have apple orchards, a very popular bar and restaurant, and we’re the only hotel in the county. The economy of the entire town depends on our hotel, and my mother’s put it at risk.
Daisy’s husband is richer than Midas, true, but if we had to go begging for them to bail us out, my mother would go into a shame-spiral from which she would never emerge. She’s still in major denial about her anxiety issues. She’s a small-town woman raised on a diet of “pull yourself up by your bootstraps”. I managed to convince her to talk to a therapist after her house-buying binge, but she won’t even see one in town. She’s doing it via video conferencing.
And she made me swear on my daddy’s grave not to tell anyone, so there’s no-one I can ask for help.
“Never mind. Uh, Jenny’s back from the restroom, I should let you go.”
“What bar are you guys at?”
I hang up quickly, pretending I didn’t hear that last question. I’m half afraid if I tell her, she really will send Child Protective Services to make sure there are no babies at the bar.
I should never have come here. Mama just can’t handle this kind of stress on her own.
My alcohol buzz is wearing off and tension is twisting my insides. I pull my notebook from my purse and glance over my list of tasks for the day. Lists keep me sane.
The only thing I have left to do is call the Sisters Together program and confirm that I’m meeting up with my “little sister” Fiona Duffy later this week.
Fiona just moved to town for the summer. Her mother’s in jail, her father’s never been in the picture, and she’s staying with her frazzled aunt, Reba, who has eight kids of her own. I’m supposed to hang out with her this summer and be a good influence. Ha. If Rhonda, the program director, could see me now, half drunk in the middle of the day, in my floozy disguise, lying to my family, she’d boot me out of the program before I could say “boo”.
I walk outside, squinting in the bright light of day. Music from the bar blares out onto the street. I walk down the block until the sound fades, then I call Rhonda.
“Oh, Callie, I was just going to call you and let you know. Fiona has decided not to participate in the program. We can match you up with someone else.”
“Thanks for letting me know. We can talk about it when I get back to town,” I say, feeling kind of hurt. Fiona and I have already met, and I thought we hit it off. Couldn’t just one thing go right today?
Well, what’s my next move? I’d planned to do some sightseeing, since I’ve come all this way, but I’m no longer in the mood.
My phone pings, and I glance down. I’ve set it up to give me news alerts if there’s any mention of Heat Lighting.
Terra’s posted a selfie of herself standing next to Sebastian. She’s got a huge, gloating smile plastered across her face and her arm is circled around his waist. I guess they made up after the tray-spilling incident.
I stalk back into the bar. A man’s about to slide into the seat I just vacated. I glare at him, and he scurries off.
I don’t know what’s come over me, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I wave at the bartender.
“Another Long Island Iced Tea, please, and keep them coming.”
Then I turn to the cowboy hat-man, who’s slumped even further over the bar.
“Sebastian,” I tell him, my voice ringing out in the air. I don’t care who hears me. “That’s why I’m drinking.”
Chapter Five
Callie
Who’s inside my head, tunneling their way out? Why am I on a violently rocking boat?
I sit up, groaning in pain. My eyes are sticky. Everything hurts.
“Tell the boat to stop,” I mumble. “Don’t rock the boat.”
“Coffee?” a voice booms through the air.
“Please don’t scream at me.” I squint blearily at a cup of coffee that’s materialized in front of my face.
A man’s voice pounds against my eardrums. “I didn’t. I’m whispering.”
My hair is hanging over my face in a wavy brown curtain. Fingers part the curtain for me, and I am able to take the cup of coffee and gulp down a mouthful. Milk and sugar, in the exact right proportions. I take another sip, close my eyes for a few seconds, and open them again.
The fog in my head starts to clear.