I sat next to Sam at the bar, nursing my glass of tea reading over the quotes. I took a sip and set my glass down.

"Alright, well, who do you think is the best contractor to go with?"

Sam tapped the quote on the far left, his best pick of the three. This plumber was not the cheapest, but also not the most expensive. I had just enough left over from my Oklahoma check to cover it.

"He promised a quick turnaround and seems to specialize solely in renovation jobs," Sam explained. "He said he can replace the galvanized piping in both restrooms over two days."

Josie leaned against the bar, damp towel slung over her shoulder. "He seemed legit," she said with a nod.

"Fine," I said. "Go with him. Email the invoice to me, I'll make sure I have enough set aside."

Josie nodded with satisfaction and moved down the bar to serve. Sure. Sam's twoey girlfriend liked me when I was helping prop up the bar, hated me all other times.

"How's business up in Minden?" Sam asked, collecting up the quotes.

"Good, actually," I said with a smile. "The new grease trap will be put in on Sunday, the rest of the kitchen renovations will start the later in the week." And thank the Lord, I'd been able to completely pay out all the outstanding invoices. "And this is our third week trialing the Wednesday night promotion for the kids out at the community college. Happy hour and cheap beer for the rest of the night. So far so good, it's helped boost business all other nights, the college kids are starting to frequent more in general. Kennedy is trying to get a hold of a karaoke machine from her aunt."

"Ah, I have considered that here… but I feel like I do enough trying to keep a lid on some of the riff raff here, don't need to encourage them." He nodded toward Jason and Hoyt and some of the road crew over at their usual booth for lunch. Sam and I shared a smile, and I took my drink over to sidle in next to Jason.

"How's it goin', sis?" Jason asked, slinging his arm around my shoulder.

"Fine and dandy, thanks for asking."

"That's what I like to hear. You stickin' around for lunch?" Jason tried to noogie my hair and I ducked under his arm, managing to sock him in the side.

"Sure am."

"How's business, Sook?" Hoyt asked, popping an onion ring into his mouth.

"Great. But I'm just dying for some hometown gossip. I'm not here nearly enough. Y'all gotta fill me in."

"Tell her about your momma, Hoyt," Jason said, mouth full of fries.

Hoyt turned beet red and proceeded to explain how old Maxine Fortenberry mistook the local mechanic for making a pass at her in church and had proceeded to chew him out in front of everyone, but to her horror he had loudly announced he didn't even swing that way; and by the end of the story the three of us were out of breath with laughter.

The two of them caught me up on the rest of the hometown news; not a whole lot changes in Bon Temps but a whole lot sure seems to happen in the meantime.

I resisted the urge to pull in at the farmhouse on my way out of Bon Temps and continued on through Shreveport to Minden. I missed my big old creaky home, and my bed and the cotton bedding that had been washed so many times that it was buttery soft. My garden was probably looking outrageous by now.

But I had to get back to my bar. My bar. I still got a kick out of that. I pressed the gas a little harder. I was proud of myself for what I'd built. I'd felt so out of place after Sam and I broke up. I was cast aside again. Here was yet another man I couldn't rely on. I'd begun scouting for a new business at first as a distraction and then because I felt the draw to. I'd been building a little nest egg of savings from the monthly stipend I received from my fairy trust fund set up by Niall when he left Earth for good, so I had a deposit ready to go. I wanted to try my hand at paving my own way and it seemed no better time than the present. When I happened upon The Welcome Stranger, an old beat up dive bar that had gone to disrepair on the main street of Minden, I grabbed it for a steal and spent a good month scrubbing it and repainting it from top to bottom. I even sanded off the bar with a planer and re-varnished it so the oak stood out, bright and warm and glossy. The tall, gnarled tree that grew on the main street right out front of the bar cemented its new name: The Dogwood.

"Quiet afternoon?" I asked Kennedy as I stepped around behind the bar, tying the apron behind my waist.

"Pretty average," she said, not looking up from her crossword. "Betty's still complaining about the grill at lunch but I told her to cool her jets. Like you aren't already putting in a state of the art grill in next week. What does she expect?" She rolled her eyes.

I made a noise of agreement, Betty was a great fry cook but loved a good whinge. I hung up my keys and purse in my little office to the side of the bar and stopped past to say hello to old Keith who was parked in his usual spot below the flat screen. He was The Dogwood's version of Jane Bodehouse; though let me tell you, just about every bar has its own version of Jane Bodehouse. A requisite drunk who calls their bar stool their second home. And maybe their first, if they were being completely honest with themselves.

Business began picking up after five as people came in for their evening knock-off drinks, mostly white collar workers from the large investment firm up the road from us. I even caught Betty whistling to herself as she dished up baskets of fries and chicken wings.

A group of weres came in around nine, they weren't familiar though didn't seem like out of towners, they were in good spirits and nodded to me. Maybe they were from the Longtooth pack? One, a particularly good-looking redhead, flashed me a brilliant smile when I delivered a pitcher of beer to their table. Before I knew it, it was close to midnight and I was on my own, wiping down the benches and stacking the stools on top of tables ready for the cleaner in the morning.

