Broken Hero

I roll my eyes. We both know crunching the numbers is my thing. “I’ll do it. But you haven’t spoken to her yet, have you?”

“I popped into the bakery yesterday afternoon, but don’t worry, I didn’t ask her about it, of course. I only just thought of it this morning!”

“Hence, the muffins.”

She puts her hand on her hips and shoots me a look so like Mom’s that I have to smile. “Don’t be a wiseass.”

“Fine.”

“She seems like a genuinely sweet girl. We’ve had business with her aunt and uncle for ages and they’re nothing if not hard-working. I’m sure she’ll be the same.”

I take a sip of my beer. “What do we do with the space when she leaves?”

“Why do you think she’ll leave?”

“Sarah, how often have the Rhodes talked about their nieces and nephews?”

She pouts. “A few times.”

“Every time you buy something in their bakery. Lucy is the one with the dreams, the big city girl. I don’t know why she’s here, but she’s not here to stay. And when she leaves, we’ll be left with an area of the ranch we’ve sunk money and time into but have no way of monetizing.”

“We could employ someone else.”

“Who? This town is tiny.”

She throws her hands up. “We’ll find someone! Bring someone in from out of town. If the facilities are here, then they’re here-and we can take it from there.”

I don’t point out that her premise is flawed. If a business operated like that, it wouldn’t be operating for particularly long. But Sarah has always been more about the big picture stuff, the ideas. A walking Pinterest board, as she likes to refer to herself.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

She once called me an Excel sheet.

I took it as a compliment.

“Ollie, please just promise me that you’ll think about it?”

“I promise.”

I say it to humor her-I don’t need to think about it for another second to know that it would be a terrible idea for Lucy Rhodes to spend time up here. It would mean I’d have to interact with her again, deal with the mega-watt smile and the teasing. It would distract the men up here. Hell, it would distract me.

Sarah resolutely packs the muffins away after I’ve had my fifth and declares she’ll share them with the farmhands. I tell her there’s no need-they couldn’t possibly love her more than they already do. Sarah laughs as if it was a joke.

I drive down to town that evening and head to the Red Flag to meet an old friend from out of town. It’s the only place in town open past dinner time where they’ll serve you a beer. It’s also one of the few places I’m not approached by random townspeople, all who have a story to share about my father or my sister or how they once read about me in the newspaper when I was still in active service.

There are a few awkward nods and waves when I enter, but by now, the regulars know me well enough to leave me alone. I’m never unfriendly, per se, I’m just not friendly. Nothing personal, but small talk just isn’t in my nature anymore. Maybe it never was.

Logan is already there when I arrive, a half-emptied pint in front of him. “It’s good to see you, man.”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “You too, brother.”

“How’s the Ranch?”

“We’re almost fully booked this week.”

“That’s great. Where are they from this time?”

“You won’t believe this. They’re here for a bird.”

Logan frowns. “Bird as in a hot chick?”

“No, I mean a fucking sparrow. They’re all bird-watchers.”

He breaks out into a wide grin. “You’re shitting me.”

“Not at all. I even overheard Mandy pull some lame bird joke at check-in and they all doubled over with laughter. Easiest guests I’ve ever had.”

His eyes narrow at the mention of my receptionist. “She’s wonderful with stuff like that.”

I sigh. “When are you going to grow a pair and just talk to her?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me. Not anymore.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I left her high and dry when I enlisted. I get it.” He rolls his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “It was great of you to give her a job up there, by the way.”

“Of course. With a recommendation from you, how could I not?”

I watch Logan drain his beer and eye the circles under his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a long day, that’s all.”

“What’s up?”

“My uncle practically ran the shop until it was on its knees, and then left it to me. There’s so much debt, man.”

“Have you thought about closing it?”

“Every day. There’s nothing left for me in over in Grantville anyway. Maybe I should just go back to working as an electrician.”

“I need one at the farm at least twice weekly, so you’d have all my business right from the get-go.”

“Thanks, man.”

We order another round of beers and shoot the shit for a while. Logan and I served together, and we share a familiarity I have with few others. The honest to God’s truth was that without him and the rest of my brothers, I might not have survived. Not the tours I served, and definitely not the difficult readjustment back stateside.

Logan nods at my shoulder. “Still good?”

“It’s fine. How’s the leg?”