while? Maybe he could fill in a couple nights,” said Don.
“Nope. He’ll drink too much,” said Nellie. “Why do you think Wally got rid of him?”
“There’s so many people out of work, Dad, there must be someone,” said Jane.
“Hard to find a bartender, Janie. If they’re honest, they probably drink. And if they drink, well, they drink,” said Don. “It’s not exactly an important career, bartending.”
“Yeah, but enough people need jobs right now, so there are—”
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” said Nellie, wiping her hands on her apron and grabbing the scratch pad of paper always next to the cash register. “We still open early like the factory’s still going, like I have to start my soup and you know goddamn well, there’s no need to be here at seven. We’ll open at ten and we’ll close at ten. That’ll keep Francis happy in the morning, he can still get his coffee, just a little later and it’ll still give the boys a place to watch the game in the afternoon and—”
“You can’t work twelve hours a day! That’s ridiculous,” said Jane.
Don and Nellie both stared at her.
“We’ve always worked ten or twelve hours, haven’t we?” said Don, looking at Nellie. “And once or twice a week, I come back here and close up when Carl’s not feeling so well so I…”
Don stopped and Jane knew he was thinking about what might have been prevented if he had returned last night to close up. She was trying to think of something to say that would reassure her dad, when two men walked in through the back door. Jane didn’t recognize them, but Don and Nellie both stood, nodding like they had been expecting them. Don shook hands with both of the men, and although the gray-haired one tried to give Nellie a hug, she ducked out of the way and asked if they wanted a cup of coffee.
“This is our daughter, Jane, Wally. Jane, this is Wally and his brother, Mel. They own Wally’s Pub down the way.”
Jane put out her hand but both men looked confused. Really? thought Jane. There are still men who are thrown by a woman who offers to shake hands?
“We know Jane!” said the gray-haired one, laughing at the outstretched hand and grabbing her in a bear hug.
“Yeah, Carl talked about you and your brother, Michael, all the time. He spent a hundred bucks on that stuffed dog when you had your baby boy. Oh yeah, you’re part of the family, Jane,” said Mel, who, Jane saw, looked just like his brother except for the shoe polish black hair. Their voices were identical, too, and Jane realized, looking back and forth at their faces, they were twins. Mel, apparently, was the vain one, refusing to accept the gray hair his brother wore proudly. Or maybe they just wanted people to be able to tell them apart.
“We just missed you at the hospital,” said Wally. “We were bringing you this,” he said, holding up a fat manila envelope. Jane could read upside down, all those years of sitting in meetings with the account executives, trying to read their notes and agendas, telling time upside down by the Rolexes flashed across the table, had made her ambi-optical, as she called it. The return address on the envelope was that of a law firm, Beasley and Beasley in downtown Kankakee.
“It’s Carl’s will,” said Mel.
Silence. Jane could hear the whoosh of the fan in the big cooler starting up and then a few fat drips of water splash into the rinse tanks.
“What the hell are we supposed to do with it?” said Nellie, but her bark definitely had no bite.
Wally and Mel sat down at the bar and accepted cups of coffee from Nellie, although Mel looked into the cup like he would prefer to refresh his hair color with it rather than consume the stuff. Wally then proceeded to do most of the talking, explaining that Carl hadn’t been well for some time. He knew his blood pressure was too high and his heart was weak, but he had told the brothers that he wanted to keep working and die behind the bar.
“He
“Nope. He’ll drink too much,” said Nellie. “Why do you think Wally got rid of him?”
“There’s so many people out of work, Dad, there must be someone,” said Jane.
“Hard to find a bartender, Janie. If they’re honest, they probably drink. And if they drink, well, they drink,” said Don. “It’s not exactly an important career, bartending.”
“Yeah, but enough people need jobs right now, so there are—”
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” said Nellie, wiping her hands on her apron and grabbing the scratch pad of paper always next to the cash register. “We still open early like the factory’s still going, like I have to start my soup and you know goddamn well, there’s no need to be here at seven. We’ll open at ten and we’ll close at ten. That’ll keep Francis happy in the morning, he can still get his coffee, just a little later and it’ll still give the boys a place to watch the game in the afternoon and—”
“You can’t work twelve hours a day! That’s ridiculous,” said Jane.
Don and Nellie both stared at her.
“We’ve always worked ten or twelve hours, haven’t we?” said Don, looking at Nellie. “And once or twice a week, I come back here and close up when Carl’s not feeling so well so I…”
Don stopped and Jane knew he was thinking about what might have been prevented if he had returned last night to close up. She was trying to think of something to say that would reassure her dad, when two men walked in through the back door. Jane didn’t recognize them, but Don and Nellie both stood, nodding like they had been expecting them. Don shook hands with both of the men, and although the gray-haired one tried to give Nellie a hug, she ducked out of the way and asked if they wanted a cup of coffee.
“This is our daughter, Jane, Wally. Jane, this is Wally and his brother, Mel. They own Wally’s Pub down the way.”
Jane put out her hand but both men looked confused. Really? thought Jane. There are still men who are thrown by a woman who offers to shake hands?
“We know Jane!” said the gray-haired one, laughing at the outstretched hand and grabbing her in a bear hug.
“Yeah, Carl talked about you and your brother, Michael, all the time. He spent a hundred bucks on that stuffed dog when you had your baby boy. Oh yeah, you’re part of the family, Jane,” said Mel, who, Jane saw, looked just like his brother except for the shoe polish black hair. Their voices were identical, too, and Jane realized, looking back and forth at their faces, they were twins. Mel, apparently, was the vain one, refusing to accept the gray hair his brother wore proudly. Or maybe they just wanted people to be able to tell them apart.
“We just missed you at the hospital,” said Wally. “We were bringing you this,” he said, holding up a fat manila envelope. Jane could read upside down, all those years of sitting in meetings with the account executives, trying to read their notes and agendas, telling time upside down by the Rolexes flashed across the table, had made her ambi-optical, as she called it. The return address on the envelope was that of a law firm, Beasley and Beasley in downtown Kankakee.
“It’s Carl’s will,” said Mel.
Silence. Jane could hear the whoosh of the fan in the big cooler starting up and then a few fat drips of water splash into the rinse tanks.
“What the hell are we supposed to do with it?” said Nellie, but her bark definitely had no bite.
Wally and Mel sat down at the bar and accepted cups of coffee from Nellie, although Mel looked into the cup like he would prefer to refresh his hair color with it rather than consume the stuff. Wally then proceeded to do most of the talking, explaining that Carl hadn’t been well for some time. He knew his blood pressure was too high and his heart was weak, but he had told the brothers that he wanted to keep working and die behind the bar.
“He
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