I locked up, counted the till and trudged up the stairs to my little apartment. I dropped the keys into the little wooden bowl on the stand beside the door and headed straight for the shower.

Minutes later, I was showered, in a clean night gown and tucked up in bed. I managed to get through three quarters of a page of my romance novel before I had to set it down. I switched off the lamp and pulled my curtain a little to the side. The night was clear and I could see the familiar swatch of stars through my window. I wondered if I stayed here long enough, stared long enough, would I notice the movement of stars as they travelled across the night? If that would become familiar to me? I stared at the pinpricks of light until sleep pulled me under.

The next morning began with me meeting a delivery truck at the back of the bar and hauling in cases of beer, soon behind that was the food truck. Betty had appeared for this shipment, as she usually did, and was opening up boxes checking the quality of the produce before shifting it into the cool room. She took off with a wave and a cigarette between her lips, and I ate breakfast at my little laminate dinette in my apartment kitchen, catching up on the local news on my small TV and sipping a coffee. It was my only quiet moment for the day.

While the cleaner was in, I left to bank my takings from the previous day, met with the contractors for the kitchen and was then chained to the office while I wrote out the new roster and caught up on pay roll. I could hear Betty grousing and complaining from the kitchen during her morning prep, having to work around the guy who was fitting the new grease trap.

Lunch was busy, we had a lunchtime special for Wednesdays and Thursdays, mostly for office types. I was run off my feet, pulling beer and serving meals, chatting with customers. I was grateful for the patronage but also grateful that it was over before I knew it. Betty disappeared at 3 for her break and left me manning the bar with Alain, a community college student who I'd brought on a few months earlier, with freckles and a cow-lick he was constantly pressing down with the back of his hand.

Kennedy walked in a few minutes before five, all six feet of her, hair curled and makeup impeccable.

"Look at you," I said, as I passed a tray of beers over the bar to Alain. "Hot date tonight?"

"Better believe it, honey."

After stowing away her purse, Kennedy returned to the bar with a knowing smile. "Seems like your admirers are back." She nodded out to the table, where the weres from the previous night had returned. The redhead had greeted me with yet another brilliant smile when he'd entered the bar.

"I wouldn't say they're my admirers," I scoffed, though I felt my cheeks start to warm.

"That ginger has the hots for you, I can tell."

"I don't date my customers."

"Then who do you date?" Alain asked in a way that was far too familiar for my tastes, especially considering I'd only brought him on a handful of weeks ago. He was a college kid, and lacking a little common sense, though he worked fast during a rush.

"None of your business," I said with a snap. "Table four's waiting."

Alain nodded, chastened, and took the tray, leaving me and Kennedy to roll our eyes at each other.

"Lord help me, that kid's greener than a blade of grass," she said, pulling a tray of freshly washed beer glasses from the small inbuilt dishwasher under the bar.

I tossed her a clean dishrag and we began drying the glasses and putting them away.

"So why are you so dolled up?" I asked her.

"Danny's picking me up and we're going dancing in Shreveport tonight" she said, wiggling her hips for emphasis. "You should come along."

I smoothly side-stepped her hip bump.

"Not if I want to have any hope of opening up tomorrow on my own."

"Oh, give it a break. We all gotta live a little." She gestured a little too wildly with the dishrag and it caught the tip of a beer glass, sending it flying. My hand darted out and I snatched it from the air with unnatural speed.

One mouthful of Thalia's blood two weeks ago was still enough to supercharge me.

Kennedy's eyes widened with shock. I set the beer glass down with a thunk.

"I think I've lived plenty these past few weeks, thank you very much."

A couple walked into the bar and Kennedy left to greet and seat them, calling over her shoulder to me, "It's your loss."

I put away the last clean glass and took in my bar with a satisfied smile. It really wasn't my loss. The tables were filling up. One of the weres had loaded up the juke box with some terrible country tunes and the distinct spicy scent of Betty's buffalo chicken wings were floating from the kitchen.

This was me living my best life.

I put my heart and soul into this place. It hadn't been easy. Sleepless nights. Tears shed. Even going back on some promises I'd made to myself long ago. But maybe, just maybe, the sacrifices so far had been worth it.

Even the ones made at the expense of my own heart.

• •

I was lying in bed, watching my same patch of stars and waiting for sleep to come when the buzzer linked to the bar's delivery door sounded. I instinctively reached out with my mind, sweeping the area. One void.

I leaped out of bed and was down to the bar kitchen in record time, dressing gown on and rifle in hand. I pressed my back beside the door.

"Who is it?" I called.

"Avon calling."

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Pam." I unlatched the door and switched on the outside light. She stood, hand on hip, the light illuminating her golden hair like a perfect blonde halo. "You haven't heard of a phone?"

"Haven't you?" she said. She strolled in the door to the bar kitchen.

"No invite…?"

