Chapter Three

Good girls go to church, not bars…

Gran’s words nagged at me while I parked at the Honey Buckle. I’d had to remind her that Katie owned the bar and had plenty of bouncers. Katie had three half-brothers from her mother’s subsequent marriages and they were all football players who didn’t let anyone mess with their sis or her business. People called them Huey, Dewy and Lewy, but they were Harry, Dave and Lucas.

I’d remembered to put on some dangly silver earrings and a charm bracelet a boyfriend from college had given me. The extra feminine touches kept Gran from fussing about one more thing.

Walking into the bar, I waved at the familiar faces. A few returned the greeting, but some looked me up and down and glanced away. Cattiness didn’t end in high school.

The Honey Buckle was huge. Tons of tables filled the space to the walls, except for a large stage for live bands, and the jukebox in the corner. The bar section was toward the back with a hall beyond that most people never noticed, where they had a small kitchen and restrooms. The round bar had the usual stools all done in cherry wood. Above the bar and around on the walls were guitars and posters for rock and country music performers. The place served young and old, as long as they had ID, and it was the best spot to have fun in Sweet Grove.

I headed for the bar and found Katie serving up beer and enjoying herself. She had her hair up in a ponytail with a black cowboy hat cocked on her head, matching the black T-shirt she wore that displayed the bar logo.

Hopping onto a free bar stool, I checked out the specials.

“Hey, you actually came out. Good!” Katie said with a bit more surprise than I’d expected.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” I asked.

“You had a long first day. I’d have given you a pass tonight to catch up on sleep,” Katie said.

“Longer than you know. The pastor came in and Gran suggested I play piano for the choir or whatever.” I sighed.

“You love the piano,” Katie said.

I checked out all the stuff she had behind the bar. “I do, and I’m happy to help, but I need to focus on the business. I came up with a short list of new additions I can offer with minimal supplies.”

“Cool. You better charge for them,” Katie said.

“I will, and regular or decaf coffee will be one dollar with any purchase or three dollars without purchase, no more freebies,” I said.

“Good. The travel cups are a good size, so it’s fair. Free refills?”

“On regular coffee? Naturally, I’m not a monster. I can’t let people take advantage of Gran, but if they stick around and buy more stuff, free coffee is fine. A fancy coffee machine is expensive, but I can do some smoothies to start,” I replied.

“We have an extra blender, if you want to borrow it. Most people don’t want foo-foo drinks. But you’ll have to lend it to me for Cinco de Mayo. Margaritas are a big seller then,” Katie offered.

“You’re the best! I’m going to have to run into Nashville to get some cups, straws, coffee flavors and teas. At the least, I’ll splurge on an extra coffee maker for now, a smaller one for the decaf. There aren’t a huge number of decaf drinkers, but Gran has those big industrial coffee makers. Love them, but that’s a lot of decaf,” I said.

“You’re always thinking, Belle. If there’s anything I can help with, let me know. But some cold brew pitchers and stuff can’t be too bad. My distributors don’t sell coffee and such, but napkins and stirrers I can front you,” she offered.

I hugged her over the bar. “Thanks, but I don’t want you supplying me. I can do this. I saved up some money working in Atlanta. It’s not super cheap to live there, but I’ve never been a party girl or fancy.”

“Starbucks connections?” Katie suggested.

“I’m not copying their menu, but if I get on their radar trying to use their discount or anything, I could get my old manager in trouble…or end up with them watching me to be sure I’m not ripping them off.” I wasn’t looking for trouble.

Katie shook her head. “You’d never do that. Honestly, who isn’t doing fancy coffee these days? Fast-food places have crazy coffees. But you’re too Goody Two-Shoes. Fine, but at least take some stirrers and napkins. I get a bulk discount, but most people here order beer, so the stirrers only get used with fancy girly drinks.”

A cute male bartender leaned over. “Miss, what can I get you?”

“Sorry, Adam, this is my best friend in the whole world—Belle Baxter. Her grandmother owns Baxter Preserves. She drinks for free,” Katie said.

“No,” I countered.

“She’s the boss. What can I get for you, Miss Belle?” Adam asked.

“Water with lime, please.” I grinned.

“Please don’t be a brat,” Katie said. “Cherry Coke. Rum when she’s being adventurous.”

I was predictable. “No rum tonight, thanks.”

