Whines and Whiskeys

Chapter One (unedited)

Chapter One

Gray clouds hung overhead, keeping our fishing village of Atkinsville, South Carolina, at a balmy 48 degrees for January. I walked my sweet pup Guy, a white mutt with some grey and black spots, toward Bless Your Brew. Today, I wanted a decadent coffee. Extra sugar, extra caffeine, flavored syrup and maybe whipped cream. I’d had a nasty dream last night about an angry ghost screaming at me in a weird language. It was one of those dreams where I ran and ran and closed and locked doors and windows of some strange building, and he was still there. I shook my head, rolled my shoulders back, and inhaled fresh air.

It’d been a dream. Not a vision.

I focused on the holiday lights and decorations that still hung from store windows. I loved our little downtown area. Our family pub, Pour Decisions, didn’t decorate for a few reasons. First, our customers were mostly fishermen, and they took time off over the holidays, so business was slow. Second, if we decorated, we’d have to clean it up after. Third, our regulars didn’t care. In fact, our die-hard regulars preferred to have one place that was safe from holiday music and tinsel.

Grams, however, loved to put together menus with a theme. She changed up the menu–not so much the food, just the names of the dishes.

Mistletoe Melt grilled cheese was a hit. We served it with tomato soup that Grams called Blitzen in a Blender.

Krampus Quesadilla had a lukewarm reception.

People refused to order Frosty’s Fingers, instead calling them mozzarella sticks.

Reindeer Remains, our gumbo, didn’t sell at all.

Grams said she’d do better next year.

I hoped she’d forget.

Mom, Grams and I had decorated the house I grew up in with bright colorful lights outside, and a Christmas tree set up in front of the living room window. Except for college, I’d lived in the house for my thirty years. On my thirtieth birthday, I’d moved to the apartment above Pour. The house was two blocks away, so it wasn’t like I’d moved far. But I enjoyed my own space.

And I really liked that Grams had space to enjoy canoodling with Spook, a fisherman and regular, and part of our chosen family.

I loved Christmas. This was the first year I’d had a boyfriend over for Christmas dinner. Boyfriend felt wrong, but at thirty, what was I supposed to call the man I was dating besides Jack?

The holidays had been nice. Mostly normal. As normal as I was comfortable with.

After coffee, my plan for this morning was to see Annie Hitchens. We’d reconnected when I moved out because she’d installed my internet. She lived on a haunted farm and knew I could see ghosts. Now she wanted me to figure out why the ghost in her kitchen was carrying on.

Because I could talk to ghosts.

And everyone in town knew it.

And it’s a small town.

Which is also why I didn’t have regular counseling clients in town even though I’d earned my master’s in psychology and was a certified counselor.

But talking to ghosts pegged me as not quite normal. Well, that and the whole having visions.

I’d had an interesting childhood. Thankfully, Mom and Grams had gifts, too. Grams read tarot cards, and Mom read palms. Both were accurate. My visions were not.

Guy pulled on the leash, as if he knew I was getting coffee. He’d gained some weight and inches and now topped the scale at fifteen pounds. I figured he’d be about twenty pounds when fully grown. Guy loved the coffee shop because Ashley, the barista, kept biscuits behind the counter for him.

Marshall Ward exited Bless Your Brew. His scowl morphed into a used-car salesperson’s smile when he spotted me, and he headed my way. His white teeth sparkled from his tanning-bed hued face.

Guy barked once as if warning me trouble was coming. It was too late to turn around. I smoothed my Pour Decisions Start Here t-shirt down, tugging the hem over the waistband of my jeans.

Marshall reached me, grabbed my hand and pumped it up and down vigorously. “Wanda, it’s good to see you. Thank you again for the lovely wedding gift.”

I’d been dragged to his wedding by my boyfriend, Jack, who’d purchased a crystal sugar bowl and slapped my name along with his on the card.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.” It’d been on the registry list. It wasn’t like we’d searched and searched.

“I was hoping to run into you.” Marshall finally released my hand.

Prickles ran across my neck and down my spine. I kept my polite bartender smile in place. “Oh?” I’d discovered Prohibition Booze in the smuggler’s keep in the basement of Pour Decisions months ago, and we’d sold it for millions. Since then, Marshall had been friendly toward me.

“Yes.” He leaned even closer into the ‘people would wonder if we’re having an affair’ zone. “You’ve heard about the excellent opportunity, our Azalea Bluff Golf and Residences development.”

“Yes.” Everyone had. Sweat began to break out on the back of my neck. This was going bad quickly. I had no idea why, but I’d learned to listen to the messages my body sent me.

“Well, I need you to read my future. I’m looking for more investors, and I need your help.” He held out his hand, palm up.

Relieved he wasn’t asking for money, I relaxed. Slightly. “I don’t read palms. My mom does sometimes, although she’s cut way back.” I lied because I wasn’t a horrible person and I didn’t want Mom to have to deal with him. I knew Grams had already refused to do a tarot reading for him.

He snapped his hand back. “Well, what do you do then?”

“Sometimes I have visions, and sometimes I can see and talk to ghosts. But I can’t do either on command, sorry.”

He recoiled, his nose wrinkling like Guy had just deposited something on his shoe. “Well, that’s not very useful, is it?”

“It can be quite inconvenient.” I gave him a bland smile. Sweat covered my palms, and a ringing started in my ears. My body wanted me to leave immediately. “Sorry.” I stepped around him and swung open Bless Your Brew’s door. I took a cleansing breath. Guy ran in ahead of me but skidded to a stop.

Melody, Marshall’s more tolerable half, stood at the counter, accepting change from Ashley. The coins clinked into her cavernous leather purse, which was a fabulous shade of purple and matched her puffer jacket.

