by A. J. Wynter
“I feel bad leaving Tabitha with Logan,” Lauren said. Charlotte passed her a plastic cup filled to the brim with craft beer.
“Don’t be,” Charlotte handed Lauren her beer. “They both love each other.”
Logan had been a great presence in Tabitha’s life. She didn’t need a father. She had Logan, Lauren thought to herself. “I wish I had brought a reusable mug.” She pushed the image of Baxter as a father from her mind. She took a sip of the beer and licked the foam from her lip. “I can’t believe all the waste.” She looked around at the trash bins, already filled to the brim with plastic cups.
Charlotte took a sip of her beer. “You’re right, they should make everyone buy a commemorative cup.”
“That’s a great ide—” Lauren’s sentence was interrupted as she let out a burp. She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Excuse me.”
Charlotte giggled. “I didn’t know you spoke in burp.”
That’s a great idea,” she repeated and stared into the bubbly brew. “Geez, this stuff is super carbonated.”
“That’s because you never drink anything but coffee or tea,” Charlotte teased.
Charlotte was right. Tabitha’s career and motherhood had consumed her waking hours for the past ten years. She finished off the cup of beer and tapped it on the table. “Another?” she asked.
“Whoa,” Charlotte pointed to the empty cup. “Go easy there, killer.”
“They’re small cups.” Lauren shook hers again. “Drink up.”
Charlotte shrugged and then downed the rest of her drink.
“I’ll get this round,” Lauren offered. She stood up and collected the empty cups.
“What are you doing with those?” Charlotte asked.
“I’m going to get them to refill them.”
“How about you get a pitcher?” a deep voice said from behind Lauren. She turned to see Freddie Brush, Logan’s younger brother, and his girlfriend, Serena.
“Done,” Lauren smiled. She pointed to the picnic table, “Have a seat.”
Freddie and Serena joined Charlotte, and Lauren returned shortly with two pitchers of the Snowball Brew. She set the heavy jugs on the table and poured everyone a round. “It’s called Snowball Brew,” she said. “You’ll never guess what’s on the logo,” she laughed.
“A snowman with balls?” Freddie said.
“How did you know?” Lauren said.
“I didn’t, but I know Charlie.” Charlie was the local bartender who had started a small craft beer company out of the back of the seedy bar in town. Lauren had been to The Last Chance Tavern once, and that had been enough for her.
“Cheers,” Lauren said and held up her cup.
“Cheers,” the group echoed and as they thudded the plastic cups together, Snowball brew spilled onto the checked plastic tablecloth.
“Charlie’s beer is always great,” Freddie said.
“Says the guy who still drinks Jägermeister,” Charlotte said.
“Ooh, a round of Jager bombs?” Freddie grinned and pumped his eyebrows.
“No,” the group said in unison. Freddie shrugged and joined in the group’s collective laughter.
Lauren’s body started to feel a little lighter, and her head a bit tipsy from the beer. She felt her shoulders start to involuntarily groove to the music by the live band. She was grateful that her sister’s group of friends had welcomed her with open arms. Freddie slung his arm over Serena’s shoulder. Lauren felt a pang of jealousy as she watched Freddie kiss Serena’s forehead as she leaned into his shoulder. It seemed like such a sweet intimate touch and Lauren averted her gaze and chugged back the rest of her drink. If someone had told her high school self that she’d be hanging out with the Brush brothers at the Chance Rapids Winter Carnival she wouldn’t have believed it. They were the most popular guys in school, and she was a nerd who wore thrift store clothes. As she laughed with her friends, she felt a sense of comfort as well as loss. She was happy but still felt like there was an emptiness lying beneath.
“Let me get that for you,” Freddie said. He poured her another beer and filled up the rest of the cups on the table.
“I shouldn’t,” Lauren said. She pushed the cup away from her. “I have to go say bye to Tabitha before her sleepover.” She felt a little guilty using her daughter as an excuse, but she had no intention of returning to the party, it was her ‘out’.
“Speak of the devil,” Charlotte said. “Logan just texted me. They’re at the gate.”
