Saison for Love (Brewing Love)

by Meg Benjamin

  “I don’t know if you remember me—Liam Dempsey. We met at Beer Fest last month. I’m the one with the job at Provo Canyon Lodge in Park City.”

  Magruder narrowed his eyes. “Dempsey. Antero Brewing, right?”

  Liam nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve been talking to your sister about buying some red ale, but I haven’t made any decision yet.” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Right. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about my new job.” Liam tried a smile, but it didn’t amount to much. “I need to know when the hotel is opening. I just found out I’m going to be available earlier than I thought.”

  Magruder frowned slightly. “You’re the bartender at Black Mountain, right?”

  Liam nodded, his partial smile fading to nothing. “Yeah. At the moment.”

  “Stanton’s really closing the place down?”

  “On Saturday.”

  Magruder shook his head. “Too bad. That used to be a good bar—the beer list was outstanding. Was that your doing?”

  Liam shrugged. “Some of it. I kept Stanton up to date.” Until Stanton had decided it was more important to save a few pennies than to have an outstanding beer list.

  “You’re looking to move to Park City ahead of schedule. Not work at the brewery?”

  “I’ll still be at the brewery until I leave, but I’m ready to head for Utah.”

  “Right. Well, let me check. They might be ready for you now.” Magruder began clicking around on his computer.

  Now? Immediately? Liam managed to keep his expression bland. “Thanks.”

  “It’s at the Slalom Cafe, right?” Magruder shook his head, as he consulted something on his monitor. “It’s still going to be a few weeks until they open, but if I were you, I’d head there now. You’ll need to find a place to live, and you probably won’t be able to find anything in town you can afford. Take some extra time to look around the area.”

  Park City, Utah. A day’s drive away. More in the winter. But you knew that when you took the job. “What’s the rental market like there?”

  Magruder shrugged. “Expensive, like most resort towns. You can make good money, though. Some of the guys I know there clear around forty or fifty thousand a year when you figure in tips, which means you can afford a decent place. But rents can run three to four thousand a month, if you stay in town. Lots of people share.”

  Forty or fifty thousand was more than he was making now. But he wouldn’t find anything like the place where he lived now, and he’d be on the other side of the mountains. Might as well be the other side of the moon. He managed a slightly tense smile. “It’s a big move. I guess I’ll need some time to get set up.”

  Magruder nodded. “Better get going ASAP. They’re in the final stages at Provo Canyon. And once they open, you won’t have much time to find a place.”

  “Right. I’ll get on that. Thanks for the information.” Liam gave him a smile that was more like a lip flex. “I’ll call the management in Park City.”

  “Yeah, do that.” Magruder gave him a terse nod, then turned back to his computer.

  Liam walked back to the street in a sort of daze. He’d already known about the salary, and the housing shortage was no surprise. The money was good. And there was nothing here for him right now. Bec didn’t need him. She hadn’t for a while. She had Wyatt, and she could pick up some part-time help. Liam could keep up with her by phone and text. Maybe when the brewery business expanded, he’d come back.

  Even if it took a couple of years. Or longer.

  He gazed around Main Street, down the vista to Black Mountain, with its cap of cumulus clouds. It was his hometown. He liked it here. Or he had in the past.

  Will you like it if you’re camping out at the brewery because you can’t afford your rent? Not so much. And he was tired of dead-end jobs.

  It’s what you wanted. Or what you wanted once. A new start. Doing something that doesn’t feel like spinning your wheels. You were excited about it once. But he hadn’t been that excited for a while. Not for the past couple of weeks, anyway.

  A day’s drive away from Ruth. And that was the crux of it. The thing that was causing that ache around his heart. If he left, he’d probably never be able to get her back.

  Maybe she didn’t want him back. Their fight could be a sign that they weren’t such a perfect couple. If that were true, going to Park City wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

  Maybe the worst thing had already happened. If he’d already begun to lose Ruth for good.

