Love on Tap

by Karis Walsh

  Tace watched Berit walk away with an open mouth—she wasn’t sure whether it was because she was shocked by Berit’s words or because she wanted to call her back. She stayed silent and closed her mouth. She wasn’t making excuses before she even failed. She was being realistic, given her lack of experience and schooling. She wasn’t used to making choices or living for herself because she always had to take care of…

  Two adults who were perfectly capable of making their own mistakes and earning their own achievements.

  Tace felt the hot pressure of tears in her eyes. How long she’d spent expecting so little. And when she finally held passion in her hands, she’d looked for any reason to let it go.

  Did she mean Berit or the brewery? She wasn’t sure. She bent her knees and hugged them tightly to her chest. If she listened to Berit—and she’d moments before told her she was the only one speaking for Tace—then she had to admit how much she wanted to succeed. She wanted to see her beer winning contests and in bottles on store shelves. She wanted to make enough money to travel and see the world. Visit Berit wherever she went next.

  Tace rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans. Could she admit she wanted those things and then try wholeheartedly to get them? Without whining about her lack of a degree or how mean the college bullies had been? Or about how hard it had been to be a parent when she was still a child? Because she could go get a damned degree now if she wanted one. And she wouldn’t trade the love she’d shared with Chris and Kyle for anything.

  Could she acknowledge her desire for success with the brewery and face possible failure with no excuses? Maybe. Could she acknowledge her hunger for more of a life with Berit, even though the differences between them were too deep to bridge? Tace shook her head. No.

  She got up and started walking after Berit. She’d apologize for her outburst and together they could strategize about the brewery. She didn’t want to waste a single night fighting with her. Tonight, she’d hold her tightly in bed. In June, she’d let her go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Tace pushed the swinging door open an inch and peeked through the narrow slit. She still couldn’t believe she was here. Margaret’s large, open tasting room was crammed with rented tables and folding chairs. Fine china and sterling flatware graced every place setting on the starched white tablecloths. The one hundred tickets to her beer challenge had sold within hours, and every seat was full.

  Tace closed the door again. “I’m going to be sick.”

  “Me, too,” Joseph agreed. He wouldn’t even look out at the crowd, preferring to hover near his kegs like a nervous mother bringing her child to the first day of preschool.

  “You’re not going to get sick,” Berit said. “Here, have a drink. It’ll calm your nerves.”

  Tace looked at the sparkling glass of merlot. “Are you kidding me? Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  Berit just grinned and took a sip of her wine. “This is Margaret’s, not Campton’s.”

  Tace shook her head and peered out the door again. She could trace tonight’s fiasco directly to her talk with Berit after their spat in Pioneer Park. They’d sat down together and discussed Tace’s plans for the brewery, brainstorming ideas for conquering the wine-loving town of Walla Walla. Tace had reminded Berit about the first wine tasting they’d been to, when their server had suggested pairings of wines with fine-dining options. She admitted she’d internally matched her beers against the fancier wines, and the discussion had led to a plan to challenge a winery to a taste-off.

  Finding a willing competitor had been tough. She’d arranged to have the competition at Margaret’s—neutral territory—and then she had called over twenty wineries to issue her challenge. None had accepted—instead they’d been variously condescending, amused, or dismissive. In the end, she’d called Campton Estates—the site of her first humiliation—because they regularly hosted wine-and-food pairing events. She’d talked to the husband and wife owners, and they’d agreed to battle her during the spring release week, when Walla Walla was filled with tourists and the wineries held a variety of different promotions for them.

  Tace paced back and forth between the door and the kegs. In keeping with the casual tone of her beers, she was wearing dark jeans and a green button-down shirt. Joseph was wearing—of all things—a bowtie with his flannel shirt.

  “Have you ever eaten at the restaurant that’s catering?” she asked him. He looked at her as if she’d asked whether he regularly walked across hot coals. “I guess not. Maybe we should have gone and tasted the food before we agreed to this.”

  Berit put her arm around Tace’s shoulders. “They made a special menu for tonight, so you wouldn’t have been able to try the dishes anyway. You had to go with your instincts, just like the winery.”

  Tace sighed and looked at the menu card she’d been given when she arrived, with its calligraphy and decorative swirls. She’d gotten the same menu a week ago, printed in a plain font, and she and Joseph had read the descriptions and made the decision about which beer to serve with each dish. Matching taste with words. What if the night was a complete failure?

  She pushed the thought away. She had been confident when she made her choices, and Kyle and Joseph had hauled the kegs over here. There was no going back now. She’d either be humiliated in front of the large crowd of wine enthusiasts or she’d prove her beers were as delicious and nuanced as an expensive glass of wine.

  She sniffed the air, smelling the hint of herbs. They were almost ready to begin, if the appetizers were already on the stoves in Margaret’s large kitchen.

  As if she’d summoned her, Margaret appeared and called Tace out to the tasting room. Berit grabbed her arm before she went out.

  “Believe in yourself,” she said, giving Tace a kiss. “You know I do. Your beer is wonderful, and everyone will love it.”