“Tell them to join us,” Freddie said.
“They’re not going to let a nine-year-old into the beer garden, Freddie.” Charlotte pursed her lips and shook her head.
“I’ll go meet them,” Lauren said. “It was nice to see you guys. Freddie, you can finish my beer.” Freddie furrowed his brow and tilted his head at Lauren. “Does this mean you’re not coming back?”
“I have work to do.”
Freddie let out a giant ‘humph’ and jokingly crossed his arms. “Classic Lauren.” He raised Lauren’s cup as she stood up and proceeded to finish it before she had even left the table.
“Bye, guys.” Lauren raised her hand in a wave.
“Bye.” The three of her friends raised their cups.
She had been having such a good time hanging out with her friends, something she rarely got to do. She sighed but thought to herself, ‘It’s probably a good thing.’ She could get away without having to talk to Baxter, and she could avoid a hangover because soon enough Freddie would be buying shots for everyone at the table, whether they wanted them or not...
“Mom. Mom.”
She heard Tabitha’s voice before she saw her. She scanned the crowd, then saw her big smile from beneath her purple pom-pom hat. She and her best friend, Julia, were eating hot dogs and Logan was standing with Julia’s parents Charmaine and Steve. He smiled as Lauren approached.
“You’re off duty now,” she laughed and tagged Logan on the shoulder. “Charlotte is in the beer garden with Freddie and Serena.”
“Bye, Tabby,” Logan said.
Tabitha turned and ran over to Logan, her hot dog in her hand. As Logan crouched down to give her a hug, Lauren’s heart constricted. Tabitha truly loved her Uncle Logan.
Logan handed Tabitha her pink backpack. “Don’t forget this,” he smiled.
“That’s not yours?” Steve said. “Pink looks good on you, man.”
“Ha. Ha,” Logan said and jokingly punched Steve in the arm. Logan seemed to be best friends with everyone in town. “Nice to see you, Charmaine,” Logan tipped his hat. “Wish I could say the same for your husband.”
While Logan joked with Julia’s parents, Lauren crouched down to hug her daughter. Tabitha squeezed her neck quickly, then pulled on her backpack. “Bye, Mom!” she shouted.
“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” she shouted. Tabitha raised her hand in acknowledgment but didn’t turn. Her daughter would rather hang out with her friends than her mom. She knew this day was coming but hadn’t expected it so soon.
“Shall we?” Logan crooked his arm.
“I was actually going to head home,” Lauren said.
“To an empty house?” Logan turned Lauren by her shoulders and started to walk her to the beer garden. Lauren resisted for a millisecond but then gave in.
“Fine,” she huffed. “If I have to,” she laughed and held his forearm as he led them back to the picnic table. She felt like a celebrity on the arm of the former hockey star. Everyone said hi to Logan and he yielded several high fives as they made their way through the crowd. Now the town’s hockey coach, he was loved by everyone. Her sister was a lucky woman.
“Who is that?” Logan whispered as they approached the table. Lauren stood on her tiptoes to try and catch a glimpse of who he was looking at, but his six-foot-four height gave him an advantage over her. Four people had joined Charlotte, Freddie, and Serena at the table, and even though she could only see the back of the green hat, she knew exactly who was wearing it. She paused and felt her
knees wobble.
“Whoa,” Logan said. He grabbed onto her arm to hold her up. “Are you okay?”
“I-I-I...” Lauren stammered. “Goddamn you, Charlotte.” She cursed under her breath when she found her words.
Logan looked from the table back to Lauren. “Is that who I think it is?” he whispered.
Lauren didn’t know how much Charlotte had told her boyfriend about Lauren and Baxter, but the concerned look in his eyes told her that her big-mouthed sister had told him everything.
“What is she doing?” he said, more to himself than to Lauren. His jaw was set. Lauren squared her shoulders and unthreaded her arm from Logan’s. “Charlotte.” Logan shook his head. “That woman, I’m going to—”
Lauren interrupted. “Kill her?”
