“You don’t have to explain yourself,” she says quickly. “It’s your house. I was just—” Her cheeks flood a little pink, and it’s lovely on her face. “Never mind.”
I just smile, not teasing her more. Instead I look to Cora, who is happily munching on toast and scrambled eggs.
“And how are you this morning, Miss Cora?”
The little girl makes her hand signal for ‘okay’, and I nod.
“Lainey’s gonna come by to hang out with you tonight. You looking forward to seeing her?”
Cora nods, shoving eggs into her mouth at the speed of light.
“Chew, baby,” Harper says, ruffling her hair. “The eggs won’t run away.”
“The chickens who laid them are a different story, but the eggs will stay right on your plate.”
Cora doesn’t laugh, but there’s a sparkle in her eyes that seems like amusement, and I’ll take that.
I cross to the sink to wash my hands and then go to make myself a second cup of coffee. “You know, it’s real cute, how close the two of you are,” I tell Harper. “It’s clear to see how much you love her and how good you are with her.”
Harper looks down at the counter for a second, and I wonder if I’ve stepped into something she doesn’t want to talk about. There are plenty of things like that, with Harper having her guard up so high most of the time with us. She’s private, and I try to respect that, even though I want to get to know her better.
She drags in a deep breath, and when she speaks, she doesn’t look at me. “I’m all she has left,” Harper says. “She’s my sister’s daughter, but I’ll be adopting her as soon as I can and raising her as my own.”
“That’s noble of you. Your sister is?—”
“Gone,” Harper says. “Dead.”
I figured it was something like that. Little girl who doesn’t talk and her aunt who seems like she’s lost more than her fair share in life. There had to be a sad story behind all that.
“I’m sorry for your loss. My mama died a while back, and I know it’s hard to lose someone you love. Someone you should have had a lot more time with, if life wasn’t so cruel sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Harper murmurs. “It sucks. I’m sorry for your loss, too.”
I give her a smile, a more gentle version of the one I usually hit her with, and for a moment, it feels like we’re bonded in the understanding of how much it can hurt to just suddenly be without someone so important to you.
It’s probably the most she’s shared about herself since I met her, and I don’t want to push my luck or intrude on their morning moment for longer than necessary.
“I’m gonna go shower,” I tell her. “I’ll see you later to head to the bar?”
Harper nods, and I flash her one last smile before heading up the stairs to my room.
Later that evening, we head to the bar together. Harper moves around the space with confidence now, settling into the routines and work with ease. She’s comfortable getting set up on her own, arranging bottles of simple syrup and grenadine so they’re within reach, prepping the little bowls of garnishes.
People recognize her now and know her by name, and I wonder how she feels about that. The regulars come in and she greets them, serving up their usual orders without them even having to ask.
She never lingers for too long with any of the customers, making polite small talk, but then finding something to take her to the other side of the bar before anyone can ask her too much or get too close. But the short time she does spend there is polite and genuine, so it never affects her tips.
Most people in this town just come here to drink and shoot the shit with their neighbors anyway, so no one takes offense if she doesn’t stand there talking to them all evening.
Watching her work, I pat myself on the back again for hiring her. It was just to be nice, to try to help her out since she was in a tight spot, but it turned out to be a great thing for the bar.
“Can you recommend me something?” Dan Carpenter asks, leaning on the bar. “Something for heartache?”
“You got your heart broken?” Harper replies, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry to hear it.”
Dan shakes his head. “Not yet, but it’s coming. I can feel it. We went from going to the movies every weekend to her wanting ‘girls trips’ and spending all her time with her coworkers. She’s either cheating or done with me.”
“Or she’s tired of going to the movies every weekend and wants to do something else,” Harper suggests. She grabs a bottle of tequila down from the shelf and measures it out into a glass, then adds cola and a squeeze of lime. “Here you go.”