I mulled over the fact that this would be the first time in years I hadn’t spent Thanksgiving with Zoey. I’d planned to just spend the day holed up in the cabin working, but with so much of my fabric having gotten ruined by the fireplace incident a few days earlier, I was out of luck until the new material arrived. Not to mention that being out and about even for a little while today had proven that I needed the social interaction. If I didn’t go somewhere, I’d stay in and feel sorry for myself all day.
“I’m not sure about Christmas because my friend Zoey is coming into town, but I would love to for Thanksgiving. Can I bring anything?”
We spent the next half hour chatting about Haven. He told me more about the wilderness adventure company he ran with Xander and about their teenage son, Lucky. When it was time to wrap up the visit, Bennett was kind enough to help me get my car back up the hill and unload the groceries before driving me back down to Haven to pick up the Jeep.
Driving the big-ass old Jeep with a stick shift was a challenge I hadn’t been prepared for, so I decided to stay in town for dinner and drown my sorrows while trying to get up the nerve to drive the beast up the mountain. Shortly after stripping a few gears, I managed to park the damned thing and found myself at the crowded bar of the Mustache Tavern. As soon as I saw the giant moose head with a fake twirly mustache hanging over the bar, I knew exactly how the place had gotten its name.
“What’ll ya have?” the bartender asked with a big, deep voice. He looked to be about my age but was huge like a burly mountain man. Thank god, he didn’t have a mustache like the moose above his head. Unfortunately, he also looked straight as an arrow.
Shame.
“I don’t suppose you have apple martinis?” The man looked at me liked I’d asked him to serve me leprechaun piss, so I raised my voice above the chatter around me and quickly amended, “I’ll take a pint of whatever local lager you recommend.”
Once the man had turned to pour my beer, I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Oz, come join us!”
It was Becky from the clinic, and she was gesturing toward a large table of women sharing several platters of appetizers. My initial gut reaction was to decline. I didn’t want one of them to recognize me and make a big deal of my presence. But then I realized that since cutting off my hair, no one had given me any hint of recognition. Maybe I could allow myself to make some more new friends like Zoey had suggested.
“I’d love to.”
I quickly paid the bartender and followed Becky to her table, where she introduced me to her friends.
“Everyone, this is Oz. He’s helping us with the clinic renovations,” she said with an arm around my shoulders. “Thank god we found him, or you wouldn’t believe what a horror show the place was going to be.”
The ladies were a ton of fun. Two of them worked in a nearby boutique and begged me to stop by and consult on their window display. One woman was a new mom out for her first girls’ night since having the baby. And another worked in a hair salon and promptly offered to give me a discount on some highlights because they’d “make my eyes pop.” It didn’t take long until we were all laughing and sharing as if we’d known each other for years.
Without me really thinking about it, the beer was switched to tequila and the laughing turned into giggling. It was hours later, but it seemed like minutes.
“I mean, I’m not little Ozias from Utah anymore, you know?” I slurred. “I know color ’n shit. And contracts too. He should have trusted me to know these things.” I hiccupped. “Like… what? What were we talking about? Do you know?”
The new mom, Frieda, looked at me with bleary eyes. “Whether or not I should get an IUD,” she said with a snort. “I’ll put you down as a yes.”
“Oh, right. Well, I’m not sure what that is, but it sounds nice.”
Someone else picked up my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “We need to figure out how to get you home, sweetie.”
This time it was Becky who piped up. “I’ve already texted Jake to come get him. He lives next door and has four-wheel drive.”
“No!” I cried. “Not the hot neighbor. He’s moody-eyed and doesn’t have enough scarves to make the whole place look right, you know what I mean? I need to get him some of those poofy things. Fabric and the whatsits that go in it. Pillowy fluffy things that you put in the cover deal with the fabric part. What? Don’t you all know how a pillow works?”