"Well, I guess I'm heading out now." Savannah slowly tugged on her cardigan -it was somewhat surprising that she didn't need something a little heavier, given that it was usually colder in Haye by mid-autumn, but she definitely wouldn't complain- and grabbed her keys from one of the hook by the front door. Above the hooks was a faded needlepoint that read, "Bless this house." It had hung there for as long as she could remember.

"Yup, I'm about to head out to work! My first day at a new job..." Making no move towards the door, Savannah kept her place in the middle of the foyer, absently pulling her hair into a high ponytail.

"Yeah, we heard you! Hope it goes well. Tell them Parr boys I said hello. Miss seein' 'em 'round the farm." Her grandfather said from his recliner in the living room. Curled up at his side, in an adult-sized gray T-shirt that fit her like a dress, was little Maggie. Her gaze was fixed pointedly on the television.

"Just gonna go-" Savannah started, once again not moving.

"Get on if you're goin', girl!" Martin snapped. He wasn't angry, but Magnolia and Savannah had been at it for half an hour -ever since the latter had started getting ready for work- and his favorite show was on.

Savannah had known that she would break before her daughter, but she didn't like it. "Magnolia, can I [i]please[/i] have a hug before I leave for work?"

Silence, save for the drone of the TV. [i]American Pickers,[/i] if she remembered correctly. Maggie surely wasn't half as interested in watching two men haggle over antique soda machines as Martin, but damned if she wasn't watching just as raptly. What she was really interested in, of course, was ignoring her mother. Ever since she realized that Savannah wouldn't be around at bedtime anymore, she'd been giving her the silent treatment. 

The whole point of taking the evening/night shifts had been so that they could spend more time together. Savannah had thought that the hour lost before bedtime would be worth it, all things considered, but her daughter seemed to disagree. There was no winning in this situation, it seemed. Maggie as unresponsive as ever and the clock on the wall ticking closer and closer to six o'clock, Savannah gave up. She walked over and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her daughter's head. Maggie only frowned and clung harder to Martin in response.

"I love you, sweetheart. I'll see you when you wake up."

Savannah's thoughts were still heavy when she climbed into her grandfather's pickup. She hadn't had need for a vehicle in the City and, given that he didn't do much driving anymore, Martin was glad to let her use his own. The old Ford roared to life, and she put it in reverse, turned the car, and started down the long dirt driveway.

The Cambell Family Farm was only ten minutes or so outside of Haye proper, so it was a relatively short drive to the Water of Life. Though Savannah had never been as a customer, since it had sprung up after she left town, she knew the way from having dropped by to do an informal interview the morning for. She'd been pleasantly surprised by how quickly the hiring process had gone. But then, John had made it sound like they were strapped for help. Not a lot of people willing to work later shifts, with the recent disturbances around town. They were scared. Of the Emergent; of her, even if they didn't know it.

No use dwelling on it. At least it meant getting nighttime hours, and spending the day with Maggie.

When she arrived, she parked around back, as John had instructed, and felt an unexpected rush of nerves as she got out of the car. In the week or so that she'd been back, this was only the third time that she'd actually gone in to town. The first had been to get groceries, and the second to do her interview. Each time she'd felt a similar nervousness. They lived in a small, religious town, after all, and she was back with her child born out of wedlock. Few people would say anything to her face. That simply wasn't how things were done. But the idea of being judged at all by the people she'd known and, in many cases, cared about and respected, growing up, unnerved her. She always [i]had[/i] been a people-pleaser.

Before going in, Savannah pulled out her phone to check the time; five fifty. Even with her lingering around, she was still early, as she'd planned to be. She went in through the back entrance, and found herself in a narrow hallway. Towards the end was a door into John's office, where she'd had her interview. Next to the door, there was a row of hooks with names above them. Now, unlike before, one of those names was her own. An apron hung from her hook, and she took it and replaced it with her cardigan. She tied the apron around her waist, and took a critical look at her own outfit; a white button-up blouse, jeans, now protected by the apron, and black flats. Appropriate enough for work just about anywhere in Haye, she imagined. 

Another door in the hall lead out next to the physical bar, into the front of the business. There weren't many people inside. One sipping a beer at the bar, a couple playing pool, and a few young men at a booth talking loudly over baskets of wings. A slow night, or the norm, she wondered? It took a second for Savannah to recognize the bartender, who hadn't been bald the last time she'd seen him. 

She'd known Brian Parr since they were kids, even if she'd never have described them as friends. But she'd always seen him around. When groups of kids went to the watering hole to swim in the summers, to go play in the woods, or got together for someone's birthday, she ran into him as often as anyone else. Then, after she became a cheerleader in high school, she'd see him on the bus to away games, or when the two teams would go out to eat and celebrate a big win. She heard that he'd gone off to college after graduating, so she'd been surprised to find him back in Haye, and as a bartender, at that. But she was the last one to be making judgement in that vein.

"Brian," She greeted him with a smile, unsure of what else to say. Meetings like this were always a bit awkward to her; they'd been more than acquaintances, a relationship that deserved some sort of acknowledgement, but, again, hardly friends. She settled for what she hoped was a warm, "It's nice to see you! I don't know if you heard from John, but I'm your new waitress. How've you been?"