  “That really means a lot when your lips taste like wine,” Tace teased, but she hugged Berit in gratitude. Berit’s confidence in her gave Tace the courage to walk through the door and stand in front of the elegantly dressed crowd, even though she wanted to run out the front door and back to her brewery. She’d curl up behind a fermentation tank with Suds, and no one would be able to find her.

  Instead, she smiled when Margaret introduced her and explained the judging criteria for the friendly competition. She traded jokes and playful jibes with the Camptons. She somehow made it back to Berit, even though her knees were trembling.

  “Apps are first,” she said to Berit. “This is our IPA.”

  “My first morning in your home.” Berit brushed the back of her hand over Tace’s cheek. “I’ll never be able to smell lavender again without thinking of the taste of your beer and you on my tongue.”

  “Please stop,” Kyle said, making a gagging noise. “I’m going to hurl.”

  “Not on the diners,” Tace said. She grabbed Berit’s hand and kissed it. “I think that would reflect badly in our score.”

  Joseph carefully filled the small tasting glasses with the summer IPA, and Tace, Kyle, and Berit carried trays of them around to each table. According to the rules Tace, Margaret, and the Camptons had elected, she was allowed to use any of her beers, seasonal or regular, but she couldn’t create something new for the occasion. As soon as she’d read the description of the appetizer, seared scallops in a butter sauce with herbes de Provence, she’d known the ale would be a nice pairing. The lavender and basil would complement the herbs, and the sharp hoppiness of the IPA would make a pleasing contrast with the creamy, sweet scallops.

  Tace tried not to feel discouraged at the sight of her simple glasses next to the delicate wineglasses with a pool of pale gold in the bottom of each one. She kept her mind focused on the next course, and it seemed they’d just finished serving the beer when it was time to collect the empty glasses.

  The salad course was next. Tace had gone with another seasonal, the autumn amber ale, because she thought the added local flavors would appeal to the subtle palates of the tasters. Fi
eld greens with berries and young sweet onions, dressed with a balsamic-raspberry vinaigrette. The citrus from the amber’s orange flavors combined with the nutty, anise undertones should be refreshing enough so the beer didn’t overpower the freshness of the salad. Tace hoped. She thought the winery had an edge here, with a chilled mourvèdre.

  “I think I did the best I could with the pairings,” she confided in Berit while they waited near the kegs for the people to finish their salads, “but I don’t think we’ll be able to beat the wines. They’ve got some excellent flavor profiles.”

  Berit took her hand and pulled her over to the swinging door. She held it open and gestured toward the full tasting room. “What do you see out there?”

  “A lot of pretentious wine lovers,” Tace said.

  Berit pinched her arm. “Try again.”

  “Ouch.” Tace rubbed the sore spot. “Fine. I see people who seem to enjoy good food and drink. And I see an absolutely beautiful setting with candlelight and a welcoming atmosphere.”

  “Much better. And what do you hear?”

  Tace smiled at Berit, keeping her eyes on the woman she loved instead of looking into the tasting room. “I hear laughter and conversations. The clink of glasses and silverware on plates. Soft music.”

  Tace moved Berit away from the door and it swung shut again. She held Berit’s face between her hands and kissed her softly. She loved her. Loved the taste of her and the feel of her. Loved the way Berit made her feel inside. She couldn’t say it out loud because their relationship was too complex and, at the same time, too simple in its finality to complicate it even more with those words. But it felt good to admit them to herself.

  She carried the warmth of her acknowledgment into the next course in the competition. She’d taken a risk in the entrée round by choosing her only non-seasonal beer of the evening, the porter. This had been her least favorite beer when she first took over the brewery, but now it was one she loved. Maybe because she’d been involved in the long process of testing and reworking it until she and Joseph were happy with the result. The porter was delicate and a little sweet, with dry-hopped floral notes, but it had a toasty acidity because they conditioned it with subtle flavors of coffee and chocolate. She’d never tried it with anything like the smoked Copper River salmon and roasted asparagus, but she hoped she’d made the right choice.

  By the time she’d emptied her tray of glasses, she no longer cared if she’d made the perfect choice or not. She saw the room from a different perspective after Berit made her really look and listen. People were having a good time and enjoying the meal. She received compliments, handed out her new business cards, and made plans with the Camptons to offer her beers in their tasting room. The evening was a success, no matter what the result.

  The chef’s choice of dessert was deceptively simple, just a brownie, but Tace’s mouth had watered when she read the description. Premium dark chocolate topped with a layer of vanilla-bean-scented crème brûlée. She’d immediately paired it with her newest seasonal, the spring stout. It was the least-adorned of her seasonal beers, with only a mild hint of edible wildflowers to add sweetness and lightness to the strong flavors of roasted malt and coffee.

  After she’d delivered the last of her beers to the diners, she carried an extra plate of dessert to the back room. “You have to let me know if they work together,” she said to Berit. She fed her a forkful of the brownie and watched Berit sigh in ecstasy as she chewed.

  She cleared her throat and handed Berit a glass of stout. The evening was going well, but Tace wanted to be home and alone with Berit. She was jealous of any event—even one this important to her—that kept them from spending precious time alone. She raised her hand and brushed a crumb of chocolate off Berit’s lower lip, groaning when Berit’s tongue darted out to lick her thumb. “I want you home, in bed, naked, now.”