Adam fixed my drink and I tucked a five-dollar bill in the tip jar.

“Brat,” Katie said.

Adam moved on to tend to other patrons.

“He’s cute,” I said.

“So is his girlfriend. High school sweethearts.” Katie mocked sticking a finger down her throat to mark the grossly perfect couple. “Oh, the band is setting up. Check them out!”

Katie wiped her hands, grabbed her tablet from the back shelf and turned off the music playing throughout the bar. The jukebox in the corner was apparently just for show.

Katie ran over to the alcove of a stage on the far side of the dance floor.

“Good evening and welcome to the Honey Buckle! Live music three nights a week. The best country and blues digital jukebox every night. Line dancing for newbies is on Mondays, so if you want to learn, we can teach you. Tonight, it’s a newer band for us, but you keep wanting them around. Snakebite!” Katie announced.

I applauded and there were hoots and hollers, even a few whistles. It was an all-guy band and the lead singer was worth looking at, with his longer hair and muscled arms. He played guitar. The band also had a bass player, along with a guy on keyboard and one on the drums. They were all good-looking men, but it was the guy on the twelve-string who caught my eye.

He stood a bit apart from the rest of the band. He didn’t look at the crowd but at his guitar. Tall, dark and handsome was such a cliché, but he was over six feet tall with brown eyes and short dark-brown hair. He was nicely muscled and his face was chiseled and serious. Jeans, cowboy boots and gray T-shirt—I couldn’t fault him in the wardrobe department either. Simple, but he didn’t look like he’d just rolled out of bed. He’d look great straight out of bed too, but he wasn’t too rumpled with rips in his jeans or shirt. Picky girls like me wanted a certain amount of ‘a good guy’ with a dash of ‘can be a bad boy when needed’.

They were well into their first song when Katie came by to sit next to me.

“Like?” she asked.

“They’re good. They can play,” I teased.

That was a proper compliment. Everyone in or anywhere around Nashville thought they were the next big thing in country music. Everyone played or sang or something.

“The band came down from Kentucky, but they’re good. They’re nice to open it up to bring in a guest,” she said.

“Who is the guest?” I asked.

“Gus, on the twelve-string. He’s new in town. A new deputy, but he hasn’t officially started yet. Handsome and single. All the girls are drooling,” Katie said.

“Can’t blame them,” I said.

“You should go for it.” Katie nudged me with her elbow.

I snickered. “Please, you should go after him. You’ve got a great business and you’re the prettiest girl in town.”

Katie glared at me. “We both took a lot of crap as kids, but no one ever called us ugly.”

“Exactly, and now you’re successful and love music.” I sipped my drink.

“You can actually play music,” she teased.

I shook my head. “I’ve got my hands full now. Men, I don’t need that to juggle too.”

“Soon enough you’ll have a handle on things and you’ll wish you’d have pounced when he was new in town. He won’t be single for long,” she pointed out.

“You’re saying that I should grab him and reel him in before he knows about my family and reputation?” I asked softly.

“Ugh, I’d never. Your mom screwed up, not you. Your dad is a dead-beat sperm donor but you’re a good person,” she said.

“We both know that’s not how small towns work. I tried leaving, but I won’t be my mom. I won’t abandon Gran. Speaking of, I should go home. She won’t really sleep until I’m home,” I said.

Katie rolled her eyes. “We’re not in high school anymore. You’re grown and can go to a bar with your friends.”

“I know. But I have a couple errands to do and an early morning. No fuss, testing out some things for now. We’ll do your grand reopening once I’ve got some things sorted.” I hugged her and downed the rest of my Coke.

 

* * * *

 

The next morning, I was at the shop early with all my supplies. I blended up a batch of smoothies and put them in little sample cups. Writing up a sign for the smoothie options and pricing, I heard the door.

“Belle, what is the rush?” Gran asked.

The smell of fresh baking was wonderful. “We’re going to change things up a bit. It’ll take two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“Smoothies?” she asked.

“You said people were asking. I’ve got some teas too, but we’ll start with these. And one other thing.” I went over to the coffee and started the pots, but I took down the free coffee sign.

“Annabelle,” Gran said.

I put up a new sign that said Coffee With Free Refills, One Dollar With Purchase Or Three Dollars, then grabbed the cups and moved them behind the counter.

“It’s not unreasonable,” I replied.