  …

  Ruth managed to make a lot of cheese the next day. Partly because she was hiding in the cheese room, trying to keep a low profile.

  Brett was sympathetic when he brought the milk around. “Want me to punch him for you? Actually, Ginger’s got a better punch than I do, and she’d probably be glad to do it if you asked.”

  Ruth sighed. “Thanks, but no. I’ll save violence for later.” And she’d probably administer it herself, given how much she’d like to slap David right now.

  She was afraid he’d be late picking up Carol. She’d started playing her new Xbox games at five thirty, and kept surreptitiously checking the clock. Ruth swore that if David didn’t show up at six sharp, she’d lock the door and pull down the shades.

  But for once, he was on time. After she’d let him in, he glanced at her, then centered his attention on Carol. “Ready to go?”

  “Sure.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a burger place in Barrington I thought we could try.”

  Ruth bit her lip. Barrington was a thirty-minute drive. “Carol needs to be home by eight. She’s got to work tomorrow.”

  “Work?” David raised his eyebrows. “Since when does a twelve-year-old have a job?”

  “I work at the deli,” Carol cut in. “I run the counter at least three days a week. Mom pays me.” She glanced back and forth between her parents, trying to figure out what the problem was. “I like it. I was saving my money for a new PlayStation.”

  David narrowed his eyes, as if he was trying to decide just how much he objected to this new information. Ruth tried to examine the whole thing from his perspective, but for the life of her she couldn’t see how it was any kind of problem. Kids worked in their family restaurants all the time. She knew at least three places in Antero besides the Salty Goat where that was going on.

  “All right,” he said finally. “We’ll grab some food here. I hear there’s a Greek place.”

  Ruth nodded. “Selig’s. Carol knows it. She can show you the way.”

  “Come on,” Carol said, heading for the door. “If there’s enough time when we get back, we can play some games.” She cast a slightly wary glance at her mother, and then she was through the door. “Oh, wow,” Ruth heard her say. “Is that your car?”

  She sighed. Of course, David would have rented an impressive car. But then just about anything would be more impressive than Ruth’s aged Toyota.

  She microwaved a frozen dinner for herself and sat down to spend the evening with some Anthony Bourdain and a glass of wine.

  Around nine, car doors slammed outside. Carol came through the door first, and Ruth tried to read her expression. She looked annoyed, which wasn’t at all what Ruth would have predicted.

  David stepped in behind her, with that same infuriating smirk. Although he seemed a little tense around the eyes.

  Ruth managed a smile. “Nice dinner?”

  “Decent. Better Greek than I expected for small-town Colorado.” He turned a quick look toward Carol, but she avoided his eyes.

  Ruth kept her determined smile in place. “Okay, kiddo, it’s time for you to get ready for bed.”

  Carol’s face flushed. “But it’s early.”

  Ruth shook her head. “Nope. It’s after nine, and tomorrow’s a work day. You can read for a while if you want to. Say good night to your father. I’ll come up with you.” And try to find out what’s bugging you. Which was her main reaso
n for sending her daughter to bed early.

  Carol turned toward David with a bright, artificial smile. “Night, Dad.”

  “Night, munchkin.” He glanced at Ruth. “I’ll stick around. I need to talk to you.”

  Terrific. She put her hand on Carol’s shoulder, guiding her up the stairs.

  Ruth let Carol change into her pajamas and brush her teeth before she sat down on the edge of her bed. “What’s wrong, kiddo? Didn’t you like your dinner?”

  Carol didn’t look up from her book. “It was fine.”

  She really needed to work on her delivery. “No, it wasn’t. What’s the matter?”

  Carol sighed. “Dad had a phone call. He talked for a long time.”

  Ruth wished she could jump on that, but she couldn’t. “Sometimes business calls come at the wrong time. I’m sure he didn’t mean to interrupt dinner.”

  “And then he talked to Brianna.” Carol narrowed her eyes. “A lot.”

