I mean you need to advertise for us. I totally didn’t mean it like that, promise. I meant that it’d be fun and cute, not to take advantage, and . . . I’m going to shut up now.”
I laugh, especially when she immediately starts talking again.
“I wanted to see if you’d come out to the farm sometime. I know you’re off Monday—Bobby’s been talking about that already. Believe me, we know. But being the lady of the Tannen house, well . . . kinda, considering I don’t live there anymore, but the point being, I wanted to invite you out. What do you think?” She stops on a dime, the one run-on sentence ending abruptly.
“Oh, well . . . thank you. I’d love to, but I think it’d be better if I wait for Bobby to invite me? I wouldn’t want to intrude before he’s ready.” Or before I’m ready, I think.
“He won’t mind a bit. It could be our little secret. You’d be like a surprise gift, and I’d be the best sister ever. Well, technically, I’m his only sister, but the point stands that I’m the best. Obviously.” She sounds utterly convinced, and nothing or no one could sway her otherwise. “You could take pictures of my goats. They’re the cutest critters ever, except for Baarbara. She’s gotten a bit persnickety in her old age. But I have a few babies. C’mon, nobody can turn down fluffy, cuddly, adorable baby goats that curl up in your lap for ear scratches.”
She’s wearing me down. I suspect she does that to a lot of people. Her exuberance is . . . engaging, for sure.
“Well, I’m actually unexpectedly off tomorrow. I have plans early in the day, but maybe in the afternoon? We could catch some good lighting then.”
“Yes!” I can almost hear her fist punch of victory at my agreement. “Okay, but here’s the deal, girl. Bobby’s coming in for dinner tonight and you’d best not say a word. Got it? Don’t ruin the surprise. Holy shit, I can’t wait to see his face when you pull up. I’ll send you the address.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, feeling like I might’ve been danced into something I didn’t intend. “Do you need my number?”
She laughs heartily at that. “Nah, I already swiped it out of Bobby’s phone. Dumb fuck’s password is Betty. As if we don’t all know that.” I can definitely hear the eye roll. “I’ll be by to grab the food, but this conversation . . . it never happened, capiche?”
“Yeah, got it,” I say, feeling like I don’t get it at all. But the idea of seeing where Bobby lives and works, the land he talks and sings about with such affection, is a damn good dangling carrot. It’s more like a dangling cupcake, drawing me near. Hopefully, he’ll be happy to see me there. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.
Fewer than fifteen minutes later, Shayanne and Brody come in. Shay wanders up to the bar, beaming like the Cheshire Cat. “Hey, Willow, good to talk to you again. I mean, see you again.” She winks, likely thinking she’s being subtle, but she’s not. Not at all.
Brody looks from her to me and back, then grunts. He’s on to her, I’m sure of it. But he doesn’t say a word. Literally.
“Yeah, good to see you too, Shayanne,” I mimic, knowing I’m a bad liar too.
I make them huge sweet iced teas in Styrofoam cups to go with their fried box of heart attack snacks and send them on their way. As they head toward the door, Shay waves her fingers at me, also not discreet at all. Brody’s dark eyebrow raises, then he looks to the ceiling as though praying for the patience to get through another day with Shayanne.
The Saturday night rush is decent, not too bad but not killer either. The jukebox plays song after song nonstop and most folks order beers, making my job easy. Ilene and Daniel crank out food, and Olivia doesn’t even need my help to serve her tables. We’re a well-oiled machine until nine o’clock, when Bobby comes in.
Every cell in my body knows the second he walks in, like they’re in tune to his presence.
Bobby! they shout.
My heart stops in my chest. My hands freeze too, which means this draft is a bit overfull, but the guy at the bar doesn’t seem to mind when I set it down, spilling a bit over the edge of the mug. He even offers