“Would you?”
“But he really appeared to like you,” she mused, and my heart squeezed because I had thought he had, too. When I said nothing, she yawned. “Well, you definitely win first prize in the ‘I’ve had a Shite Day’ competition. I can’t begin to compete. My only entry is my latest research paper reads like someone watching a fly circle a lightbulb.”
I chuckled. “Sorry to hear that. I’ll try to create some drama around you next time you’re serving behind the bar.”
Maria snorted, but fell serious. “Never mind poor me, this call is supposed to be about you. What are you going to do, Daisy? It's been months since he disappeared.”
“Three months with no contact, apart from a ‘missing you’ text the day after he’d gone. Where the fuck has he been— outer Mongolia? It’s bull shite, him getting in touch now. I have to admit, I must have been sick in the head to have thought that relationship had any real chance of being normal.”
“Yeah, but I can’t get over the way he looked at you. No one can fake the way he looked so adoringly toward you. Why don’t you just hear the woman out? You didn’t even let her tell you why she’d called,” Maria asked, gently.
I ignored her comments. I’d seen articles about him during the previous months. “What about those articles in those gossip and celebrity magazines in the States? Frances found those online, remember? Did he look like he was pining for me in those pictures of him with leggy models? No, Maria, I’m not chasing someone who’s here one minute and gone the next.”
“If that’s what you feel. It might be better not to engage, like you said. He could come back for another taste and disappear again,” she admitted. “But just think of all the women in the world that have dreamed of what happened to you. Actually, I take back what I said. You’re a fecking legend for hanging up on that woman.”
“Thanks for listening, Maria. I’m going to catch up on some sleep. I’ve not been sleeping well. Terry felt sorry for me and is coming in early as well to clear the bottles, sort out the cellar and clean the pipes. G’night, sweetheart, sleep well.”
The following morning, Terry had come back inside from washing Halloween string from the windows outside, while I had kept watch over the bar. It was barely opening time and I left him to deal with the same three old regulars who always came in minutes after we unlocked the door.
Meanwhile, I stood at the other end of the bar and studied the contents of a box file I had put together during the previous year.
I knew checking the past orders I’d placed would help estimate what quantities of beers, spirits and various syrups I would need for the multi soft drink mixer tap to see us through the rest of November. I saw that month as the calm before the storm, because December the year before had been insanely busy.
“Terry, can you see to anyone that comes in? I want to get a jump on the plans for Christmas. I’m drawing up a to-do list for the food and drinks stock we’ll need leading up to next month.”
“Sure. Do what you need to do. You can take that upstairs if you want.”
“No, I’d rather stay here. If I’m up there, I’ll only end up on social media when I’m looking for something and I’ll achieve nothing.”
Terry chuckled but didn’t reply as I dragged a stool around to my side of the bar. I closed the hatch on the counter and sat down, using the deep counter as a desk. Reaching out I grabbed the free brewery calendar on the wall and set it down next to me. I turned the page to December and began to formulate my stock needs.
I had been looking forward to it being hectic, knowing it would be a welcome distraction, preventing me from dwelling on my feelings about Jamie Fontaine.
November was the month when I had to be ultra-organized for the various work party bookings I’d already taken. Once this was done, I knew how much capacity there was left for the last-minute bookings.
Being in town, my business had the best of both worlds, as there were some larger offices that had booked the whole function room out, and along with local circles of friends and much smaller business firms close by, my bar was never short of customers once the party season started.
December was always insanely busy. I had a resident disco in the function room from December 1st through the 30th with parties booked for every night leading up to Christmas, and more family orientated bookings between Christmas and New Year. Although, New Year’s Eve was reserved for our live band and Ceilidh, which was a heavily sought after event and sold out every year well before Halloween.
It was the time of year where focusing on my business had to be my sole priority if I wanted to fulfill all those obligations, and the catering staff agency had to be contacted for the extra staffing, because we’d need to keep everything flowing smoothly.
It usually meant stocking both bars daily, and keeping on top of that took a lot of advanced preparation. Placing orders ahead was tricky. Apart from the large quantities we had to stockpile, we had the added headache of where to physically store it all.
Due to the size of my storage facilities and fire insurance requirements due to the spirit content, this usually resulted in daily deliveries instead of my usual weekly ones.
Although I was concentrating, I became vaguely aware someone had entered the bar, but since Terry had it covered, I continued studying the spreadsheet I’d made.
“Hi, Daisy, top of the morning to ya.”
The pathetically poor imitation of an Irish accent pulled my eyes to the voice, and my heart skipped a beat. A jolt of electricity shocked my body and instinct took over as fury rose in my chest.
Grabbing the plastic water bottle, I had been drinking from, I threw it at the man who had spoken. A cocky smile fell from the face I had never expected to see in my pub again as Jamie Fontaine dropped to the floor behind the counter.
Meanwhile, the open bottle I’d thrown hurled past him, water spilling from the uncapped neck of it, until the plastic vessel crumbled on impact with the wall behind him and fell with a dull thud to the floor.
My heartbeat pounded, reeling from the sudden visit. I grabbed hold of the counter to keep my balance, and silently cursed him for the instant way my body thrummed at the sight of him.
“Baby, I’m used to wet things being thrown at me, but they’re usually thongs, G-strings or panties,” he joked, trying to make me laugh.
I saw nothing humorous about his sudden reappearance. My emotions scattered instantly in all directions as my eager eyes betrayed my shattered, confused heart when I took in the sight of him smiling before me. My body went into emotional chaos, my heart thumping erratically as a tremble shook my whole body from being so close to him again.
After my initial shock, my chest felt tight, like an invisible fist had squeezed my throat and I felt as if I couldn’t take in any air. I fought hard against that unwelcomed feeling, because it was the same as the one I had felt when I’d first found out he’d left.
It infuriated me how wired my body became the second I saw him, but every second longer I stared at him, I felt that initial rage within me melt like butter, despite my steaming temper. Jamie was the kind of handsome that had women transfixed, and he looked better than the last time I’d seen him.
“Barney, I’m not sure that you’re welcome in this pub. I think you’re barred.” Seamus, one of my locals said, looking to me for confirmation. Still stunned by his sudden reappearance, I didn’t reply.