  Well, damn. Brianna was a waitress at Selig’s. She was also what passed for a femme fatale in Antero, a statuesque brunette. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Carol shrugged. “It’s okay. I watched the Rockies game they had on in the bar. And Dad stopped talking to Brianna after a while.”

  “Good. I’m glad you had something to do.” She leaned down and kissed Carol’s forehead. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

  “I won’t.”

  Ruth took a deep breath and headed back down stairs. She would not yell at him. At least not at first.

  David sat on the floor in the living room playing something on the Xbox. He glanced up as she entered the room, then pushed himself to his feet. “Hey, so we need to talk about California.”

  “Really?” Ruth raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have a whole lot to say about it.”

  David folded his arms across his chest. “Are you going to be a bitch about this?”

  “About what? About sending my daughter off to California without knowing where the hell she’s going to stay or what the hell she’s going to do?”

  David’s face flushed. “What are you talking about? She’s going to stay with me, and I’ve already told you she’ll go shopping. Or to the museum or the tar pits. Or maybe Disneyland.”

  “Are you going to take time off to be with her?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Some. I’ve already taken a lot of time off to be here.”

  Where you spent a total of three evenings with her. “Who’s going to look after her when you’re not around? She’s only twelve, David. You can’t leave her on her own.”

  “I know that.” His jaw tightened. “I can have my PA, Jessica, take her around.”

  “Your PA.” Ruth gathered her hands into fists at her sides. “I don’t know your PA. I have no idea if she’s capable of looking after Carol. She’s not a nanny. She’s your girlfriend.”

  “No, she’s not,” David snapped. “She just graduated from film school. She’s a great kid.”

  “Which doesn’t mean she’s someone who can take care of Carol. Damn it, David. You haven’t even thought about this. Except for how much you want to make me do what you want.”

  “You think that’s what this is about? You think I’m just screwing around with you?” He leaned forward, crowding her. “Why don’t we talk about what’s really going on, Ruth? About how scared you are that Carol might actually like it in California. About how she might want to live there with me. She doesn’t have to go on living here in Buttcrack, Colorado. She might want to try the big time.”

  Ruth fought down the chill that spread across her skin. “No, she won’t. She lives here.”

  “Oh, yeah, she lives here. With her mother who won’t let her do anything, who’s afraid of letting her go, of letting her find out for herself how she wants to live, who makes her work in a goddamn delicatessen. Jesus Christ, you bought her a chain-mail glove. That’s all she was talking about, a fucking chain-mail glove. Who the fuck gives their daughter something like that? No wonder she looks like something out of Stranger Things. You’re afraid she’ll turn into a real girl and show you up.”

  For a wild moment, Ruth thought about hitting him. She thought about how satisfying it would be to just throw a punch. But it wouldn’t solve anything. And it wasn’t what she really wanted.

  I want him gone.

  “Get out of my house,” she said. “Now.”

  David took a breath, as if he had another parting shot. But then he turned on his heel and stalked toward the front door. He paused, turning back. “This isn’t over. She’s coming to California with me, whether you like it or not. And if she wants to stay, it’s okay with me.”

  Ruth folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself tight. As far as she was concerned the conversation was more than over.

  David pulled the door shut behind him, slamming it solidly. She stood staring after him, trying to get everything back under control—her breathing, her pulse, her life.

  “Mom?”

  She hadn’t heard Carol until then. She stood just at the top of the stairs, her eyes wide.

  “It’s all right. It sounded bad, but it’s all right. Don’t worry.” Ruth was lying through her teeth, and they both knew it. But neither of them wanted to hear the truth right then. She climbed halfway up the stairs.

  Carol dropped down on the top step, leaning her head against the wall. She suddenly looked even younger than twelve. “I didn’t mean to talk too much about the chain mail. I just wanted him to know about it. Is there something wrong with me? Do I look strange? Why did he say that?”

  “He was talking about a TV show. He didn’t mean you look strange. You don’t look strange at all.” Ruth sat down beside her and rubbed her hand up and down Carol’s back. “There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. Nothing.”

