Saison for Love (Brewing Love)

by Meg Benjamin

  “Love you, too, kiddo.” Ruth turned quickly, before her daughter could see the tears in her eyes. She didn’t have time for emotion right then anyway. She still had to do the dishes.

  …

  Liam took a half-hearted swipe at the bar with his rag. The surface didn’t need polishing—it was gleaming. And there were no customers to mess it up. Also no customers to order drinks and drop money in the tip jar.

  He sighed, leaning his elbows on the bar as he checked the few occupied tables at the back of the room. Late lunch at the Black Mountain Tavern, after the afternoon thunderstorm had blown through. So far he’d poured a couple of beers and a glass of wine. The iced tea and water most of the patrons were drinking came from the kitchen and had nothing to do with him. The crowd got smaller every day. It was only a matter of time before Tim Stanton, who owned the tavern, decided they didn’t need to serve lunch at all.

  In reality, Liam wouldn’t be too upset when Stanton did that, except he could use the money for last-minute expenses. Getting rid of the lunch shift would give him time to finish up at the brewery. Black Mountain Tavern was headed downhill fast, but he most likely wouldn’t be around to see it bottom out.

  He had to admit, he’d miss the tavern. It was a comfortable place to drink, and he’d had some good conversations with the customers. But Stanton wasn’t paying much attention to the place, and it was beginning to show. He’d never put a lot of money into it, and it had begun to look a little threadbare.

  Too bad. Once upon a time it had been a classy bar.

  “You want some lunch?”

  Liam turned quickly. He hadn’t heard the kitchen door open. Peaches Guidry, the tavern cook, stood behind him with a plate of something or other. She was tiny and rounded, with curling blonde hair that frizzed around the edges of her white chef’s beanie. With her pink cheeks and golden skin, she looked a little like a peach herself.

  Peaches was one hell of a cook, although she didn’t get the salary she deserved. Stanton never liked spending money if he could avoid it.

  He took the plate from her hand. “What is it?”

  She shrugged. “Just a sandwich. Fig jam and manchego on grilled brioche bread. I was trying out a new recipe.”

  Peaches trying out a new recipe was always cause for rejoicing. Even when it didn’t work out exactly as planned, the food was delicious. He took a bite, closing his eyes as he evaluated. “Good. Really good. Salty and sweet. Definitely a winner. Going to put it on the menu?”

  Peaches shrugged again, sighing. “Mr. Stanton got a deal on the manchego a few weeks ago. We need to use it up before it goes bad. But doing this sandwich would mean buying more fig jam, and I don’t know if he’d be up for that.”

  Given Stanton’s long history of being penny-wise and dollar-foolish, Liam would bet she was right. “Couldn’t you just go ahead and do it? Tim’s not around much to make any decisions. You’re the head of the kitchen.”

  “He’s likely to notice if I do something like that. He does check the bills.” Peaches bit her lip. “Maybe I could try a different jam. Strawberry or apricot.”

  “Apricot would probably work. It’s got a similar vibe to fig. But what do I know—I’m just the beer guy.”

  She smiled. “I tried some of your wheat beer a couple of nights ago. You and your sister are doing good stuff. Of course, I know as much about beer as you do about jam.”

  “I doubt that. You’re a great cook, and great cooks can pick up on other flavors better than the rest of us mortals.”

  She sighed again. “Thanks. I haven’t heard that lately.”

  “Peaches, since you took over, that kitchen is a hundred percent better. Tim should be paying you twice your salary.”

  She shrugged. “I just wish I could make some pastries. I can’t do much baking with the setup he has back there, and I miss it. The commercial desserts he buys are pretty bad. But the bread supplier he’s using is great, so I guess that’s okay. At least the sandwiches are good.”

  “No cookies?” Liam raised an eyebrow.

  “Probably not. And no brownies or cake or pie. We don’t do breakfast, so there’s no use for cinnamon rolls here anyway.”

  Liam closed his eyes for a moment. “There’s always a use for cinnamon rolls, trust me.”

