all they said about wanting her to be happy, she knew they weren’t pleased that she’d settled on waitressing. Now Moe wanted more, too?
“It’s just good sense, Amy.”
“You can’t change because everyone else thinks it’s a good idea.” She placed her hand over his knee. His gaze zeroed in on her ring.
“I’m not changing, and I think it’s a good, smart, solid plan.”
“You can’t take a job you hate. It’ll slowly kill you.” She stood, hands on her hips, her mind made up. “You’r
e saying no to Kimi’s money. We make an okay income and yeah, the hours aren’t great, but the stress is minimal. You’ve been tense all month and—”
“Because I’ve been working two jobs and learning how to take over Cesar’s tasks.”
“This won’t change if you buy the pub. You can’t stay away from pouring drinks and chatting up our customers. Try it for one night. You’ll die.” She sat again, her earlier anger gone, replaced by a quiet assurance that she was right. She only had to convince him that the status quo was totally fine.
“Amy, this is what’ll be the best for our family.”
“I get a say in what’s best for our family, too, and you taking on a job you despise just for better hours and more money isn’t for the best.”
“So you want Kimi to own half, manage half and be your boss?”
“No. We have other options. This isn’t the only town or the only jobs in the world.”
“We just bought a house.”
“So?”
“Buying the pub is the best plan.”
“It can’t be the best, and you know how I know?”
He wouldn’t look at her, his anger and frustration mounting, turning his cheeks pink. She had a feeling she wasn’t as close to convincing him as she’d like to be.
“You and I, Moe?” she said gently. “We don’t need much because we already have more than most people.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?” he asked dutifully.
“Jobs we love and a friendship that can get us through anything. Including babies made the old-fashioned way and crappy working hours.”
She shifted so her legs were under her, and pressed a hand to his chest, feeling a bit emotional and tender about the fact that he’d make these changes to his life for her, for their family. “You don’t need to make a sacrifice for us to have kids. That isn’t how love works.”
His brows pinched together. “Who said anything about love? This is about reality.”
What was Moe supposed to do? He had to provide for the family they were planning. He had to be there for them and not working late hours in some stinky bar his kids wouldn’t even be able to walk into until they were adults. He’d grown up in a household where there hadn’t been a parental unit tag-teaming him and Lily. His father hadn’t had support from a wife, and he’d gone it alone in a job that kept him away from his kids. He’d done the best he could, but Moe wanted to do better.
So if that was true, then why wasn’t he asking Wini if the Blueberry Springs bank would give him a loan? Why wasn’t he prepping to sign his name on the purchase agreement should it be extended once his trial period was up, in less than two months?
The learning curve was proving steep, but he could do this job. He could manage the place. He had to.
If he didn’t, the whole pub would be sold out from under them, and he’d have to sort out a new career for both himself and his wife.
A wife who was still in the dark about what would happen to the pub if he didn’t purchase it.
“You all right?” Marissa was standing beside him at the bar, giving him a strange look, her eye shadow so dark tonight she almost looked Goth.
She pointed to the slosh of lager he’d just pulled into a glass he’d already set up with grenadine for a cocktail. He contemplated the mess he’d made before pouring it out, struggling to recall what he was supposed to be making.
Be the owner.
“I heard you and Amy are going to make some babies.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Looks like it’s got you a wee bit distracted.”
I appreciate how you’re trying to do this for our future family, but I can’t be selfish and let you sacrifice so much. There are two of us in this relationship.
Everything felt so complicated.
You don’t need to make a sacrifice for us to have kids. That isn’t how love works.
“Either that or time in the office has made me rusty,” he said, trying to keep his jaw clenched so he wouldn’t add something revealing.
“Ha. That’ll be the day.” Her voice lowered as though expressing great doubt as she added, “You? Rusty behind the bar?” She chuckled and took a tray of fries out to Luke and Emma, who had their heads bent together, no doubt plotting something that would make their all-natural cosmetics company another few million.
Moe just needed to make some babies, and then be there for them as they grew up. It should be simple.
But in five days everything was due to change. He’d seen Amy’s ovulation calendar—how could he not? She’d tacked it to the bare fridge, which they hoped would one day be covered in finger paintings and tiny handprints. Amy was on countdown mode and he still didn’t know how he was going to be the man she needed. He felt it deep in his bones to provide not only financial support, but emotional and physical support, too.
She couldn’t go back to nursing. She’d left the career enough times for him to know it made her unhappy.
