President Reaper's Old Lady

The padlock clanged softly against the old wooden door as Willow Harper fitted the key into it. For a moment, she didn't turn it. She simply stood there, one hand wrapped around the cold metal key, her eyes resting on the faded sign hanging above the entrance. HARPER'S TAVERN The gold paint had worn away over the years, but the letters still stood proudly against the dark wood. A slow breath escaped her lips. "Let's begin another day." The lock clicked open. She pulled it free, pushed the heavy door inward, and the familiar scent of aged wood, old whiskey, and furniture polish greeted her nostrils. It still felt strange. Three weeks. It's been three weeks since she had packed her life into the back of her old SUV and driven halfway across the country from South Carolina to Yellow Creek. Three weeks since she had become the owner of a tavern she had never imagined she'd inherit. Three weeks since her grandfather's funeral. Life really did know how to change without asking for permission. She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and reached for the broom resting against the wall. Dust gathered beneath its bristles as she swept across the wooden floor of the quiet tavern. She had come to enjoy these mornings. No music. No laughter. No glasses clinking together. Just silence. Silence made thinking easier. Not that thinking had been much help lately. Only a month ago, her biggest worry had been whether she could afford another month's rent back in South Carolina. Now… She owned a tavern. If someone had told her that six months ago, she would have laughed until her stomach hurt. Her father certainly would have. Although… That thought made her hand pause. Dad had never laughed much whenever Grandpa Harper's name came up. The two men had stopped understanding each other long before she was born. Her father had left Yellow Creek while he was still young. Started over in another state. Built a family. Built a life. He never came back. Grandpa had. Every year. No matter how busy he was. No matter how old he became. He always found his way to South Carolina. Sometimes for Christmas. Sometimes for her birthday. Sometimes for no reason other than to see his granddaughter. He never spoke badly about her father. Not once. He simply smiled. Hugged her. Spoiled her. Then left again. Now... He was gone too. The broom stopped moving. Willow blinked quickly before bending to gather the pile of dirt into a dustpan. "Not today," she whispered to herself. There would be time to cry later. There always was. She emptied the dirt into the trash bin before walking toward the entrance. Flipping the sign around, she smiled faintly as the words came into view. OPEN She still wasn't sure she knew what she was doing. Running a tavern wasn't exactly listed under the skills on her résumé. Still… She was trying. That had to count for something. The bell above the door jingled as two women stepped inside. "Morning, Willow!" Willow looked up with a smile already forming. "Morning, Meredith." Meredith's strawberry blonde hair bounced around her shoulders as she walked in. Her large blue eyes always reminded Willow of someone who noticed everything before anyone else did. Sometimes Willow joked to herself that Meredith could probably see the future with those eyes. "How'd you sleep?" Meredith asked. "Pretty well. You?" "Good." Willow's eyes shifted to the woman walking behind her. "Morning, Ava." Ava didn't even slow down. She walked past Willow as though the greeting hadn't existed. Without a word, she disappeared through the doorway leading toward the kitchen. Meredith sighed. "Don't let her get to you too much." Willow looked back at her. "She'll come around." Meredith offered a small smile. "She's taking Grandpa Harper's death really hard." "So am I." Willow whispered. Meredith's smile faded. "I know." For a second neither woman spoke. Then Meredith cleared her throat. "I should get started." "Of course." She hurried after Ava, leaving Willow standing alone again. Willow watched the swinging kitchen door settle back into place. That was her life now. Some of the staff welcomed her. Others barely tolerated her. Meredith always found reasons to excuse their behavior. Maybe she was right. Maybe everyone grieved differently. Or... Maybe some of them simply didn't think she belonged here. Either way... Bills still needed paying. Customers still expected drinks. Life refused to wait. **** The morning drifted by faster than Willow expected. As always… One moment she was wiping tables; the next time, she glanced at the clock and it was almost three p.m. "When did that happen?" she murmured. The quiet tavern had slowly transformed. The bell above the entrance barely stopped ringing. Laughter replaced silence. Pool balls cracked against one another. Country music floated from the speakers. Conversations blended together until they became one steady hum filling the room. Harper's Tavern had come alive. Willow stood behind the counter filling another glass. She slid it across the polished wood. "There you go." The man grinned. "You're generous with the whiskey." Willow laughed. "I've heard that's not exactly a bad thing." Joey chuckled. "Just like your granddaddy." She shrugged. "What can I say?" She leaned both hands on the counter. "Generosity runs in the family." Joey barked out a laugh. Another customer settled onto the stool beside him. She looked to be somewhere in her sixties, with kind eyes and silver hair tucked beneath a wide brimmed hat. She smiled warmly. "So you're Grandpa Harper's granddaughter." Willow nodded. "I am. Willow Harper. And you are?" "I've been hearing about you." "I'm hoping that's a good thing." The woman laughed. "You can call me Sandy." "Nice to meet you, Sandy." Sandy reached across the counter and squeezed Willow's hand. "I'm sorry for your loss, dear. I was visiting my daughter when everything happened. I couldn't get back in time for the