by Meg Muldoon
Warren’s face fell a little bit.
“Well in that case, I might as well start eating them pies now,” he said, glumly. “I’m not expecting too many folks to show up for something called a ‘Second Grand Opening.’”
After being closed for nearly three weeks on account of the murder, Geronimo Brewing Co. was finally set to open its doors again. It had taken a lot of work to get the place back up to speed after the disastrous Fourth, but it finally seemed back to normal. The atmosphere was the way it had always been – cheerful and hospitable, much like the personalities of both Warren and Aileen.
Warren had rebounded and was back to his usual self, too. Rattling on about the various histories of the IPA and the vices and virtues of the craft beer movement in America. His old spark was back – but it seemed there was just one thing that he still hadn’t regained:
His confidence.
“Now what kind of thinking is that?” I said, setting the pies down on a table near the pub area. “Where’s that world-famous optimism of yours?”
He sucked in a deep breath.
“It’s just, there’s a lot riding on tonight. More than there was on the Fourth of July. With us being closed for so long, it’s do or die, Cinny. Tonight’s got to work, otherwise Geronimo Brewing’s just going to be another small-time brewery that bites the dust.”
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
“I think you’re taking this all far too seriously, Grandpa.”
“Too seriously?Too seriously!?”
He seemed startled by the fact that I was making light of his dream.
“Yeah,” I said. “Remember what I said, about your legacy?”
The outraged expression on his face settled somewhat.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“About how in the big scheme of things, whether this brewery falls or flies, it won’t matter, because you being you is all that anybody cares about?”
He furrowed his brow.
“Well, I wasn’t just talking for talking’s sake then,” I said. “That’s the God’s honest truth. I see Geronimo Brewing as being the biggest thing to hit this town since the mills. But it doesn’t really matter to me how big it gets. All that matters to me is that you’re happy, Grandpa. And that you’re spending your golden years doing what you love. Walking this earth, being yourself.”
He looked down, somewhat bashfully, deep in thought for a spell.
“That’s a lot of sense, Cinny Bee,” he said.
I put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
“I swear, I didn’t think I’d ever be so foolish in my old age,” he said. “Ain’t a person supposed to get wiser?”
“Well, it’s probably because you ain’t old at all,” I said, pecking him on the cheek. “You’re just now getting into your prime.”
He grinned brightly and started saying something, but stopped mid-sentence.
He perked up his head suddenly in the direction of the street outside.
“Did you hear that?”
I was quiet for a spell, listening.
It was a sound that I’d become accustomed to lately. One that I often heard in the early morning hours, right before the pie shop was set to open. A noise that often filled my dreams.
There was chattering. A restlessness. The unmistakable sound of people waiting.
Warren’s eyes lit up like a pair of firecrackers.
“Is that…?”
I smiled.
“Let’s go see.”
He quickly turned and walked through the brew house door into the pub area, a pep in his step. I followed, hardly believing my eyes as I gazed out the windows to the sidewalk.
There had to be at least a hundred folks milling around impatiently out there.
Familiar faces.Harold, the bartender from the Pine Needle Tavern. Leon, Dick, Bob, and Merle: all old pals of Warren who worked with him back in his mill days and now lost money to him regularly at their weekly poker nights. Kara and John with baby Laila in a sunhat. And at the front of the line was none other than Harry Pugmire, the mayor, and his wife Jo.
Warren looked back at me, practically speechless.
I wasn’t faring much better.
He went for the front door and unlocked it, poking his head out.
“I hope I’m not being too boneheaded with this question,” he said in a raised voice. “But, uh, just what are all you folks doing out here?”
Harry Pugmire turned from his wife, an exasperated look on his face.
“Why, we’re waiting for you to open, old buddy,” he said.
“But, uh, but we don’t open for another two hours.”
A round of sighs and grumbles erupted from the crowd.
Warren looked back at me, raising his eyebrows.
“You think we could handle all these folks, Cin?”
“If you’ve got enough beer, old man, then I’m ready.”
He turned back to the crowd.
“Well, I suppose we could open a tad bit early, being as all you folks were nice enough to get yourselves down here.”
The crowd erupted in hoots and clapping. Warren held the door open as the line filed into the small brewpub.
My spirit was practically orbiting earth, and I knew I wasn’t the only one.
I looked over at Warren.
The old man was pleased as pie.
Chapter 59
The line coiled out the front door like the tail of a fire-breathing dragon as the pie shop quaked with the menacing chant.
“Pie or die! Pie or die! Pie or die!”
I glanced up from the Firecracker Cherry pies I was making.
I smiled.
“Boy, they sure are impatient out there today,” I said to Tiana.
“That they are.”
“But it’s nothing we can’t handle, right?” I said.
She grinned back at me.
“Nothing we haven’t seen a dozen times before.”
I started laughing at the silliness of the whole thing.