"You're a public establishment. Surely that's not a surprise for you. Why would I need an invite?"

"I just…" I firmly shut the door and latched the deadbolt and caught up to her. "I just never really considered that after the lights went out and the bar is closed it'd still be open season down here in the bar. That y'all wouldn't need an invite."

"I'm sure your apartment upstairs will keep those of an unsavory nature out."

I'd wanna damn well hope so.

She walked through the kitchen and into the bar. I turned on the lights above the bar and Pam seated herself across from me. Long gone was the Elvira-stripper get up she used to wear working the door at Fangtasia. Tonight she was dressed in an impeccably tailored black silk suit, with a red button up in the same material that left very little to the imagination in terms of her decolletage. Looks like she'd classed up her Fangtasia attire since taking on a greater role as sole owner and Area 5 Sheriff.

"So," I said with a smile. "What's your poison?"

She looked past my shoulder, brow rising in feigned interested. "Not sure cheap beer and top shelf will do the trick tonight."

I gestured to the glass-fronted fridge to my left. "I have a few blood blends."

I heated her a Tru Blood and showed her through the bar, then invited her up to my apartment. We sat on the sofa in my small living space.

"I'm impressed, Sookie," she said.

"Now who says a girl can't have it all?"

"Well, you certainly have… some."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me how you have it all?"

"Oh, I have more than you could dream of." Her smile transformed into a leer that revealed her shiny, white teeth and I couldn't help laugh.

"And you're not gonna get in trouble from the big bad King, that you're hanging out with me?"

"How will he know? He's hands off at best. Rasul rarely visits."

"Rasul?"

"He's the regent now."

"That works out well. For you and me." We smiled at one another. I was so glad she'd finally reached out.

I retrieved the emerald earrings from my small safe in my bedroom and gave them back to Pam. She opened the box and smiled at them a little wistfully before snapping the velvet box shut.

"Thank you for the dress." I said.

"Wish I could've been there."

"Me too. Then maybe you could've run interference for me all night."

"You certainly caused a stir."

I rolled my eyes. "I know how y'all love to gossip. Consider my hijinks a humanitarian service to y'all."

She laughed delightedly. "That's one way to put it. Freyda's party will keep the rumor mill churning for at least a year. A human slapping royalty! Of course it had to be Sookie Stackhouse."

"Not just a pretty face. Or half face, according to some, apparently."

"Sounds like you've been talking to Blair," Pam said with amusement.

"So what if I have?" I sank back into my corner of the couch, crossing my arms.

"I wouldn't bother putting too much stock in whatever that uppity bitch told you."

"She did help make me look like a million bucks."

"And you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Now, how's your hand?"

I flexed the fingers and splayed them. "Fine, now."

"Miraculous recovery...?"

I narrowed my eyes at her.

"I have a nose, Sookie. Are you Thalia's now?"

"Oh cheese and rice, is this the real reason for your visit? To pump me for details?" I rearranged my healed fingers so the middle one was on display in all its glory.

Pam let out out another peal of laughter and stood, walking the room and pausing to examine the photos I had on display on my book shelf. "I think she's rather taken with you," she said offhandedly.

"I can't imagine that being even remotely true."

"Believe it, doll face," she said smirking over her should to me. "When I asked how the trip was she said you were far more obstreperous than she expected."

"What? That hardly seems like a glowing report." I wasn't even sure I knew the exact meaning of the word (I'd remember if it was on my Word of the Day calendar), but from context I gathered it wasn't great.

"She also said she wouldn't decline another assignment with you, if required."

"Huh." I let out a little puff of surprise. I wondered if Thalia had thawed to me some… or maybe it was my part-fae blood. Whatever, better to leave the mystery for another day, or maybe just never. I had my fill of trying to pick apart vampire motivations.

Pam stayed for a second drink, and kept me amused with the sillier customer anecdotes from Fangtasia. I was grateful for my fairly sedate clientele at The Dogwood. Although, it felt like I was busting my butt 90% of the time just trying to build a solid customer base, whereas Fangtasia had no worries attracting willing and cashed-up patrons.

Pam and I made arrangements for a girl's night on the Monday. She begged me to take her to a shooting range, and honestly, I'd been promising her for years and years. I couldn't say no. I agreed on the caveat we'd get some dinner on the way. It was the closest thing I'd had to a date in over a year and a half. Girl's date or not, I was already looking forward to it.

"Probably not the kind of thing you want leave lying around," Pam said, crouching to pick up a book of matches dropped on the doorstep just outside the backdoor of the bar's kitchen. I'd walked her downstairs to say goodbye.

"That's odd. Betty must've dropped them today."

Pam sniffed the matches and wrinkled her nose before handing them over to me. "Is Betty two-natured?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that explains the stink," Pam continued, with clear distaste and wiped her hands. I nodded and turned the match book over in my hand. They were a generic brand I'd seen at Walmart. We said good night, and I locked up. I trudged back upstairs yawning and only managed to brush my teeth and wash my face again before crashing into bed. I fell asleep smiling.