funeral." Willow smiled gently. "Thank you. I appreciate that." Silence settled between them for a brief moment. Then Joey scratched his beard. "I've actually been wondering something." Willow looked at him. "Hm?" "You gonna let Reaper and the De’Vil MC family keep holding church here?" Her hand slowed around the glass she was drying. She frowned. "I'm sorry… Who's Reaper? And what church are you talking about?" Joey blinked. "Oh." Sandy slapped his arm. "Okay, you've had enough." "I've had only two." "That's more than enough." She climbed off the stool and steered him towards the door. "Come on." Joey pointed lazily toward Willow. "We'll talk another day. I ain't explaining biker business while half drunk." "Biker... what?" But Sandy was already steering him toward the exit. "Have a good afternoon, dear." "You too." The bell jingled and they disappeared outside. Willow stared after them. "Biker business?" She shook her head. "That was... strange." Just what exactly had her grandfather left to her. She placed the clean glass back on the shelf just as the old rotary phone behind the bar began to ring. She crossed the floor and picked it up on the fourth ring. "Harper's Tavern." "Miss Harper. This is Logan." Her shoulders eased as she heard his name. Logan had never given her a reason to worry. "Mr. Logan. I sent payment for this week's order last night—" "That's actually why I'm calling." His voice came out small. Thin. Nothing like the man who usually laughed before she finished saying hello. "I can't deliver this week." "Why not? I sent the full payment." There was a long pause. "I'm sorry, Miss Harper. I won't be delivering to you again." "What does that even mean? I already paid the deposit—" The line went dead. Willow pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it, like it might explain itself. No negotiation. No real apology. Just fear, thick enough to hear through a phone line, and then silence. Meredith appeared beside her. "Who was that?" "The liquor supplier just cancelled on us. Says he won't deliver again." "That's weird. Nothing like this ever happened when Grandpa Harper was alive." Willow didn't trust her voice enough to answer. She bent down, pulled open the drawer beneath the register, and lifted out her grandfather's old contact list. "I'll be in the office. I need to find someone else before we run dry." "I've got the bar," Meredith said, squeezing her arm as she passed. The office still smelled like her grandfather—old paper, faded pipe tobacco, a leather chair worn soft in the shape of a man she barely remembered without gray in his beard. She sat down and dialed the first number on the list. Voicemail. She tried the second one. Straight to voicemail too. She tried the third. It connected on the second ring. "Felix Liquors, how can I help you?" Relief loosened something in her chest. "Hi, this is Willow Harper, calling from Harper's Tav—" She heard a sharp click. Then dead air. "Hello?" The line hummed back at her, empty. That wasn't a bad connection. The second she'd said her name, the call had ended. She sat there a long moment, staring at the receiver, before setting it down. Three calls. Three dead ends. That wasn't luck anymore. By the time she walked back to the bar, her jaw ached from clenching it the whole way there. Meredith looked up. "Any luck?" "None. Nobody will even talk to me." Before Meredith could respond, the bell rang. A man in a gray polo shirt stepped inside, clipboard tucked under one arm, a laminated badge swinging from his neck. CITY HEALTH & SAFETY DIVISION. "Willow Harper?" Her stomach dropped. "That's me." "I'm here for an inspection." "I wasn't told anyone was coming today." "We don't announce visits in advance, ma'am." He moved past her before she'd finished speaking, clipboard already open. She followed him through the kitchen, watching a stranger run his fingers along shelves her grandfather had built with his own hands. He barely looked twice at anything until he reached the side exit. "Exit sign's not working." "It was working last night." She flipped the switch. Nothing. She stared at the dark sign, understanding dawning on her slow and cold. She unscrewed the cover. The bulb hadn't burned out. It had been loosened, just enough to break the connection. Not broken. Loosened, by someone who knew exactly how to make it look like an accident. She twisted it back into place. Light flooded the sign instantly. "See? It works fine." "Doesn't matter. Violation's already logged." "That's not fair, it was clearly tampered with—" "Ma'am, I don't make the rules." He said flatly. Almost bored. He tore a yellow slip from his pad, scheduled a follow up, and left without another word. Behind her, chairs scraped the floor. Two tabs settled in a hurry. Customers slipped out without meeting her eyes. By the time the door swung shut, the tavern had gone half empty and unnaturally quiet. Willow stood in the middle of the floor, the yellow slip trembling faintly in her hand. The cancelled supplier. The dead phone lines. Now this. Individually, she could have explained any one of them away. But together, they felt deliberate. Meredith came to stand beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. She didn't say anything at first. She just looked at Willow's face like she was seeing something there for the first time. Then she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her phone. Willow barely noticed. Her eyes were still fixed on the dark space above the side door, on the yellow slip curling slightly between her fingers. She didn't see what Meredith typed, or the name at the top of the screen. ‘Willow needs your help.’ Meredith's thumb hovered for half a second before she pressed send. Outside, somewhere past the edge of town, a low rumble rolled through the quiet afternoon. One engine. Then another. Then several more, growing louder, closer, rolling steadily toward Harper's Tavern like something had already been decided.