She put out her signature biscuits and some cinnamon raisin bread.

“People won’t be happy,” she said.

“Gran, you have a loan to repay and the house will need a new roof in a few years. If you want to bake for charity or for church gatherings for free, that’s fine. This is a business. If anyone flies off the handle, you send them to me.”

“The boys aren’t wrong about social security. Pension and investment stuff is different, but earning money is capped,” she said uneasily.

I turned and grabbed both of her wrinkled little hands. “You said you wanted me in on this business too, right?”

“Of course. It’s our business. Baxter is on the sign,” she said.

“Then we can change how the business is owned if you get anywhere near that earnings cap. If we co-own it, then you only claim half the profits,” I explained. “Problem solved.”

“But if you make it very successful…” She trailed off.

“When we’re in high cotton, you retire, keep hanging out with your boys here as much as you want and help out if you like, but I take it over legally and you’ll still get your social security. Then we’ll definitely have enough to cover the roof, the loan, and ongoing expenses.” I hoped it’d be that simple.

“You don’t have to do this. My loan and my house, they’re my expenses,” she said.

I went to the door and flipped the sign. “That’s not how family works. You’re not asking me to pay rent. Our house, our business and our expenses. Now crack open those preserves.”

The door opened and Mr. Jones walked in with his two pre-teen daughters.

“Dad, come on,” Addie whined.

“I need biscuits. The wife is out of town,” Mr. Jones said to Gran.

“Cinnamon raisin bread today, too, girls,” Gran announced.

The girl had their eyes on their phones with earbuds in.

“Charging for coffee now?” Mr. Jones dropped a bill on the counter. “Smart. Keep the change.”

I handed him a cup and travel top. “Mr. Jones, haven’t seen you in a coon’s age. We can do a hazelnut or caramel flavor shot too,” I offered.

“I’m good with black. That’s a good call, Belle. Girls, look up. Smoothies.” He tapped his daughters on the shoulder.

“No way,” Allie said.

The two girls, a year apart in age, acted like twins and were clearly among the cool girls.

They tried the samples. “Nice. We need four.”

“Four coming up.” I fired up the blender.

Gran’s jaw dropped once the customers were gone.

“That’s a lot of money for some blended berries and milk. And they took four,” she said.

I smiled. “The more customized and personalized we can get, the more we can charge. They probably wanted to get some for friends—being in on a new thing is very teenager.”

The boys strolled in and Gran made a fuss about the changes and how they’d better pay up and spread the word. The four guys tried the smoothies and Milan and Joe were brave enough try the flavored coffee shots.

“Fancy,” Freddie said.

“It’s a start,” I countered.

My huge smile was hurting my cheeks, but the bell over the door jingled and my smile was suddenly as fake as a pageant contestant.

Lurlene had walked in. The evil popular girl who’d latched on to tormenting me as a kid and never let up. She still looked perfect.

“Belle Baxter. I heard you were back.” She leaned over the counter to air-kiss my cheeks.

I hated the fake girls!

“I am. So kind of you to track me down to mend fences. Coffee? Smoothie?” I offered.

“Interesting. I knew you’d be back to serve us all one day.” She sampled a smoothie.

“I’m shocked you’re still here. I thought you’d be long gone and married to some rich, important guy by now,” I said.

It was pretty much her plan and HS year book quote. She was going to marry well and move to Nashville at the least, take care of her parents and have gorgeous kids.

“I’m picky. You can’t rush true love to the right man,” she said.

“That’s true,” Gran agreed.

“Like your mom and her tragic story. Did you ever find her, by the way?” Lurlene took a second sample.

I counted to ten. “I went to college. I wasn’t looking for anyone. Gran is all the family I need.”

“And you kept that dirty blonde hair. Brave.” She reached for another sample.

“Vanity is a sixth sense. Can I get you something?” I offered.

My hair was on the dirty blonde side and Lurlene loved to say it. Her blonde was perfect and straight out of a bottle. She viewed me as some weird competition, according to Katie. We both had long wavy hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and petite figures. Lurlene was a few inches taller.

“I suppose I’ll take a smoothie. Skim milk unless you have almond milk,” she said.

“Not yet. We’re still expanding the menu, but thanks for the suggestion.” I blended her up a berry smoothie and rang her up.

“Biscuits, dear?” Gran offered.