To think, people taking a little flaky pastry and some fruit filling so seriously, they were willing to kill over it.
Some people just didn’t have any perspective.
“We’ve got a hot crowd, miss,” Tobias said, sticking his head into the kitchen.
“Well, I reckon it won’t do to make them wait any longer,” I said. “Let’s give them what they want, shall we?”
I was Cinnamon Peters, after all.
I could handle anything.
Even a fork-wielding mob of angry customers.
I grabbed a panful of fresh-from-the-oven pies, and headed for the front, ready to face the crowd with a warm smile and a can-do attitude.
And that’s when Daniel’s phone buzzed.
I opened my bleary eyes for a split second, looking up at the ceiling. Daniel shifted in bed, and a second later, the buzzing stopped. I felt my eyes fall back shut.
A little bit later, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.
I opened my eyes again to the pitch darkness of early morning, and groaned.
There must have been some incident he had to go deal with. As was the case usually when his phone rang at these hours.
Such were the responsibilities of being Sheriff of Pohly County.
And as his wife, I’d finally come to terms with that.
I propped myself up and threw my legs over the side of the bed. Then I stood up, shuffled across the floor, and made my way into the kitchen, squinting at the bright lights of the fixtures.
He was standing by the coffeemaker, looking out the window into the darkness, all dressed-up and ready to go.
I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting the side of my face on his back.
“But do you have to?” I whined.
He laughed. A nice, soft laugh for this hour of the morning.
“I do, darling,” he said. “Want to come along?”
I lifted my eyebrows in surprise.
I hadn’t expected him to ask me that.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I said. “Not that I don’t want to, but if you remember right, the last time I came along on one of your calls, things didn’t end all that well.”
He turned around to look at me.
“No, but today’s a new day,” he said. “Come along, all right?”
“You’re sure?” I said.
He nodded.
“I mean, only if you want to,” he said. “But you just make things so much better. That’s all.”
I smiled, unable to conceal the tingling I felt in my heart at that little comment.
“You’re one smooth devil, Daniel Brightman,” I said. “And my mother always said to—”
“Watch out for smoothies like me,” he said, finishing the thought he’d heard me repeat at least a dozen times in our married life. “I’ve heard it all before, Mrs. Brightman. Now go and get dressed.”
He nudged me down the hallway toward our bedroom.
“And make it double quick.”
Chapter 60
“What kind of call did you say this was again?”
We’d been driving on dark highways for what felt like hours. Though, as I glanced at the dashboard clock, I realized I was exaggerating a bit. It had only been about 60 minutes since we jumped in Daniel’s new truck and headed out into the woods.
“It’s just an assist on a search and rescue call. A couple of hikers are lost,” he said. “The boys probably don’t really need my help, but I figure I’d be there for support anyway.”
“So no drunk behind the wheel of an RV this time?”
“Not that I know of,” he said, reaching for the thermos in the cup holder between us and taking a sip of coffee.
I looked out the window. Though it was dark, I knew the road well enough. It was the forest service road that led up to Sparks Lake, one of the best fishing holes in the Cascade Mountain area. It was the place that the photo in Geronimo Brewing Co.’s pub was taken.
“You know, I caught my first real fish up here,” I said.
“I thought that photo might have been taken at Sparks,” Daniel said, rubbing his chin. “My brother used to take me up here too growing up. We’d have competitions about who could catch the most fish.”
“Who won?”
He shrugged, slowing down slightly as the condition of the road up ahead worsened.
“It was pretty even most of the time,” he said. “But I think he might have had just the slightest edge on me. You see, Jared was a more patient person than myself. The fish knew it, too.”
I smiled.
We bumped along the ripped-up dirt path for a spell in silence. A moment later, he pulled the truck off to the side and parked.
Then he zipped up his jacket. I expected him to open the door and get out, but instead, he just looked over at me.
“Listen,” he said. “There’s something I want to say to you.”
“If it’s about staying in the car, you don’t have to tell me twi—”
“It’s not about that,” he said.
I suddenly felt nervous, a sick feeling settling at the back of my throat.
The way he was looking at me was so serious, I didn’t know what—
“We haven’t exactly talked about it, but I have the feeling that you think you’ve got a decision to make, Cin,” he said, looking deep into my eyes.
I chewed on my upper lip nervously.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think you’ve been fighting with that elephant in the room all by yourself. And I think it’s time we finally get it out in the open.”
I hadn’t expected such a big talk at this early hour.
He kept his gaze on me.
“I’m talking about kids, Cinnamon.”
That pit in my stomach started growing larger.
I searched his eyes.
The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.
“Cin, there’s nothing I want more than to have a family with you,” he continued. “I want the whole dream. The soccer games, the spaghetti nights, trick-or-treating… hell, I’d even take the PTA meetings… I’m ready for all of that with you.”