“I wasn’t going to go that far,” Logan replied, his eyes trained on the scene at the picnic table from across the beer garden.
“We don’t have to go over there,” Logan said.
Lauren put her hands on her hips. “Oh yes, we do.”
“Are you sure?” his eyebrows knitted.
“I’m a big girl, Logan.” Lauren tucked her hand back in his arm. “You just might have to hold me up a little,” she laughed. She was trying to make light of the situation but having a rock-solid man to hold onto never hurt.
“You got it,” Logan said.
Lauren tugged on his arm. “Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter 18
BY LATE AFTERNOON, there were a few tipsy Rapidians dancing in front of the band’s stage. From the entrance, Baxter and his team scanned the scene. The beer gardens were packed. “Looks like it’s full,” he said. “Too bad.” He had been looking for an excuse to leave the Winter Carnival ever since he spotted Lauren Bunkman at the ax-throwing contest.
“No way,” Nicole said to nobody in particular, her eyes trained on one section of the crowd. “Just give me a second.” She raised her index finger at Baxter and the executives, “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the crowd before any of her colleagues could object. Baxter was annoyed and looked at his watch, seeing it was almost dinner time.
A table of rough-looking locals brazenly looked the group of Caldwell executives up and down before turning back to whisper amongst themselves. Baxter watched as word of their arrival spread through the crowd. More than a few sets of eyes turned to check out the big bad developers. The hatred towards him and his crew was palpable. He knew that not everyone was going to be in support of Caldwell Creek, but he hadn’t expected to be public enemy number one.
Nicole bounded back to the entrance. “I’ve got us a spot,” she smiled.
“We should go,” Baxter said. “I don’t think we’re welcome here.” He wondered how long it was going to take for one of the locals to get drunk enough to start throwing punches.
“My friend Serena is here. It’s all good.” Nicole smiled. She grabbed Barry by his arm. “Come on guys, I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Alright, one drink and then we’re out of here,” Baxter said.
As they followed Nicole to meet her friend, Baxter could feel more than one set of eyes boring holes through his expensive jacket.
“Wait,” Baxter said. “We can’t show up empty-handed. I’ll go get a couple of pitchers for the table.” Peace offerings, he thought to himself.
“Okay,” Nicole smiled. “We’ll be over there.” She pointed to the back-right corner of the roped-off area. “The one beside the fire pit.”
Baxter held his head high as he wove through the crowd. He wasn’t going to get run out of town, but he also didn’t like being persona non grata. He wished he knew a way to win over the locals. While he waited in the beer line, he watched the band play, the lead guitarist was a John Mayer doppelganger, not just in looks, but in skill as well. He wore fingerless gloves and his fingers flew over the strings of his acoustic guitar. There were some people dancing, and it struck Baxter that he’d never been in a place with so much laughter. When they weren’t shooting him death stares, almost everyone in the entire place was smiling and laughing.
“What can I get you?” The bartender, a young guy with a beard, asked.
“I’ll take three pitchers of whatever you recommend.”
“Roger that.” He filled up the jugs and set them on the folding table. “That’ll be thirty.”
A steal of a deal, Baxter thought to himself. No wonder everyone’s getting plastered. He handed over his black credit card. The young man raised his eyebrows as he read the card. “Wait a second,” Baxter said, stopping him before he could punch in the amount. “What’s your name?”
The young man paused and looked up through raised eyebrows. “Charlie.”
“Charlie, put everyone’s drinks on that card. Can you do that?”
“Really? For how long?” He asked.
“The rest of the night,” Baxter said firmly.
“Are you serious?” He tapped Baxter’s card on the back of his hand.
“As a heart attack, Charlie.” Baxter smiled and winked. He saw the lumberjack’s tough façade crack. “Is it going to be a problem?”
Charlie shrugged his shoulders and shot him a genuine smile, “I don’t see why it would be.”
Baxter picked up the pitchers of beer. “I’ll leave that card with you and I’ll be back to sign off on it.”
“You got it, Mr...” The bartender looked down at the card, “Baxter Caldwell.”