  “I need a green-chili cheeseburger and an order of onion rings.” One of the waitresses leaned against the bar.

  “Okay, coming right up.” Peaches turned back to him for a moment. “Go ahead and finish that sandwich. Let me know what you think.” She headed back through the kitchen door, a woman on a green-chili cheeseburger mission.

  Liam turned hopefully to the waitress. “Need anything from the bar?”

  She frowned as she entered the order into the computer. “Just iced tea.”

  Liam sighed. Iced tea. Who had iced tea with a green-chili cheeseburger? It almost went against nature. He had an excellent Mexican lager that would complement the burger and even stand up to the onion rings. Maybe he’d slide over to the table for a little conversation.

  Just as soon as he finished this amazing sandwich.

  Chapter Five

  A couple of days later, Liam began to consider a new Ruth strategy. He’d avoided the Salty Goat after his last attempt to get her to go out with him. But Bec’s comment about the goat cheese rankled. How had he managed this long without tasting the stuff his sister helped make? He definitely needed to have lunch there.

  You realize that’s just an excuse, right?

  He did. He wasn’t ready to give up on Ruth just yet. And tasting her cheese was at least a step in the right direction. Even if it did taste a little…gamey. The goat cheese dishes they served at the tavern weren’t all that terrific, even with Peaches doing the cooking.

  He was pretty sure Tim Stanton didn’t buy his goat cheese from the Salty Goat. If there was such a thing as cheap-ass goat cheese, Stanton probably used it.

  The Salty Goat was moderately busy, even though it was close to two in the afternoon when he showed up. Since this was one of the days Liam didn’t go to work until four, he had plenty of time. He found a seat at a café table at the side of the room. After a short wait, a waitress appeared at his elbow. “What can I get you?”

  “Is there a menu?”

  The waitress gestured toward a chalkboard on the wall. “That’s it.”

  He squinted. The burgers were out since they featured cheddar. Ruth didn’t make that. Several of the other sandwiches looked like they had goat cheese, but he wasn’t sure. “What do you recommend?”

  The waitress shrugged. “Everything’s okay. If you like cheese.”

  “Take the grilled tomato sandwich,” a voice to his left said. “It’s good. I’ll make it myself.”

  At first, he thought the voice might belong to Ruth, but it seemed a little high-pitched. He turned and saw Carol standing behind him with her hands on her hips.

  Do not annoy her daughter. She might tell her mom. “Okay. Sounds good. And a glass of iced tea.”

  The waitress made a note and departed. Carol headed over to the deli counter, then disappeared through a door that led to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure if there were any rules about children serving as cooks in restaurants, but there might be exceptions for the children of the owners. He knew lots of chefs who’d grown up cooking in their mothers’ and fathers’ kitchens.

  The waitress reappeared a few moments later with his iced tea then moved on to bigger tables that might provide bigger tips. Liam leaned back in his chair, wondering just how long the sandwich would take to make.

  Not long, as it turned out. Carol emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a plate in one hand. She set it in front of him, then dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the table.

  Liam narrowed his eyes. “Are you checking to see if I’ll like it?”

  Carol shrugged. “You’ll like it. Those are tomatoes from the farmer’s market. And my mom’s goat cheese is premium. The potato salad isn’t mu
ch, but we didn’t make that. Try a bite of the sandwich.”

  He frowned but picked up the sandwich, taking a quick taste. His taste buds were immediately assaulted by a variety of sensations—the sweet acid of the tomatoes, the crispness of the olive oil on the grilled bread, the faint fragrance of fresh basil, and beneath it all, the remarkable, slightly sour, slightly creamy taste of the goat cheese.

  All in all, it was one of the more extraordinary bites he’d ever had in his life. “Wow.”

  Carol nodded briskly. “Told you.”

  He took a couple more bites in quick succession, then paused. Was she going to sit and watch him eat his lunch? “Great sandwich. Thanks for the recommendation.” Now, please go away.

  Carol gave him a long look. “We need to talk.”

  “We do?” We don’t. If she didn’t want him pursuing her mother, he didn’t want to know about it.

