but I get the feeling she’s not. “Really, I work as much as I can and am happy to do it. Hannah’s working too. Owning her own shop is a twenty-four, seven gig, so we’ll see each other tonight after we get off work. On the rare occasion I really do need a day, Hank has customers come to the counter to order and calls them back up when their food’s ready. Folks understand.”
I can’t help but smile. Here, in Great Falls, they do understand and are probably happy to help a fellow resident have a day off. But in the city? No way, no how. There’d be some Karen threatening a one-star Yelp review because the service was ‘offensive’. But the sense of community here is something I hadn’t expected, and it feels . . . right. I’ve been accused of being a doormat, letting people walk all over me when all I really wanted to do was lend a hand, but here, everyone’s like that.
“Well, just so you’re ready for it, Hank’s given me tomorrow off. I’m going to do as much prep work as I can so that all he has to do is sit on his butt and pour beer, but can you keep an eye on him? Make sure he eats and doesn’t overdo it?” I don’t add that he looked awful this morning and was well on his way to a nap just from our visit, so I’m seriously doubting his ability to work a full shift.
Olivia’s eyes narrow and she taps the bar. “Absolutely. I got the old guy covered. If he gets too cranky, I’ll send him to his office to do paperwork and handle the bar myself. I can’t make cocktails, but alcohol’s alcohol and folks can take what they can get or go somewhere else.” She snaps her fingers and grins. “Oh, right, there’s nowhere else to go, so they can drink beer and damn well like it.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, meaning it deeply. I think she will look out for Unc. Actually, from how quickly she suggested sending him to his office, I think she’s been looking out for him for a while.
By mid-afternoon, I get a lull and really get to work prepping. I’ve got every lemon and lime in the fridge cut, knowing I’ll use some tonight but will still have enough for Unc tomorrow. I’ve overstocked every napkin holder, washed a whole stack of bar towels, and cleaned everything to within an inch of its life so that Unc won’t even feel the need to wipe a rag around.
I move on to rearranging the most used liquors to the side of the bar closest to the beer taps. It’s a huge overstep on my part. Rearranging someone’s bar is akin to pulling their socks and underwear from their dresser drawers and organizing them a different way, but I think this will be a good change for Unc in the long run.
The phone rings and I answer, “Hank’s, Willow speaking. How can I help you?”
“Oh good, I was hoping it’d be you who answered,” a female voice says so fast I barely catch it.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s Shayanne. We’re wrapping up at the famer’s market and we already ate our lunch and snacks. I wanted to see if Ilene would package us up some food to go? Well, that and I wanted to talk to you too.” Every word is fast, nearly on top of the last, and I have to pay attention to catch each one.
“Uh, sure. What do you want to eat and I’ll go ahead and get that started?” I say, focusing on the easy part.
“Have her do a big box of fries, fried pickles, and fried mushrooms,” Shayanne answers, damn near asking for a heart attack in a box. But they all work hard, so maybe they can handle eating like that?
I scribble the order on a piece of paper, making a note that it’s to-go for Shayanne, and slip it to Ilene, who sticks it to her order rack before turning back to the grill.
“I was hoping to get by the market this morning too,” I tell Shay. “I thought it would be a great photo op, but I didn’t have time before opening. Maybe next time?”
“That’d be great! I can show you all the cute little booths and you can take pictures for your blog!” She sounds super excited about the idea, but then she screeches like a record scratch. “Oh, not that