  “Soon, darling,” Berit said. She took a sip of the stout. “Mmm. Creamy mouthfeel. Perfect for dessert.” She kissed Tace, letting her tongue linger against Tace’s lips. “And the beer’s good, too.”

  Tace stared after her as she walked away, heading into the dining room to collect dessert glasses. Tace followed behind, hoping her flushed cheeks and glazed eyes wouldn’t be too noticeable in a room full of beer and wine drinkers. Margaret and her staff counted votes while the tables were cleared, and all too soon Tace found herself standing in front of all the people again.

  “The vote was extremely close,” Margaret said, holding the etched beer stein Tace had chosen as the prize. “The two contestants were neck and neck until the dessert round, when one pulled in front. The winner of the first annual Bike Trail Brewery Pairing Challenge is Stacy Lomond.”

  Berit and Kyle cheered in the back of the room while Joseph silently lifted his fists in the air in victory. Tace felt a silly grin on her face while she thanked everyone and acknowledged her brewmaster. The event had been planned as a fun way to get publicity, but winning was a thrill. She’d challenged the supremacy of the wineries and had made a statement about the quality of her beers.

  The rest of the evening was a blur to Tace as she helped dismantle the room and load the near-empty kegs into Joseph’s truck. Once they’d finished and Kyle went with him to help unload and to pick up his car at the brewery, Tace finally had Berit alone.

  “I knew you’d win,” Berit said, pulling the seat belt across her chest. “Everyone was raving about the flavor profiles of all the beers.”

  “It’s a great feeling,” Tace admitted. She hesitated before telling Berit about the plan she’d been forming all evening. “I feel like I’ve accomplished something special with the brewery. I was tempted to quit along the way, but you were always there to encourage me.”

  “You’ve discovered a real talent here, Tace. I just didn’t want you to give up before you gave yourself a chance.”

  “And I didn’t.” Tace drove along the dark road, her headlights flashing across fields at every curve in the road. “I didn’t quit when I doubted myself, or when it seemed to interfere with my obligations to Chris and Kyle. I wouldn’t sell the brewery for any of those reasons, Berit, but I might sell for the most important reason of all. You.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Tace reached over and took Berit’s hand. “I got an amazing offer on the brewery from the Camptons tonight. More than I’d ever expected. I could sell to them and come with you when you leave. I love you, Berit. I enjoy working at the brewery and I love my town, but none of it matters without you.”

  “Tace, you can’t stop now. This is just a step along the way for you. You’ll be winning more awards and developing new beers. You’ll be expanding and turning this into a highly profitable business.”

  Tace glanced over at Berit with a frown. “I thought you wanted this. You said you hoped I’d go to Baja with you, and now I can.”

  Berit stared out the window. “I accepted a job in Syria, near Aleppo. It’s an amazing opportunity.”

  Tace felt the distance growing between them and Berit hadn’t even left yet. Her own voice sounded cold and hollow. “When were you planning to tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to ruin tonight. I was waiting until after…but what does it matter where I’m going? We both knew I was leaving. Once I’m beyond the city limits I’m gone, no matter what my destination is.”

  “I guess I was starting to hope. I hoped I’d be able to come visit you where you’re working. Or that you’d come back for a while between jobs.” Tace felt her dream of a future with Berit begin to crumble. She’d told Berit she loved her and felt only her withdrawal in response. “Tonight I really believed I’d be selling the brewery for the right reason. I took a chance on myself and turned it into something special. I wanted to take a chance on us.”

  “You’ll always be someone who is grounded in place, no matter where you live. You dig roots, you connect with the world around you. I don’t. I pull up tent poles and move somewhere new.”

  “Then why can’t
I be grounded in Syria, with you? I can connect with different places, not restrict myself to this one place.”

  Tace offered everything she was. She’d move, she’d adapt. She just wanted to be with the woman she loved.

  “I can’t take you with me to Syria, Tace. It’s a warzone, and the site is restricted to a small team of archaeologists. No families or anyone else. I’m sorry, but I think it’s for the best. I’ll be going back to my old way of life, and you’ll be here, starting an exciting new chapter in yours. We have another month together. Please, let’s make the most of it.”

  Tace saw only emptiness ahead. Berit’s words made even her broken shards of hope turn to dust and blow away. She wanted to say yes to another month with her. They’d both accepted the time limit on their relationship, but everything had changed for Tace.

  She pulled her hand away and put it on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Berit, but I can’t. I can’t pretend I don’t want more, and I won’t accept any less.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Berit sat in her office with the door locked and tried to pull herself together before she had to face her next class. The past week, while she and Tace had cohabitated in silence, had been torture. They avoided each other if possible—Berit had spent most of her time in her office here at Whitman, and she heard Tace leave the house before dawn and return well after dark. The few times when they had crossed paths, they’d done so with downcast eyes and muttered hellos. Berit had considered moving into a hotel until the semester was over. Then Tace could have her room and her life back. But Berit had hung up the phone every time she dialed the hotel’s number. Even with the strain and evasion, she couldn’t bear to leave Tace’s house.