“Marshall’s under so much pressure. He really appreciates you and all the work you do for our community.” Melody stuck a five-dollar bill in the tip jar.

“I understand.” Ashley turned to clean the coffee machine.

Melody palmed the pennies from the small “leave a penny, take a penny” bowl into her hand when she picked up the two coffee cups.

I froze, flabbergasted.

Melody gave me a polite head nod as she left.

I preferred the polite head nod to the typical five-minute or more southern greeting, but did she really just swipe pennies after leaving a tip?

I held the door with the Jack Kelly for Sheriff poster open for Melody. Ashley gave me an epic eye roll. I worried she’d stretched her optic nerve too far.

I ambled closer and checked the penny bowl. It was empty. “What was that about? Are you okay?”

“I am now. Those two are just getting worse, you know?” Ashley tossed a treat to Guy and then pulled a cookie out of the bakery display and placed it on a napkin. “You want the usual?”

“Today I’m treating myself to a y’all sized with two shots of sass and two pumps of praline. No foam ‘cause I don’t trust it.”

Ashley shook her head. “What’s not to trust about foam?”

“The stuff it leaves on my upper lip that I miss and end up looking like I’m rabid.”

“I’ll give you that. Ya’ know, they invented this thing called a napkin.” She nodded toward the napkin dispenser.

“That’s what sleeves are for,” I teased.

She gave me a half-hearted head shake.

“Okay, while you’re making my magical potion, spill the tea. How are Marshall and Melody worse?” I leaned against the counter.

Ashley deftly tamped down the espresso and started the machine. “You didn’t hear this from me.”

The six words that ensured the best gossip was about to be spilled…

Ashley poured my delicious brew into a cup. “Well, I heard from Raevon McKenzie,” she paused. “You know her?” She gave me a look that said she knew all about my involvement with the McKenzies.

“Yes.” I’d helped her mother, Alicia, avoid a murder charge. Small towns–where everybody knew everybody–when asked ‘do you know her’ people meant, ‘were they in your phone’s contacts list’?

“Nice gal. She said Marshall’s development’s in trouble. So, Marshall comes in here asking me about our sales. They’ve been average.” She looked at me. “How’s yours?”

I shrugged. “Quiet. We’re packed in the evenings when there’s a scandal going on.”

She chuffed. “Yeah, that’s me in the mornings. People congregate to find out what’s going on.” She finished making my drink and handed it to me. “Raevon said Marshall needs more investors and fast or the deal’s gonna go bad and all those people will lose their money.” She arched an eyebrow. “That man suggested he was gonna have to raise the rent here. Our lease is good for nine months, and he hasn’t even fixed the leaky sink. Don’t even get me started on the toilet that keeps backing up.”

I eyed her coffee equipment. It was crazy expensive. Would it fit in the bar? Maybe she could open in the mornings?

Ashley shook her head. “I’m gonna need a second job. You hiring?” She looked at me hopefully.

“We can work something out. Your lease is up soon, right?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, but I’m gonna have to talk to a lawyer or something because Marshall said he could raise the rent early.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Right? I said the same thing and told him I’d have my lawyer contact him.” She leaned closer. “Really, it’s my cousin who does trademark law. Plus, the lease stated he couldn’t raise the price more than five percent. Marshall got so red. He’s gonna stroke out.” She stood straight. “Then he says he’ll kick me out.”

“That’s awful. He’s got the charm of a wet possum.” That was one of Grams’ favorite sayings. “You need to write down the date he threatened you and what happened, just in case.” I looked for some cameras, but she didn’t have any because it’s a small town.

She nodded. “Good idea.”

“I’m sure we can give you a few shifts if you need them, but I doubt you will. Melody seemed to try to calm things down.”

Ashley rolled her eyes again. “She’s just as bad. Both of them are meaner than snakes. I feel bad for anyone who invested in his development.”

“Me too.”

“Did he ask you?” Ashley leaned against the counter.

“Nope.”

“Huh, I’d thought since y’all got all that prohibition money…” Her voice trailed off, waiting for me to fill in the silence with juicy gossip of my own.

It was only fair.

I sipped my coffee. “He may have talked to Grams,” I said carefully, like this was a secret. Basically, Marshall had hit up anyone with a few extra thousand.

“What did he ask you outside just now?”

“He told me he wanted more investors and asked me to read his future.” I took another sip of the coffee. The sweetness was perfect.

“Hmm. Can you do that?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Nope. I get really inconvenient visions and ghostly visits. And not on demand. He’d have to go to my mom or Grams for that.”

Ashley smiled widely. “I love them so much. Your momma read my palm last week and told me that my future was solid. She even saw a man and three kids.” Ashley chuckled. “I hadn’t even thought about settlin’ down, but now that’s all I think about.”

I blinked in surprise. A few months ago, my mom had read someone’s palm, and they blew up their life and blamed my mom for the outcome. It’s not like the messages are destined. It’s a vision, just one possibility.

“I’m glad she did.”

Ashley’s eyes widened. “Somethin’ wrong with Ms. Lydia?”

I treaded carefully. “She’s been reluctant to use her gifts.”

Ashley blew air out between her lips. “Yeah, I heard all about Ms. Hooper’s reading. That woman has no sense. It’s not like we’re fated. She’s always been Ms. Most-Likely to store more nuts than a squirrel.”

“Exactly.” I immediately relaxed. “But I’m happy Mom read your palm. This thing with Marshall could be the first nudge to find a new path to a stronger future.”

Ashley grinned. “Yeah? I’d like that. You know, you just made my whole day brighter.”

“That makes me happy.” I put $10 on the counter and saluted her with my cup. “This is delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I turned to leave.

“Wait, your change…”

“Keep it. Put it toward your ‘New Future’ fund.” I waved and stepped outside. It was still gray and chilly, but the coffee hit the spot.