Chapter 6

six

Lily

River continues to regale me with a detailed tour. Leading me into the entryway that blends seamlessly between the porch and inside wood flooring, both stained a deep espresso brown. Approaching the familiar hostess stand at the end of the steps, I keep our game going.

"Just the bar today, thanks." I give a slight wink and walk with Pete through the space and call back over my shoulder to him, "He's a service dog, I swear!"

"If you recall, these were once closed off rooms, but I worked with Tom the contractor to make it structurally sound but more open. If you look up, there are large structural beams that connect to all these shelves. Plus, the cutouts allow people to place down drinks during busy nights, and event planners to put out more decor. It's worked out nicely." He's so excited that his voice is speeding up as we walk.

"Library still here?" I raise an eyebrow at him, remembering the hours we spent eating French fries and working through homework together in there.

"But of course, I kept both of the private rooms: the old study and the library. They work well for dinner parties and small group meetings, which is great for business," River confirms.

Bellying up to the bar, I watch him get to work bringing down an array of items and leafing through the menus. I'm lost in thought, checking out all the newness mixed with the familiar when he asks me a question I dread.

"So, how are your folks? Are you staying with them this weekend?" He's casual, in bartender mode. He has a white dishrag in hand to clean glasses that he cooly flips over his shoulder, a move he must do hundreds of times each day.

My heart slows and I try to do one of those grounding exercises I teach to stave off the dizzy feeling taking over. Name something you can see, Lil. Okay, I see a glass of water that's magically appeared near me. What is something you feel? Reaching out, I feel the cool glass, and swallow thickly feeling how dry my throat has become. What do you hear? Pete is shaking his head, making the tags on his collar jingle. What do you taste? I sip the cold water, the liquid coating my tongue and throat. It doesn't really taste like much, but it's helping either way. I can't stop how warm I feel.

"I'm, uh. I'm not really in touch with them. I don't-I don't know. Belinda and Neal," I pause realizing that while I call my parents by their first names it might not be something he knows. "Uh, my folks kind of cut me off when everything went down. You remember how you told me to get out ahead of the whole sitting in the stocks thing then?" River nods and his gaze focuses on my fidgeting hands. "Actually, how about that drink?" I'm far too anxious to have to get through this conversation now.

"This is my papa's moonshine, it's really strong, so let me fix you a mixed drink," he attempts to warn me, but I take the Mason jar and gulp a hefty amount down. Despite the way it burns on contact, I don't mind.

"This is so uncomfortable," I admit a bit apprehensively, as I stare off towards Pete who is roaming the floor. "I tried, I swear I tried." My voice is barely above a whisper so I'm unsure if he hears me. I can't bring myself to look up, and watch my hands as I return the jar to the polished wood bar. "I think they still take Grant's side in the divorce, they had when we spoke last. About eight years ago I offered to come home for the holidays. Belinda said that I destroyed her family, and if I wouldn't be willing to make amends to everyone I wronged, then I wasn't her daughter. Neal," I pause. I don't even know what to say about him to anyone .

"Eventually, I realized that family wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Stef's my family, so I'm here. Bar keep," I tap twice at the wood beneath my shaking hands. "Refill please."

"You sure?" he asks and I nod confidently before throwing back the final sip. Next time I will wait for him to mix it into something more flavorful.

"Will you be the first to taste test something I've been putting together for the party?" he asks sheepishly. Accepting the pink cocktail, I swirl the jar and sniff.

"This is pink. Very pink," I state as if he isn't aware.

"The Blushing Bride is what I'm calling it, made with a bunch of ingredients from the local farms. It's a cherry-herb lemonade with a kick from the moonshine. What do you think?"

"This is amazing," I cry out full of excitement. "What did you include here? Tell me everything." It not only moves River off the subject of the Long family drama but allows me to push all of those awful feelings back where they belong. In the distant past. The problem of being in the same zip code as my biological donors is a problem Tomorrow's Lily can tackle.

"Its base is Papa's moonshine, if you had waited the first time around though it includes a cherry lemonade, basil-mint syrup, and a little soda water for bubbles. It felt like Stef—it's traditional meets off-beat, the lemon slices reminded me of how sunny her personality is, and the cherries are from Michigan," he explains softly.

"That's amazing, just like where Lee's from, and how they met at school in the Midwest. I love it, she will love it. This is amazing," I say before finishing the glass and requesting more. As I start to feel the buzz kicking my veins up, everything feels a little softer. This town is weird, sure, but most of the time it's the wonderful kind of off-beat that allows for ideas, art, food, and bringing people together. The regular town meetings and festivals bring out all kinds of characters, making for great people watching and daydreaming.

Frankly, even my punishment of sitting in the stocks sounds hilarious and horrible if I'm being honest. It's not the punishment itself that bothered me; I've seen people volunteer to wear historical costumes and be there for tourists plenty. Shifts are short, they don't lock it, and you get to sit on a bench watching a festival take place .

No, it was the fact that my reaction to Grant's infidelity was worse than what he did. It was the way that he went right back to Landan, and nobody seemed to fault her for this either. Everything came back to some outdated law on the books that James Kelly refused to ignore about wives being out of line. I wonder if they ever changed those old colonial township legacies… this must be all over my face because I hear River's husky advisory.

"Easy there, tiger, this stuff is deceptively strong. You should wait."

But waiting has never been my strength so instead I hop off the barstool and walk around the bar to refill for myself.