  “I still want to go to California,” Carol said slowly. “But not if he thinks I’m weird. I don’t want him to think I’m weird.”

  If Ruth hadn’t been on the verge of tears before, this would have brought her there. “You’re not weird, sweetheart. Not even a little. Or if you are, so are all the rest of us—me, Bec, Peaches. We’re all weird. All of us.”

  “I guess that’s true. Everybody’s kind of weird. Even Dad.” Carol licked her lips, staring down at her feet.

  Ruth stroked a hand over her hair. “You’re right. We are. He is. And he shouldn’t have said that. But he was mad at me, not at you. He didn’t know you were listening.” Which doesn’t let him off the hook, but we’ll let it go for now.

  “Okay.” Carol glanced up at her. “Can I go to bed now?”

  “It’s only nine thirty.” Amazing, but true. The fight had taken less than thirty minutes.

  “I don’t care. I’m tired.”

  “Sure. You can go to bed whenever you feel like it.”

  Carol pushed herself to her feet, then she paused, turning back to throw her arms around Ruth’s neck and kiss her cheek.

  Ruth listened to her walk down the hall to her room as she finally let the tears come. Damn you, David. God damn you to hell. She’d eat ground glass before she’d send her child to California with somebody like David Mobley.

  …

  Liam stood on the darkened brewery floor. He’d come over to find Bec so that he could tell her that he was leaving sooner than expected. Now it looked like she’d taken off somewhere with Wyatt. The brewery was empty, except for him.

  He thought about turning on a light, but didn’t. He knew the room by now. The brew kettle was full of red ale, a run he’d helped Bec set up yesterday. The wheat beer was in the aging tank. All their hits, getting ready for the bottling line.

  All Bec’s hits, really. He didn’t have much to do with them. But I helped. I did something.

  He headed toward the other side of the room, making his way by the moonlight that shone through the high windows. His small brewing system rested against the far wall. Out of the way, probably far from Bec’s thoughts.

  Not far from his own thoug
hts, though.

  The saison was still aging. He hadn’t tried it yet. Once upon a time, he’d planned on trying it with Ruth, but now he was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen. Or sort of sure. He wasn’t ready to give up entirely yet.

  I don’t want to give up on us. Not until I don’t have any choice.

  Working more on impulse than anything else, he grabbed a length of plastic tubing and a beaker from the work table at the side. At least he could have a quick taste. And if it didn’t work out, it didn’t work out. The way things had been going lately, the chances of the saison being good were probably infinitesimal.

  He siphoned off a small measure in the beaker, then started to bring it to his lips.

  And stopped. What if it does work out?

  He blew out a quick breath. In reality, he hadn’t considered that possibility. He’d been poised for failure.

  What if it does? Only one way to find out.

  He lifted the beaker and took a sip. And tasted basil and the crisp tang of citrus, along with the restrained bite of hops and mellowing of malt. He paused, savoring, then took another sip. And another.

  Holy crap. I made good beer.

  He had. In fact, he’d made damn good beer.

  He reached behind him and clicked on one of the work lights, then held the beaker up to study it. Good color—deep gold with a faint cloudiness that was natural. No way to judge the head with such a small sample, but the carbonation tasted right.

  Hot damn. That is one fuckin’ fine saison.

  And why shouldn’t it be? He was a beer maker, a beer lover, a beer connoisseur. And he was part owner of one fuckin’ fine brewery. All of a sudden he felt it again, that rush of pleasure that came from knowing he was part of Antero, part of something good. Something outstanding, in fact.

  Not just Bec’s assistant. A brewer in his own right. Maybe he wasn’t in her class, but he wasn’t a drone, either. He was part of what happened here.

  You can’t be part of what happens here from Park City.

  He closed his eyes. That was absolutely true.

  Which means you can’t take the job.

  Also true. A sudden wave of warmth spread from his chest to his toes.