As soon as we got back to the apartment, Stephanie surprised me by pulling an overnight bag out of the trunk along with a small cooler.
“Up for an old-fashioned sleepover?” she asked.
“Absolutely. What’s in the cooler?”
We got inside, and she propped the cooler on the one corner of the dining area table that was visible. Popping the lid, she revealed a bottle of wine, cheese, and chocolate.
“Maybe not so old-fashioned,” she said.
I laughed and directed her to the kitchen boxes so she could find the wine opener and glasses. We drank and laughed as we unpacked. It was much easier going through the overwhelming process of organizing and settling in with my best friend there to do it with me. We were having a blast until Stephanie dropped the question I’d been waiting and dreading to hear.
“Does Mason know you’re back?”
My heart gave a hard pound in my chest, and I shook my head. My lips pressed hard together, I focused on organizing my books in the shelf in front of me.
“I don’t really want to talk about him,” I said.
Thankfully, Stephanie took the hint and dropped it.
2
Mason
It was a pretty bad look for the bar when my brothers and I nearly outnumbered the actual customers. The only other people there were a couple of old guys sitting on the stools and scattered at the few tables. They were the town drunks, known for coming in and nursing drinks from opening until close. These were the type of people who woke up still a little bit alcohol soaked from the night before and immediately got going again. When their families tired of them drinking at home, or the lack of having a family at home got to them enough, they made their way here to the bar.
The Hollow was like another home for them. But maybe not in the heartwarming way that sounded. More like they just wandered in already three sheets to the wind and draped themselves over whatever seat they made it to. A beer or two filled up the hours from the time the door opened until I locked it behind them in the wee hours of the morning. It wasn’t unheard of for one of us to have to call in the police to give a regular customer a nudge out of the bar if they didn’t sober up over the course of the evening. Sometimes they got a ride to a cozy barred room for the night.
Too bad the cops weren’t allowed to drink while they were on the job. We could use the extra customers.
It had been a long time since we had a busy weekend. Hell, it had been a while since we’d had a truly busy night. The bar used to be a favorite place in Astoria. Every night people packed into the space and stayed until we shut it down. Drinks, food, a theme night every now and then. It was hopping and fulfilled the dream my brothers and I had from the time we were kids and started talking about having our own bar. Then something changed.
During the good times, the bar seemed like it really would be our saving grace. We’d talked about having a bar when we were young, but none of us ever took the steps to make that happen. We just kind of drifted around in life finding other things, looking for our own paths. Jordan left to serve in the military. Tom went to San Francisco and started up a tech company. It was like the family shattered.
But then our world really did come down around us.
Our father’s diagnosis with cancer right before Tom moved away was a hard blow. It came out of nowhere, but he wouldn’t let us stop our lives because of it. He practically threw Tom onto the train that transported him to San Francisco. The oldest of the brothers, Tom, tried to change his mind about leaving and said it was his responsibility to be there to take care of our father. But Dad wouldn’t hear anything of it. That wasn’t his job. Tom’s job was to go find his own life and do what made him happy. According to Dad, our parents had given of themselves and everything they had to raise their brood of boys. Giving it all up would put all that to waste.
It was enough to convince Tom to leave. He did exactly what our father told him to do and built the company he’d envisioned for years. None of us had any idea how important that company would be in just a matter of months. When our mother was diagnosed with cancer while our father was still fighting, it felt like everything was falling apart. They couldn’t work and needed so much care. It was overwhelming and frightening in a way I had never experienced.
That’s when The Hollow came into our lives. We didn’t have the luxury of just being upset, worried, and afraid. That wasn’t an option. We needed to stop thinking about ourselves, step up, and take care of our parents. Tom gave us the ability to do that when he bought us the bar.
I had to admit it was a bit of a shock when he told us. We were used to him checking in every couple of days and sending care packages, but that day, the video chat took an unexpected turn. All-but-instant millionaire or not, Tom couldn’t be expected to take on the responsibility of caring for all of us and our parents on his own. The rest of the brothers still in Astoria had jobs, but nothing particularly lucrative, and definitely not flexible. We didn’t have the option of just taking off if there was an emergency or adjusting our schedules to be there when our parents needed us.
The bar was going to give us that, Tom said. We could run it as we saw fit. That meant controlling our own schedules and bringing in a steady income without having to rely on someone else. He bought the bar, gave us enough money to get started, and we were on our way.
And also on our own. That was the day Tom decided all this was too much for him. He couldn’t cope with the stress or bear the emotional pain that came from it all. He needed to focus on himself and his life in San Francisco. We all tried to say we understood, especially when he promised he would stay in touch and visit, but in reality, none of us did. We all thought he was being cowardly and tossing our parents aside.
Some of that still lingered. We missed him and were mad at him at the same time. It wasn’t a comfortable state to be in.
But neither was trying to figure out how to deal with the bar. It wasn’t like we were completely going under. Fortunately, Jesse had the foresight to suggest we didn’t just run The Hollow as a neighborhood bar. That would be a primary draw, of course, but we needed to offer something else. Our lunch service and dinner in the evenings proved popular. A once-a-month brunch gave another boost of income that helped to compensate for the dwindling crowds coming in at night. Customers coming to eat kept the place afloat and enough income flowing in. But it also left the four of us exhausted.
As a cost-cutting measure, we kept to a minimum staff. It meant we didn’t have to pay a bunch of people and could keep more of the profits for ourselves. It also meant we were running ourselves into the ground. That was the message on our brother Matt’s face when he came into the bar and let out a deep sigh before dropping down onto the barstool beside me.
“Has it been like this all night?” he asked.
“Pretty much,” I confirmed. “Dinner was pretty good tonight, though.”
“So, does that mean I can leave?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Don’t even think about it. It’s just us on staff tonight. We have to handle the kitchen, the bar, the front of the house, and management. We need all hands on deck even if it doesn’t get busy.”
Matt let out another sigh and sagged against the stool. If it wasn’t so frustrating, the dramatic response would be funny.