Free Memory Tree by Joseph Pittman Page A

Mark’s shift at the bar, as Brian always spent Sunday with Janey. Except today, and so to fill the empty time he wiped down the bar and mopped the floor and got the beer taps gleaming underneath the new bulbs, deciding the wood floor required a major investment. A soft glow caught his eye and he suddenly found himself thinking about Christmas lights. He usually waited until the first of December—now just days away—to put up the holiday lights around the perimeter of the building. He had them in the back of the truck, along with the staple gun, leaving him to realize he could get started now.
    But he wasn’t feeling very full of holiday cheer, and besides, the afternoon had started to grow darker with each passing minute. By the time he got the ladder up and began the work, the sky would have embraced night. Last thing he needed was to fall off the ladder and end up like poor Richie Ravens down at the Solemn Nights. So instead, Brian did an unusual thing. He opened early by turning on the outside lights and flipping the CLOSED sign to OPEN. He grabbed one of his freshly laundered aprons and tied it around his waist. Might as well make some money; nothing else to do. Maybe he’d call Cynthia and see about having Janey stay for dinner after all. He could call Mark too, and tell him not to rush back from his waiter job down at the resort in Hudson.
    He was about to place both calls when the front door opened and in stepped an unlikely but welcome patron.
    â€œNora, what are you doing here?”
    â€œI think I could ask the same of you. It’s Sunday, right?”
    â€œYes. Which means I’m not supposed to be here. Let me guess—you come in when I’m off to drool over Mark like all the other girls in town.
    â€œHardly. Things were super quiet at the store,” she said, “and I saw the light go on and thought a glass of red wine might be nice. Even the red wine you serve here.”
    â€œAlways nice to be appreciated,” he said.
    He went around the bar, poured her a glass of merlot, set it before her while she sat on one of the round stools. She swiveled around on it, checking out the otherwise empty, silent bar. He’d forgotten to plug the jukebox in, and it stood quiet in the corner, ignored. He noticed her look back at him, her expression filled with judgment.
    â€œPenny for your thoughts,” she offered.
    â€œWith tips like that, I think I need a new profession.”
    â€œYou do anyway, Brian,” Nora said. “You need a whole new life, in fact.”
    Okay, that cut deep, he thought. “So glad you came by.”
    â€œSorry. It’s just . . . well, Janey had other things to do today. But not you. You’re in a rut.”
    â€œYou want to explain that one?”
    â€œDo I really need to?” she asked, her green eyes wide open.
    â€œI could say the same for you.”
    â€œUh-uh, my issues are so last year. Travis and I came home to Linden Corners, even if it was the last place I wanted us to come to. But the transition has gone well enough—the business is fine, and Travis has adapted nicely to his new school. We’ve even managed to not put on any extra weight despite living with my mother.”
    â€œAnd you have a new relationship to boot,” Brian said.
    She drank deeper from her glass, the usual firewater he served in place of decent wine suddenly like top-shelf champagne. “I thought we were talking about your life, or lack thereof. Where’s Janey today anyway? Don’t you two usually spend the whole day together? I bet that big field of yours is littered with leaves.”
    â€œThe raking can wait,” he said, “since there’s no snow in the forecast again. Tomorrow’s supposed to be a high of fifty.”
    â€œHappy holidays,” Nora said with a raise of her glass.
    â€œAnyway, Janey is with Cynthia.”
    â€œNot surprising, considering all that’s going on with the