  She nodded. “Do you want to date my mother?”

  Right. He took another bite. If this was going to turn into an interrogation, he at least wanted to finish the best thing he’d tasted for quite a while. “Why do you want to know?”

  Carol waved an impatient hand. “You do. I know you do. I can help.”

  Liam stared at her. That was pretty much the last thing he’d expected her to say. “Why?”

  “I’ve got my reasons. Do you want my help or not?”

  He paused to consider the question. He wasn’t having a whole lot of luck on his own. “Sure.”

  Carol nodded decisively. “Okay, good. I’ll be in touch.”

  Liam frowned. “What’s wrong with now?” If she was going to give him the key to attracting Ruth’s attention, he’d rather they got to it immediately.

  “I don’t want my mom to see me talking to you. It might make her suspicious.” Carol pushed up from the table. “I’ll find you later.” She headed back behind the counter, disappearing through the kitchen door once again.

  Liam shook his head. The whole experience with Carol had been somewhat surreal, sort of like Rumpelstiltskin suddenly popping up beside his table and disappearing in a puff of smoke. Then again, Carol wouldn’t have much use for his first-born child.

  He finished the sandwich, then licked his fingers, once again marveling at the complex interplay of flavors. He’d never tasted cheese like this before. He was pretty sure it was way beyond ordinary.

  The other door behind the counter opened and Ruth appeared, wearing the same outfit Bec wore when she made cheese—white overalls with a white beanie and hairnet. She carried a basket of cheese logs that were probably destined for the take-out cooler at the far end of the counter. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him.

  “Oh. Hello.”

  He nodded, giving her his most affable smile. Nothing to be concerned about here, ma’am. “Hi. You make great sandwiches.”

  Ruth looked a little flummoxed. He hoped it was the result of seeing him rather than the conversation. “Is that the grilled tomato?”

  He nodded. “Carol whipped it up for me. She said I’d like it. She was right.”

  “Carol?” Ruth frowned. “I didn’t know she was making sandwiches.”

  “She did a great job,” he said quickly. If the kid was going to be helping him, he intended to return the favor.

  “Good.” Ruth looked thoughtful, as if it hadn’t occurred to her that Carol could actually help out in the kitchen.

  “Bec told me to try your goat cheese. I hadn’t had the chance up until now. It’s excellent.”

  “Bec used to take some home with her. Didn’t you ever get a chance to try hers?”

  His affable smile curdled slightly. “Bec and I weren’t communicating much for a while.” Unless you counted screaming arguments as communication, which he didn’t.

  Ruth nodded. “Right. I remember.”

  “Anyway, this cheese is great. You ought to sell some to Tim Stanton. The stuff he’s using at the tavern is pretty bad.”

  Ruth grimaced. “Tim’s never been interested in buying from me. Unless I was willing to give him a steep discount, which I can’t afford to do. I’m selling to other restaurants in town but not Black Mountain Tavern.”

  “Tim’s never been good at being able to see beyond his immediate bottom line.” Liam popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. He might have licked the plate if Ruth hadn’t been standing there.

  Standing. “Please, join me.” He gestured toward the chair Carol had vacated. “Take a break.”

  Ruth glanced down at the basket of cheese in her arms, then gave him a rueful grin. “Thanks, but I can’t just now. I’ve got cheese working in the back and a ton of other stuff to do.”

  The door to the kitchen swung open and a large woman walked out. Liam didn’t think he’d ever seen her before. She wore an apron wrapped around her waist and a regulation hairnet over her hair. Her cheeks were pink from the heat of the stove, and her eyes were flashing. She had short order cook written all over her. She also looked like someone who was thoroughly pissed.

  Liam, who’d had lots of experience with short order cooks in his time, pissed and otherwise, leaned back in his chair, trying not to get in her way.

  “You didn’t tell me your daughter was going to be working in my kitchen.” The cook folded her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes at Ruth.

  Liam frowned. It wasn’t exactly the cook’s kitchen, seeing as how the deli belonged to Ruth, but cooks could be territorial.

