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and was about to introduce herself when the robust woman made a grunting sound, like “Ahem, yeaaaaahhhh,” and then turned to face Abby.
    Abby stopped dead in her tracks, thinking that the woman was ready to yell at her. She braced for the biting words to come.
    “Another rum punch, girl?”
    Abby smiled and showed her the elegant plastic cup she held in her hand.
    “Please.”
    The bartender eyed Abby like the drunk she was proving to be.
    “Be careful with dose. Dey can bite you in de ass.”
    Abby smiled politely but held fast. “I just want to be numb. Please, another drink.”
    “What you needin’ to numb, girl? No need.” She slid off the stool and went behind the bar to mix Abby another concoction. “For every bar on this island, there are two churches. Not many people know dat. It’s like we forgive the drinkin’ everyone does and we ask them to go to church. My boy,” she clutched a locket around her neck, “he loved the drink. He loved the church, too. Fitting he ran into a church when he was drunk and died instantly.”
    Abby was stunned. Her mouth dropped and she stared at the woman stirring the elixir.
    “I don’t know what to say. I’m really sorry that . . . ”
    The older woman laughed. No, she guffawed at Abby. “I’m sorry, girl. Don’t know why I decided to lie to you like that. I got a son, but he alive.”
    Wow, you really can’t make this up, Abby thought as she stared at the woman as if she had three heads.
    “Well, good then,” said Abby a little sarcastically. “Glad to hear it. I’m going to take my cocktail and go back to staring out over the water and drinking myself into the sand.” With that, Abby pinched a smile at the two other customers, raised her now-refilled cup to the woman and went to her table.
    “Girl!”
    Oh what now?
    “Yes?”
    The woman was still laughing as she came from around the bar and went up to Abby.
    “They call me Miss B. And no, that ‘B’ is not for bullshit. It’s for Benson. That was my husband’s name.”
    “Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Abby. Abby George. My sister owns La Cantina.”
    “Leigh?” Miss B. exclaimed. “You Leigh’s sister, all grown up, eh? Well!”
    “Yes, Miss B. I am . . . ”
    “Girl, things just changed for me and you. Now we gonna get along! My name is really Charlie, for Miss Charles, not Miss B. I mess with people. Usually ones I don’t know.” She smiled at Abby and patted her head. “You? I kind of know. You’re Leigh’s sister.”
    Abby stared intently at the woman, Miss C. or B. or whoever the hell she decided she was at the given moment. Abby wanted to ask her how well she knew Leigh, but as she opened her mouth she saw Miss Charles’ eyes light up; apparently there was something more interesting beyond Abby’s shoulder.
    “Ben Stenson! Oh, baby boy Ben! How are you doing tonight?” she practically sang to the sunset.
    Abby slowly sucked in a deep breath through her nose. Ben had arrived, bless his heart. She was fumbling with the rings on her fingers in her signature nervous fashion, glancing over at Ziggy working his pot-selling magic across the patio with some locals. He waved to her as he jumped a small wall next to the beach and walked off with the rugged dark-haired guy from the bar in tow, most likely to smoke some of his goods before the money was exchanged. What an entrepreneur, she thought.
    Abby could hear Ben and Miss Charles talking behind her. She was clucking like an old hen, and he was laughing with her and the dirty man that had been left behind by his friend at the bar. Cutthroat? Did he really just refer to the man sitting there as Captain Cutthroat? What is he . . . a pirate? Abby fought the urge to shake her head and laugh out loud, opting instead to turn around and meet her new roommate.
    Abby stood and watched the scene in front of her for a beat before interjecting. Ben was holding a Carib and toasting with this Captain Cutthroat person and Miss Charles was giggling