“Please!” she says, and they enter the bar together.
Everett aims the remote at the television, which is still tuned to Nickelodeon. “Do you want to watch the game? The Giants are playing.”
“I’m not a football fan. But thank you.”
He clicks off the television and turns on Pandora, tuning into the Wild Holler’s station. The sound of her father’s voice brings a smile to Stella’s face.
Everett pours a healthy serving of red wine and hands the glass to her.
“I shouldn’t let Naomi get under my skin. She infuriates me. I seriously want to strangle her.” Stella holds her hands out, fingers forming a circle as though wrapped around Naomi’s neck.
He busies himself with tidying up the mess he made in fixing Jazz’s drink. In his experience as a bartender, Everett has discovered that people are more willing to open up if they think he’s preoccupied with other tasks. Sure enough, a faraway expression settles on Stella’s face, and she talks out loud, more to herself than to him.
“I’m to blame for giving Naomi additional responsibilities when I know she won’t deliver.” Stella sips her wine. “If not for Jazz, I’d fire her in a heartbeat.”
Everett wipes an imaginary spot off the marble. “Jazz seems afraid of her mother.”
“There’s no doubt about it,” Stella says. “You saw the way Naomi jerks the poor kid around. Truth be told, I’m a little afraid of Naomi myself.”
“Me too,” Everett says with a chuckle. “I feel sorry for Jazz the way Naomi keeps her here so late at night.”
Stella frowns. “What’re you talking about? Naomi works nine to five.”
Oops. Everett didn’t mean to get Naomi in trouble. Or did he? “Several times in the past few weeks, when I’m leaving to go home around nine or ten o’clock at night, Naomi’s been at the reservation desk and Jazz asleep in the office.”
“Naomi has some serious emotional problems. And she’s a recovering alcoholic.” Stella blushes, as though she’d like to eat her words. “That isn’t public knowledge, Everett. I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Bartenders are required to take oaths to keep their customers’ secrets. Or in your case, their boss lady’s secrets.” He drags his fingers across his lips. “What’s said in Billy’s Bar stays in Billy’s Bar. Is Naomi still drinking?”
“She’d better not be. She’s supposed to be attending weekly AA meetings. It’s one of my conditions for employment.” Stella plants her elbows on the bar and stares down at her wine. “Jazz’s life has not been easy. She was a sad little kid when she came to stay with me last summer. Telling no one where she was going, Naomi flew off to rehab in Arizona and left Jazz in my care for six weeks. I’d only been in Hope Springs a month, and I had no clue about Jazz being my half sister. During Naomi’s absence, Jazz contracted bacterial meningitis and was hospitalized for a week. Poor kid had a tough go of it. We both did. But we grew close because of it. I’m more like Jazz’s parent than her sister, and that confuses her sometimes.”
Everett has stopped the busywork and is now listening intently. “That explains the exchange I just witnessed.”
“Jazz runs to me every time she disagrees with her mother. Because she’s Jazz’s mother, I have to support Naomi’s decisions as much as it kills me. But I pick my battles. I don’t always let Naomi have her way.”
He pours a little more wine in Stella’s glass. “Were Naomi and Billy married?”
“Nope. My father’s relationship with Naomi was complicated.”
He stuffs the cork back in the bottle. “How so?”
She pauses, as though considering how to answer. “Naomi cared more for Billy than he cared for her. She got pregnant to trap him into marriage, and when he refused, she married the first guy who came along.”
Sweat trickles down his back at the familiarity of the situation. “Is she still married to him?”
“No. She’s separated from Derrick. Good thing, too. I don’t think Derrick was much of a stepfather. But Billy adored Jazz. He provided well for her in his will. Part of the reason Billy gave me the farm is so I’ll be close to Jazz in the event Naomi goes off the deep end. That kid means everything to me. I’ll protect her at all costs, even if it means petitioning the court for custody.”
“I don’t understand how things like that work. Is it a possibility?”
“It would be a last resort. Jazz deserves happiness. Her father is dead, her mother is unstable, and her stepfather wants nothing to do with her. I may be the only one who can give her that happiness. If I petition for custody, I want the situation to be permanent for Jazz’s sake.”
“How does Jack feel about all this?”
Stella takes a gulp of wine. “Jack adores Jazz. He would have no reservations about raising her as his own child.”
Everett leans across the bar. “When are the two of you getting married?”
“That’s the million-dollar question. Jack promised not to pressure me, but his patience is waning.” Stella drains the rest of her wine. “The last thing I need is to complicate our lives with planning a fancy wedding.”
He holds up the bottle. “More?”
Stella waves off the offer. “I’ve had enough. I can sleep now.” She pushes her stool back. “You’re an excellent listener, Everett. I rarely open up about my problems so easily. What’s said in Billy’s Bar—”
“Stays in Billy’s Bar,” he finishes. “You have my word.”
As he watches Stella disappear into the lounge, his hand that’s holding the bottle of wine shakes. He could so easily pour himself a glass. He quickly stores the bottle out of sight. Will the temptation ever fully go away?
10
Presley
A wave of profound sadness washes over Presley as she backs out of her mother’s driveway. She’s closing a chapter on the life she’s known for thirty years. This house, her home, holds good and bad memories