I swallowed hard. Then took in a deep breath.
“I want those things, too,” I said. “Just as much as you do, Daniel. I mean, when I hold Laila Mae, sometimes I think...”
I swallowed hard.
“I want us to have that much joy and purpose in our lives, too. And I want it all, with you. And only with you.”
He reached across, taking my hand in his.
“I know,” he said. “But you don’t want it right now. Right?”
It sounded harsh, hearing the truth out loud.
But he was right. And I couldn’t hide my feelings. Not with him gazing into my eyes the way he was, reading what was written in my soul.
“It’s just… I feel there’s more I have to do with my business first,” I said. “I want it to expand. I want that second shop in Portland, Daniel. I want to take it as far as I can. If I don’t, then I’m always going to wonder about what could have been. I’m always going to feel like I missed out on something, you know? I don’t know if I’d be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try.”
Maybe it was selfish. But it was what I felt inside, and I couldn’t help it.
I looked into Daniel’s eyes, searching for the understanding that I so desperately craved.
He looked away for a moment, and I felt like I might lose the coffee I’d had that morning all over his new truck.
What if he didn’t want to wait for me? What would happen to us? I couldn’t lose him. But I couldn’t be untrue to myself, either. What would I do?
“Cin,” he finally said, bringing my hand up to his mouth and kissing it. “Cin, there’s nothing I want more than your happiness. Nothing. You have to know that. And if you don’t want kids just yet, then neither do I.”
I scanned his face.
“You’re not just saying that?”
I just couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing him.
“Cin, there’s time for all of it. For those spaghetti nights and soccer games. There’s no hurry. And I can wait as long as it takes. We’re gonna go about it all at our own pace.”
I felt my heart melt into a puddle as I met his loving gaze.
There was a reason why I had fallen head over heels in love with Daniel Brightman.
He was as supportive and loyal and loving as they came.
He kissed my hand one more time.
“I’m with you 110 percent, Cin. Your dreams are my dreams. And I’m going to help you get to wherever you want to go, darling.”
I threw myself across the truck’s middle divider, hugging him so hard, I think I knocked the breath right out of him.
“I love you, Daniel,” I said. “110 percent, I love you.”
He stroked my hair for a moment, then pulled away. He was smiling.
“Now, I’ve got some campers to go rescue,” he said. “So you just sit tight here for a moment. I won’t be gone long.”
I watched him as he placed his cowboy hat on top of his head, and then got out of the car. He grabbed a few things from out of the truck bed, and then disappeared down the road into the woods.
I finished the rest of the thermos coffee, feeling a new peace and ease in my heart as I watched the sky grow lighter.
Chapter 61
“Did you find them?”
Daniel leaned on the car door and shook his head.
“No, but there’s something down the road a ways I want you to see,” he said.
I furrowed my brow.
It always seemed like Daniel wanted me to stay in the car on these kinds of things.
“Okay, then.”
I pulled on my fleece jacket, zipping it up tight, and then got out of the truck. The air was crisp and chilly and clean. Above, the sky had turned a shade of watercolor slate. In a few minutes, the sun’
s first rays would be hitting the tops of the trees.
I walked around the truck, joining Daniel on the uneven dirt road. We walked a little ways, until we came to a familiar trail.
We hooked a right, following it through the woods.
It wasn’t long before I smelled something wholesome, greasy, and utterly intoxicating drifting on the air.
I stopped for a moment.
“Is that… is that bacon?”
“I was just gonna say,” he said with a rakish smile.
I grinned, all of it finally dawning on me.
“Those campers couldn’t have been too lost, after all,” I said.
“You know, if you ask me, I think they knew exactly where they were all along. They just got a little turned around for a bit there.”
We emerged from the woods just as the first rays of the sun glistened on the placid waters of Sparks Lake.
A couple of fishing poles sat ready and waiting beside a small fire and a pan filled with bacon and flap jacks.
“What’s all this?” I said, admiring the cozy scene that I’d been dreaming of all those hours slaving away in front of hot ovens this summer.
“I thought we could use a morning away together,” he said. “Just the three of us.”
“The three of us?” I said.
He smiled.
“You, me, and, if we’re lucky, a nice, juicy trout.”
I put my arms around his waist and stood on my tiptoes, planting a soft kiss on his lips.
He chuckled and I found that the chuckles had passed through his lips to mine.
“I love you more than anything in this world, Cinnamon,” he said.
“I think I might know something about the feeling.”
He rubbed my shoulders, and we watched as the sun turned the puffy clouds on the horizon to the color of roses.
I let out a happy sigh.
“What was your all-time record back in the day?” I said.
“Huh?”
“With the trout,” I said. “How many did you catch in one day?”
“I think it might’ve been 12.”
“Only 12?” I said. “That’s nothing. When Warren and I used to come up here, I’d get 20 in a single afternoon, easy.”