Which all counts for squat if you’re not happy. Happiness is more important.
Amy sidled up on the other side of the bar, sliding her tray into a bowl of peanuts.
“Look at that jukebox. Broken again.” She sighed theatrically. “You don’t want to own this place. Nothing but headaches.”
Moe clenched his jaw and grabbed a green olive and, not caring if she was ready to catch it in her mouth or not, lobbed it at her. She opened her mouth too late, the olive bouncing off her nose.
“Your point was made last night,” he grumbled. “Sufficiently.” He was still pretty ticked about how she’d threatened to go back to her old career.
She was ready for the next olive, but again, missed it.
“Come on. My mouth is right here,” she taunted.
He gave a disgruntled grumble of frustration, wondering if she might be afraid of him owning something and being tied down. Maybe a business was too much for her free spirit, but owning a home was okay. It just seemed like there wasn’t a right choice. He could be an overworked, stressed-out owner, or give up on all of it and try to find another decent job—with nothing but his high school education and drink-pouring experience as backup.
“You need me to help?” Amy asked when he spilled soda over his hand while mixing a rum and Coke, missing the glass with the stream of soda. “Maybe I could stand behind you like a golf instructor and place my hands over the soda gun, directing it into the glass.”
Why did that sound dirty to him? Was it the way she’d lowered her voice? Or was he just that muddled?
He needed help. He needed to wash his ears out with soap, scrub his brain and stop thinking about his best friend like she was some kind of porn star about to fulfill his fantasies come ovulation day. He was worse than a hormonal teenager with his first crush.
She started to come around the bar, but he scowled at her as he poured two lagers. “I’ve got it.” In his haste to prove it, he spilled beer over his hands as he banged the glasses down on the counter in front of her so she could take them away.
“An awful lot of head on these beers. You’re losing your touch.”
“Maybe I’m just picking up your poor habits.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, wrinkling her freckled nose in the most adorable way before she spun on her heel, spilling not a drop as she carried the brews over to the table of intent poker players.
As she chatted with the customers, her tanned arms revealed by her tank top moving gracefully as she gestured and laughed, he wondered what sounds she would make if he kissed the skin at the base of her neck.
Why was he thinking about that? He had a pub problem to solve.
He jerked as he overfilled a glass of soda for Oz.
“Seriously. You okay?” Marissa asked, slipping by. She tapped the list of drinks she needed him to make, while giving him a concerned look.
“Just lost in thought.”
“About impregnating Amy? Yeah, I can see how that might be a tad distracting.”
Moe shot Marissa a look. He should cut his loss
es tonight and go work in the office. Except he knew Amy would chew him out for abandoning the bar on one of the busiest nights of the week. And then there was also that small part of him that wanted to be on watch in case the smokejumpers came back.
“Or is it something else?” Marissa leaned against the counter, her back to their customers. “I heard you’re thinking of buying this place even though that Kimi Phipps thinks she has a right to Brew Babies and its income just because her daddy owned it.”
“Would it be that bad if she bought Brew Babies? She’s currently helping manage things.”
“Would it be that bad?” Marissa reached out, placing a palm against his forehead as she frowned. “Strange. You don’t seem to be burning up. You know she told me to pay for the soda I was drinking on my shift?”
“She’ll learn that it’s not about every penny, but about happy customers and happy staff.”
“She won’t ever learn that.”
“Sure she will. I’m helping her just like she’s helping me.” She’d already somehow sorted out his mysterious inventory issue like it had never existed.
“She’s not one of us, and she doesn’t care about the little guy. She’s a princess who wants every penny possible going into her fat little purse. You can’t let her buy this place. If you do, I’ll quit.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” He nodded to his sister, who’d come in, spotted him and was marching over.
“You’re my boss, not Kimi,” Marissa said. “And before you start saying this place is her father’s legacy, it’s yours. You’re the one here late at night. You’re the one trying specials and working with Nicola to bring in events so this town has a night life. There was nothing like this in Blueberry Springs until a few years ago.”
“What if I can’t keep running it in the spirit in which it was established?”
“Are you seriously asking me that? You are the spirit of this place. It’s in your blood.”
He was touched by her words, and a feeling of inspiration buoyed him. “You really think so?”
“I know so. And why are you defending Kimi, anyway? She’s an entitled bossy pants.”
Lily slid onto a stool across from Moe and Marissa, stating matter-of-factly, “Because that little princess is the woman who got away, and he never got over her.”