Hannah blinked as she deciphered Mandy’s ramblings. “He’s bought the place?” Hannah hoped against hope that she’d gotten it wrong.
“Yeah. Didn’t you see the notice?” Mandy pointed to a handwritten note stuck near the till. “Sale was finalized yesterday, but apparently they’ve been negotiating for over a month.”
Hannah swallowed the four-letter word on the tip of her tongue. “Well. How about that.”
Mandy wiggled her eyebrows suggestively one last time before moving off. Hannah tried to come to terms with what she’d just learned.
Joe Lawson, arrogant, judgmental neighbor extraordinaire, had purchased the one place left on earth where she felt like a normal human being. What were the odds?
She was seized with the sudden urge to march across the bar and demand he undo the sale, that he choose some other pub to invest in. This was her home away from home. She’d already lost the apartment she and Lucas had lived in, the future they’d planned. She’d narrowed her life to working hard and paying off her debts so she could escape. The Watering Hole had been her solace.
And now Joe Bloody Lawson had taken that away from her, too.
She should walk out the door and never come back. She didn’t like him, he didn’t like her. He made her uncomfortable. There were plenty of other places she could play pool and drink beer with her mates. But leaving felt like admitting defeat. Even if he owned the place now, she’d been here first. She’d been coming here for years, for Pete’s sake. There was no way she was going to let him run her out of town, so to speak.
“Your shot,” Bugsy said.
Hannah dragged her gaze away from where Joe was pouring shots for a group of university students. Jaw set, she took up her cue. Lining up a ball, she took her shot. The ball sped straight into the pocket with a satisfying thwack.
“Aw, man,” Bugsy complained as she started to clean up the table.
She wouldn’t back off. She would come here after work two or three times a week, same as she always had. Joe was nothing to her. Less than nothing.
Absolutely.
TWO WEEKS LATER, Joe let himself into the house to find his mother dozing on the couch. He tried to be quiet but she started to wakefulness as he entered the room.
“Joe! You scared me.”
“Sorry. I tried to be quiet.”
She sat up and ran her hands over her hair.
“My goodness, it’s after eleven. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but television was dreadful tonight. All that horrible reality TV just celebrates the absolute worst in humanity. What happened to good old-fashioned dramas like Dallas and Dynasty?”
“Joan Collins got old and J.R. got sick,” he said. He dropped his keys onto the coffee table and stretched out his back. “How were the kids? Did Ben get through his homework okay?”
Joe had been making a point of being home when the kids got in from school most days, only heading into the pub after they’d had their dinner. His long-term plan was to hire a night manager, but his mother had been good enough to cover the evenings while he learned the ropes at The Watering Hole in these early weeks. Tonight, however, he’d had to delegate all child care to his mother while he dealt with a staff crisis. Not a big deal, but annoying given that the whole point of buying the business had been to offer his kids a more stable home life.
“He told me he did it. I’m not sure what that means anymore,” his mother said.
He ran a hand over his hair. He knew exactly what she meant. Ben had become increasingly incommunicative lately. He spent a lot of time alone in his room listening to his iPod or playing on his handheld game, and no matter what Joe said or did he couldn’t get more than a shrug and a handful of words from his son.
“Have you had that talk with him yet?” his mother asked.
“Yes. He said school is fine, he’s making friends. He likes the new house. I couldn’t get anything more out of him.” He sat on the couch beside her. “I should have stuck it out in Sydney.”
“Maybe, but you’re here now. And once Ben and Ruby settle, things will even out, you’ll find new rhythms and routines.”
“I guess.”
“How’s the pub going?”
“Good. Still getting used to being on my feet most of the day.” He gave her a tired smile. “Got soft over the past few years, being a desk jockey.”
He’d given up his work on the offshore oil rigs when Beth died and taken a desk job so he could be around for the kids. It had been more than enough to prove to him that suit-and-tie stuff was not for him. Hence the purchase of the pub. It had always been Beth’s dream that they buy their own place and run it as a family.
“You look tired,” his mother said, her eyes concerned.
“I’m okay.”
“I know it must be hard. You and Beth always planned on doing this together.”
He shrugged. He had to do something with his life now that he could no longer do the rig work he loved. He’d decided to go ahead with Beth’s dream because he hadn’t had one of his own and she’d always said that when he gave up offshore work he’d go stir-crazy if he tried to take on a nine-to-five job. The past two years had more than proven her right.
Just for a moment he allowed himself to wonder what she’d think of The Watering Hole. He hoped she’d like its old-fashioned wooden bar and beat-up floor, the scratched and scarred tables and chairs and the chalkboards dating back to the 1930s. She’d always talked about buying a traditional place, a pub where families could get a reasonably priced meal and where the locals came to spend time with each other. No slot machines, no loud bands to scare people off. A neighborhood place.
His mother stood and started collecting her things. “I’d better get going. I’ll see you around dinnertime tomorrow, okay?”
He looked at her. “I appreciate this. You know that, right?” He’d never been great with words, but he hoped she understood how much he valued everything she’d done for him and his kids.
“I do. And you don’t have to keep thanking me. Ben and Ruby keep me young.” She squeezed his hand and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Get some sleep.”
He walked her to her car and waited until she’d rounded the corner before turning back to the house. He glanced at the Napier place as he walked up the front path. The light was on in the garage, illumination leaking out around the edges of the roller door. He could hear the radio playing. Hannah was obviously in there, tinkering away at something. He didn’t need to check his watch to know it was late, well past eleven. What the hell did she have to do in there that couldn’t wait until morning?
Over the past two weeks he’d watched her at The Watering Hole. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d been unable to help himself. The moment she walked in the door she exerted a gravitational pull on his senses that he found impossible to ignore. She came in twice, maybe three times a week. She had a beer,
