The Magnolia Inn(5)

“Dotty owns a bar?” Jolene had almost fallen out of the boat.

“Yes, she does, but we don’t hold it against her,” Aunt Sugar had said.

Jolene had only planned to find the place from the road instead of the Big Cypress Bayou, and she didn’t expect to talk to Dotty that day—after all, it was New Year’s Day. She’d come back the next morning. But she sat there in the parking lot admiring the sign for a while. The same alligator was on the front as the back, but THE TIPSY GATOR was written above him in purple lettering. Maybe she should have a big sign designed to go out on the highway to show folks that’s where the turnoff to the Magnolia Inn was located.

She’d put the truck in reverse and was about to leave when Dotty pushed the back door open and tossed a bucket of soapy water to the side. Jolene turned off the engine and hurried across the lot, but she was too late. Dotty had already gone back inside, and the door was locked. Jolene rapped on it as hard as she could and shivered as she waited.

Finally Dotty yelled, “Who is it?”

“Just a bartender lookin’ for a job,” she hollered.

“I thought I recognized your voice.” Dotty threw open the door. “Come on in here out of the cold, darlin’.”

“I need a job,” Jolene blurted out.

“Why? You’ve got the inn to remodel and run. And besides, Sugar would shoot me on the spot if I put you to work in the Gator.” Dotty steered her toward the bar. “Want a beer?”

“I’d love a club soda with a twist of lime,” Jolene said. “But it’s like this . . .” She went on to tell her about the meeting with Reuben. “Aunt Sugar says that no one is completely evil or completely good. I discovered my bad part when he was so smug. I wanted to strangle him.”

“Well,” Dotty said, “that little peckerhead could’ve stood a lot of stranglin’ when he was a kid. He like to have driven Sugar crazy when he came for the summer, but he was always sweet to Jasper, so she endured him.”

She rounded the end of the bar and made two drinks—the one Jolene had asked for and a strawberry daiquiri for herself. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, isn’t it, chère? Mortgage the Magnolia and buy him out.”

“I have no credit. I’m as afraid of a credit card as I am of drinking after what happened when Daddy died. You know that Mama had to sell everything to get out of debt. I have a hundred dollars in my checking account right now. I don’t think there’s a bank in Texas that would even consider giving me money.” She bit back tears. “I just need a job. Please, Dotty.”

“You should ask Lucy and Flossie about that. Either one of them would gladly put you to work in their antique stores,” Dotty said.

“I don’t know a thing about antiques. I’ve been a bartender since my twenty-first birthday. Come on, Dotty, even if it’s just part-time?”

“How about I loan you enough to live on until someone buys the other half?” Dotty asked. “I mean it, chère. Sugar will never speak to me if I hire you.”

“Why not hire me? It’s good honest work, and she never fussed at me for what I did all these years. Loans are the same as credit in my books.” Jolene had always loved it when Dotty called her chère in that deep southern accent. The word meant dear or darling in French and sounded so sweet.

“But you weren’t working in my bar.” She took a deep breath and said, “But what the hell? Sugar and I’ve had our arguments before and we got past them, and she did tell us to take care of you. I was about to put an ad in the paper for a part-time bartender. Friday and Saturday nights. Opening to closing. That’d be eighteen hours a week, ten dollars an hour, and you keep all your tips. And, chère, I really like that you don’t drink. Last part-time help I had was plastered by the time he went home every evening.”

Jolene did the math in her head. Depending on tips, of course, that would pay the utilities and keep her in food. Hopefully someone would see the potential in the inn and buy it before long.

She leaned over and hugged Dotty. “Thank you. I’ll be here Friday half an hour before opening to help you get things ready, and I’ll do the cleanup after hours, too.”

“Now tell me again, chère, where did you work and how long? Since Bruce died and I had to take over the whole nine yards of runnin’ this place, time gets away from me,” Dotty said.

“Ten years at the Twisted Rope out in West Texas. I can handle myself and the customers. You can call my previous employer if you need a reference,” she answered. “So you and Bruce ran this together?”

“Yep, he inherited it from his father. Sugar, Lucy, and Flossie almost had a heart attack when we decided to run it ourselves.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I think the whole bunch of them kind of lost respect for me, but hey, we made more money in this little shack than we ever did workin’ our asses off in office jobs.”

“People will always find a place to drink and party,” Jolene said.

“Let’s celebrate a new partnership with New Year’s dinner. I’ve got a pot of black-eyed peas going in my apartment, and I hate to eat alone. Follow me,” Dotty said.

This job is sure starting out different, she thought as she followed Dotty across the barroom floor. Her boss at the Twisted Rope had been a grumpy old man who owned three bars. He’d never invited her to dinner, given her a Christmas bonus, or even told her she was doing a good job. He paid her on Saturday nights, simply handing her the envelope with her paycheck in it. But comparing him to Dotty was like comparing apples to goats. Dotty had been Aunt Sugar’s friend since they were little girls. Her other boss had been a stranger, even after ten years.