  “Carol didn’t discuss it with me, but it’s all right for her to help out. You said you didn’t like doing the grilled tomato and goat cheese. That’s what she made.” Ruth sounded slightly harassed but stood by her guns.

  The cook’s eyes stayed narrow. “I don’t mind if you make those sandwiches, but I don’t want a kid getting in my way. It’s dangerous. I don’t like kids in my kitchen.”

  Ruth began to unload the goat cheese into the cooler, no longer looking at the cook. “Did Carol get in your way? She knows to do food prep at the side of the kitchen, well away from the stove.”

  The cook looked sour, as if she were beginning to understand that Ruth wasn’t going to accept her complaint at face value. “She had to grill the bread, didn’t she? That uses the flat top.”

  Ruth straightened, wiping her hands on a towel. “Were you using the flat top at the time?”

  “That’s not the point,” the cook snapped. “She could have gotten in my way. I won’t have it.”

  Ruth sighed. She looked exhausted. “I’ll talk to her. Maybe we can work something out.”

  “Nothing to work out. My kitchen, my rules. Nobody in there but adults.”

  Ruth opened her mouth as if she had something else to say, then closed it and nodded.

  The cook turned on her heel and stalked back through the kitchen door.

  Ruth turned back to him, shaking her head. “Sorry. Barbara Jean shouldn’t have done that in front of you.”

  He took a quick survey of the room and realized he was the only customer left. He shrugged. “It’s okay. She seems pretty salty.”

  “She’s not happy here. And it shows. I wish we had an alternative, but we don’t unless I start cooking, which is really all I need to make my life complete. I don’t even have time to look for a replacement, and there aren’t too many available cooks running around Antero at the moment.”

  She gave him another rueful smile. “Did you want anything else? We don’t have house-made desserts right now, but there are some packaged things.”

  He shook his head. “The sandwich was enough. It was great. Tell Carol I said so.”

  “I will. It may be her swan song as a sandwich maker.”

  On his way back down the street toward the tavern, he found himself wondering just how Carol planned on getting around her mother’s biggest problem. Because no matter how much he might like to get together with her, it didn’t look like Ruth had any time to spare, even for him.

  …

  The next morning, he worked for a co
uple of hours at the brewery. The grilled tomato and goat cheese sandwich was still on his mind. He wished he could grab another, but he wouldn’t have time before heading to work.

  “What kind of beer would you serve with Ruth’s cheese?” he mused.

  Bec glanced at him, frowning. “They don’t have a liquor license.”

  “I know. Indulge me. What kind of beer.”

  She paused, tapping her fingers against her chin. “Hard to say. Maybe a wheat or a pilsner.”

  “Sounds routine.” Ruth’s cheese deserved something equally extraordinary.

  “That’s just off the top of my head.” Bec narrowed her eyes. “When did you taste her cheese?”

  “I had lunch there yesterday. Carol fixed me a sandwich.”

  “Carol did?” Bec shook her head. “Usually Barbara Jean does the cooking, although I don’t think she likes goat cheese all that much.”

  Which raised the question of why exactly she was working in a deli that featured goat cheese, but Liam let it go. “Barbara Jean came out later and complained. She didn’t like sharing the kitchen.”

  “She probably doesn’t like the fact that even Carol’s a better cook than she is.” Bec shook her head. “She’s a freakin’ disaster, but she was the best Ruth could get after Honoria quit and moved to the big time.”

  “It sounds like Ruth’s doing some of the sandwich making.” He watched Bec take a quick pH reading on the mash tun. “On top of everything else she’s in charge of over there.”

  Bec shook her head, handing him the pH meter. “She’s going to run herself ragged doing that. Making cheese, making sandwiches, trying to ride herd on Carol, although Carol runs the cash register half the time, which is at least one less thing for Ruth to be in charge of. What do you think of this level?” She nodded toward the meter.

  Liam checked the numbers absently. “They look okay. Is it ready to transfer to the brew kettle?”

  “Not yet.” Bec recorded the numbers in her notebook. “Give it another hour or so.”

  Liam snapped his fingers. “Saison.”