Mimi's Bar, Jane Halpern, Page 5

Mimi's bar opened the next day. The first customer was a secretary named Clarice from Marty's insurance office who had gotten off work early and seemed uneasy at being all alone, and over water, at four o'clock. Mimi tried to make conversation, but there was nothing she could say to a young woman who had driven three miles in a shiny silver Miata at four o'clock just to check out the new bar in town. She polished glasses and made change. "Come back again sometime," she called at Clarice's retreating back, but didn't expect anything of it.

The next customers came in a group of three, then a group of four. Fortunately, one of the people from the group of three recognized another from the group of four, and soon Mimi was dealing with a loud, happy and hungry bunch of seven. They were yuppies, all of them, the women in shapeless blue denim dresses with little darling buttons down the front and cream colored sweaters; the men in khakis and button-down shirts in forest green and cranberry stripes. Mimi fried shrimp and brought out dozens of green longnecks dangling between her fingers, the party lasted till eight, and the bill was huge. The group dug into their pockets and their purses and managed to come up with a reasonable splitting among them, and Mimi raked a pile of dimes, pennies, and five and ten dollar bills over the counter and into the cash drawer, grinning as widely as an Applebee's waitress living on tips. "Y'all come back now," she called as they left, waved to the women, and stood at the front door until she could no longer see them around the bend of the boardwalk. Then she went back inside.

It had been a truly masterful performance. She had smiled, joked and made small talk that did not nose into their conversation, but complemented it, adding local color and folksy wisdom. She had gamely responded to even their most nosy questions ("Aren't you worried living out here all by yourself?" "How does the plumbing work?"), and even come up with a little impromptu speech on the delights of living close to nature. She had referred to the business three times as a "grill" instead of a "bar" because people who order shrimp prefer to think they're eating at a "grill". She had laid the beers on their table with a cheer and gaiety rivaling the German beer maids portrayed on the bottle labels. She had even said "Y'all come back now", because she had read the women perfectly and saw their desperate need for someone to feel superior to and yet comforted by. As a final touch, she had watched them from the screen door as they left to give the impression she was altruistically "watching out for them" as they walked down that dangerous ol' boardwalk. She was glad she had made money, and probably gotten some permanent customers. But as she watched those people stumble, drunkenly giggling, towards land, she couldn't help wishing they would all fall into the drink and get eaten by alligators.

The next day was better. At ten a.m., Mimi wandered out of her bedroom yawning and brushing out her hair, only to stop short at the sight of another woman standing in the main room, looking around. The other woman had light brown hair straggling out in uneven, tangled ripples from under a large brown cowboy hat, and dark tanned skin on her arms, which were long and sinewy. She had a dead turkey hanging over her right shoulder from a string hooked on her index finger, and the feathers of the turkey's tail fanned out behind her like the decorations of a fancy dancer at a powwow. In her left hand there was a rifle, long and beautifully oiled, the stock resting against her side and the barrel pointed at the ground. She was dressed like Crocodile Dundee on his day off.

The woman finished turning around, taking in the walls, the ceiling, the jukebox and pool tables, and saw Mimi standing there in bathrobe and slippers with mouth slightly open.

"Oh," said the woman in a voice that was calm, quiet, and just a little bemused, "I didn't think anybody was here." She had high ginger eyebrows and a beautiful jawline.

Mimi regained her faculties of speech. "Um, yeah," she said. "It's just me."

"Oh, are you Mimi?" the woman said with a smile so subtle it made the Mona Lisa look goofy.

"Yes."

"Oh. I heard about you. I just thought I'd stop by and say hello."

"Would you like to sit down?" Mimi gestured at the line of stools.

"Yes." The woman shifted the turkey off her shoulder and lowered it to the floor, pausing and looking at Mimi. "You don't mind the bird in here, do you?" she asked. "I didn't want raccoons getting into it if I left it in the boat."

"No, of course not," said Mimi. "You live in the area?"

"I guess you could say that," the woman said, setting the bird down and leaning the rifle gently against the bar. "I'm about nineteen miles away. But we have a broad definition of 'area' around here."

"I see," said Mimi. "You know, I don't know your name."

"Karen," said the woman, stepping forward immediately and sticking her hand out on the long brown pole of her arm. "Karen Voorhies."

"Mimi Delacroix." They shook. Karen had the sort of handshake that one receives from a person sitting on the head of a temporarily downed steer - firm, friendly, authoritative, the shake of someone who knows what they're doing and will teach you the ropes, but only has one hand to offer you at the moment. Mimi liked her immensely.

"Can I offer you a drink? On the house," Mimi said, moving behind the bar.

"Sure," Karen said, nodding at the bottle Mimi held. She sat and Mimi poured.

"So, you've been turkey hunting?"

"Yep," Karen said. "Been out all night looking for raccoons, too, but haven't found any. I needed this." She made a little gesture in Mimi's direction with the glass, then drained it.

"You've been hunting raccoons... by yourself?"

"Yup. I used to go out with my dogs, but lately I go without them. I don't know why."

"Quieter," Mimi guessed.

"Yes, I suppose. And you don't have to be on dry land. You can go out to the islands and the trees where they roost for the night. Just you and the boat. Put that motor on trawl and the birds never even know that you're coming. Of course, I lack the beagle's sense of smell. So if I run across a coon or a possum, it's pretty much by accident."

Mimi refilled her glass. "Thank you. You run a nice place here."

"Well, I've only been running it for a day."

Karen looked at her. "Really?"

"Yes."

"I heard you built it yourself."

Mimi nodded.

"That's quite a job."

"Yes, it is."

They looked at each other for a moment with mutual respect.

"Look," Karen said. "I know you probably can't leave the bar tonight, what with this being the second night open and all, but how about you come by one of these nights later this week, and I'll make you dinner. Sort of in honor of a new resident of the swamp."

"That sounds great."

"Terrific. Now, I see you have a boat out there. You're going to need to use it, because my house is way out there and the closest way to it from here is by water..." and Karen drew a map on a paper napkin. Mimi pointed, asked a few questions, and they settled on next Tuesday. Karen asked how much she owed Mimi, and Mimi said no, they were both on the house.

"Well, okay," Karen said, slipping off the stool and rearranging the turkey over her shoulder. "I've got a lot of dogs to get home to. Mimi Delacroix, it was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Mimi said, reaching over the counter to shake Karen's hand again.

"See you Tuesday," Karen said, slipping out the door. Mimi heard the thump and thunk of her boots going down the porch stairs; the "vwishhh, vwishhh" of Karen's outboard motor cord being pulled twice; then the slight rumble of the motor, and she saw Karen troll by in the narrow vertical strip of light between the doorjamb and the edge of the heavy inner door which had swung nearly shut. A hissing trail of bubbles sifted through the water behind her, and she was gone.

Mimi went back to bed.

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