The farm not being ready yet (which, what was that even, yeah?) sounded like a story to sniff out, but he had a drink in hand and the night was young. Especially when the new barkeep was suggesting an upgrade.
He took another sip when Eddie did, broad smile beaming. “Attaboy, Eddie. You know the Valley does its own spirits, yeah?” A nod at the shelves behind the other man. “Every one of them bottles comes from a household here, and not one of them exactly the same as the other.”
(Maybe the Sinnerman could make an appearance at the next stock-up. Maybe sooner.)
“And in terms of who’s worth knowing, well, lessee.” Fingers went up. “There’s Ruthie Salenger, didn’tcha already meet her? She was also up at the Kuipers with us several months back. A real looker, and better yet? A real talker. She’ll have sussed out what’s what by now.”
Another finger went down. “Then there’s good old Auntie Sherry – can’t miss her, pint-sized ball of energy with bottle-cap glasses that can stare into your future, and I’m only half-joking about that last bit.”
The stories started flowing when the drinks did, and this, this felt like a warm-up act. A prelude to the crowds that were sure to be coming in, the eager listeners ready to have their socks charmed off.
“Surprised you haven’t already met her, actually. Her and Uncle Gabe are like a one-couple vaudeville show and welcome wagon all in one. Just… be careful about accepting any pamphlets, yeah? You start taking one and Uncle Gabe will come around with the full library of ‘em, and then one day, bam!”
His hand hit the sturdy bar top for emphasis even as he leaned closer.
“You’ll find you’ve joined a local coven without even realizing it, and then, boy, then you’re in for it.”
He was halfway to finishing his remaining pint when it occurred to him, “Hey. Hey, you’re living with the Madame herself, is that right?”
Eddie caught on to an inkling of a thought about a mysterious liquor, but like most things with Jimmie, it came and went just as fast as conversation topics.
He leaned on the bar counter and switched to the gin cocktail while he listened. Ruthie, yeah, he’d certainly met her, and hadn’t made a very good impression. His expression soured at the mention and he quickly scoffed it off, and Jimmie was already on to the next person of interest.
“Oh, is joining a local coven... a bad thing, would you say?” Eddie had very few people he could trust to ask any questions. His so-called ‘family’ was no help with dear cousin Sallie guarding the place. Jimmie was the closest thing he had to a friend, and even then, he could never be sure.
What Eddie did know is that he’d seen some crazy things. The glowing ‘map box’, the strange third floor of Fall’s Inn, the nighttime funeral for Hartmut Wolgemuth. No one seemed fazed by any of it.
Beneath his shirt, his amulet warmed against his skin.
“Madame Lange, yeah, she’s...” Eddie lifted a brow, shook his head. “Swell, real swell. I stay outta her way and avoid any trouble. Say, you ever done that, that tea thing with her?”