“Oh no, no carbs. Thank you,” Lurlene said.

“Bye, dear,” Gran said.

I’d be annoyed, but Lurlene had never been rude to my grandmother that I’d ever seen. Then again, I’d never done anything to Lurlene that I was aware of and she’d decided that I was the enemy.

“What’s she doing now, Gran?” I asked after Lurlene was out of the door.

“Oh, she works at her dad’s store. It’s mostly tractor supply and feed. I buy Duke’s puppy food there. They support local business too. I can’t complain, but she’s always been jealous of you.” Gran shrugged it off.

Jealous wasn’t the word I’d use. Her family was intact and flawless, from what I knew. But I didn’t know everything about my own family, so who was I to make assumptions?

Milan smirked. “Lurlene wants to marry the pastor. She talked about college when you first went, but there was always a young man she didn’t want to lose out on. Or her dad needed her help.”

“Helping her dad is good.” If I couldn’t say anything nice, I’d keep quiet, but that was polite enough.

“She wants to be taken care of,” Joe agreed. “Poor girl grew up with an old-school father. His way or it’s wrong. Mother keeps a perfect house but doesn’t work except when the family business needs her. She never said a peep. Lurlene and her sister didn’t know how to make a decision on their own. Your gran was a free thinker compared to some.”

“Everyone has their faults and challenges. Belle, don’t you forget about the pastor and choir. You need to play piano,” Gran reminded me.

“This afternoon. I’ll put a reminder in my phone.” I pulled out my cell and programmed a reminder.

While things were quiet, I shopped online for a small fridge and a slightly used coffee machine.

Before I could pick a model, the door opened and a group came in. Word was getting around. People in small towns where nothing changed loved new options. I mentally made a note to get a couple of big blenders, because Katie’s little one might be dead by lunch.

 

* * * *

 

I walked into the church and wandered around a bit. I checked the choir room and the pastor’s office. Finally, I found the pastor in the main church, where the piano was.

“Hope I’m not late,” I said.

“No, not at all, Ms. Baxter. Please get comfortable with your instrument.” Pastor Nelson vacated the chair. “There’s some music set out for you.”

I took the bench and flipped through the sheet music. Nothing too tricky. Standard really.

“Thank you, Pastor, but call me Belle. I am a bit rusty. I didn’t have my keyboard in Atlanta. I should’ve taken it, but between working and classes, there wasn’t much time to practice anyway,” I admitted.

“It’s okay, and you can call me Luke. We’ve been muddling through without anyone since Mrs. Armstrong retired to Arizona.” He sat in the first pew. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Luke? That was way too familiar for a pastor I’d just met. Respecting the elderly was critical, but religious men got a lot of it too. It was just habit. I’d figure out the name thing later. He was good-looking and focused on his work without being stuffy or condescending.

I wiggled my fingers and tuned out the rest of the world. I focused on the music and forgot anyone was listening. Piano was normal for me. I’d had lessons since I was four until fourteen because Gran had seen that I loved music. She’d steered me hard away from guitars or drums and toward the piano. I often wondered if my mom ran off with a musician or my father had been one. Maybe the rumor of my mom being musical was true?

It didn’t really matter. On the piano, I could play any sort of music, and a small keyboard was just as portable as a guitar.

Two songs in, I heard applause. My fingers froze.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You don’t need to do any more. You are more than talented enough to accompany our choir. Practice starts soon. I hope you can stay.” The pastor walked up the steps.

“How often is practice?” I asked.

“Once a week for two hours. But it’s afternoons so shouldn’t cut into the busy time at your gran’s shop. Of course, Sunday mornings at ten is our service, which is the big show, but Beatrice usually closes for service.” He held out his hand. “We’re blessed to have your talent.”

“Thanks again, Pastor. Glad to help. I’ll just let Gran know not to expect me back soon.” I shook his hand and felt the extra squeeze he gave.

“Luke, please. None of these church ladies will stop with the formality,” he said.

Was the pastor flirting with me? I grabbed my phone and felt weird about using it here. “I’ll go into the entryway to make the call.”

I glanced back and he waved. He was grinning pretty wide.

Pastor Luke was good-looking and my age, but it felt a bit odd. If I somehow upended Lurlene’s plans for the pastor, I’d be the most enthusiastic piano player Sweet Grove Community Church had ever seen.