Baxter nodded and made his way through the crowd, his beer bounty in hand, his eyes trained on Nicole’s white fur hat. He reached the table and set down the jugs with intense focus. “Where’s your lederhosen, Fraulein,” Thomas laughed.
“That’s Boss Fraulein to you,” Baxter chuckled, but his laughter was cut short as he glanced at the other members of their table and saw Charlotte O’Hare.
Nicole patted the bench seat beside her. “Baxter, this is my old friend Serena Cruise.”
Baxter extended his hand to the pretty blond woman seated across from Kate. “Baxter Caldwell. Pleased to meet you.” She looked very familiar, but it took him a second to place her. “You were in the ax-throwing contest,” he said.
“Last place,” she smiled and held up her cup. Serena took over the introductions, “This is Freddie.” The handsome man in the Patagonia coat sitting beside her stood up to shake his hand. “And that’s Charlotte—”
“O’Hare,” Baxter finished her sentence. “We’ve met.”
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Caldwell,” Charlotte said. “Glad to see you’re taking my advice.”
Baxter stepped his leg over the bench set and sat down across from Charlotte. He tilted his head quizzically, “What advice was that?”
“To get out, meet the people whose lives you’re going to rui... impact.”
“You were going to say ruin.”
“Well, that’s still up to you,” she said.
“How about we leave business at the front door,” he suggested. “For the afternoon.”
“Afternoon?” Charlotte said. She pointed behind him. The sky had turned a cotton candy pink as the sun made its way behind the jagged mountain peaks that surrounded the town. White twinkle lights flicked on and volunteers came around lighting the industrial-strength patio heaters. “How about we make that pact for the evening too?”
He held up his beer. “Deal,” he said. “To an afternoon slash evening truce.” The unlikely assembly of Rapidians and Caldwell executives raised their glasses and drank.
Nicole and Serena were talking animatedly beside him while Thomas and Barry talked to Freddie. Baxter couldn’t hear what they were saying, but every few minutes the three of them would break out in raucous laughter. He knew that crony laughter. Whatever Freddie had said, it was definitely raunchy. That left him and Charlotte.
“Are you having a good time in Chance Rapids?” she asked.
“Sure,” he smiled. “We’ve just been working.”
She nodded. “I know what that’s like.”
>
The conversation felt forced and stilted, but with business off the table, he didn’t know what to talk about.
“Where did you learn how to throw an ax?” She leaned her elbows on the table and held her plastic cup with both hands.
“I spent a bit of time in the woods in another life,” he replied. “Not too far from here actually.”
“Really? Where?”
“Not too many people know this about me, but I worked as a tree planter when I was young.”
“You are young.” She pointed at him and then sipped her beer.
“I mean, I was a kid, really,” Baxter chuckled. “At the camp, we were just a bunch of frustrated young men. We made up all kinds of games to keep us occupied in our downtime. One of them was ax-throwing, although none were as big as that one today.”
“Are you a skier, Mr. Caldwell?” Charlotte planted her elbow on the table and rested her face against her fist.
While the questions were friendly, Baxter felt like he was in an interrogation. “I am,” he replied. “Why?”
“Just curious,” she shrugged. “Have you been on the mountain yet?”
“No,” Baxter replied. “As I said, we’ve just been working. Are the conditions any good?”
“Actually, for early season, they’re the best I’ve seen in years. You should go.”
He finished his beer in one sip and set down the empty cup on the table. She raised her eyebrows at him. “What? These are small,” he said. Charlotte refilled his cup and then topped up her own. “They should really be using something reusable,” he stated.
“You’re not the first person to say that.” Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him momentarily and then shook her head slightly. “You’re the heli-skiing type, aren’t you?”
It sounded like an insult. “I’ve been.” He kept his answer short. “How about you?”
“Oh, I love heli-skiing,” Charlotte said. “I try to go a few times a year.”
“So, you’re the heli-skiing type,” he volleyed back.
“I suppose I am.” She shrugged. “Been to any good lodges lately?”