Without a Brew

by Ellie Alexander

  “No worries.” Kat brushed me off. “Those women are like their groupies. They hang on every word ‘Kev’ says. I don’t think he’ll mess with me when he has a vapid fan base drooling over him.”

  Kat was a bit younger than Kevin and his friends, but she was wise beyond her years.

  “Here’s to launching the bed-and-breakfast.” Garrett gave us both high fives.

  After working on the concept for months, I was excited to kick off our new endeavor. But I couldn’t shake a nagging feeling that Kevin and his friends were going to be trouble.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  MY FEARS ABOUT KEVIN AND his pals were confirmed as the afternoon wore on. They camped out in the tasting room, ordering multiple rounds of pints and talking loud enough for everyone in the pub to hear their conversation. I knew it was intentional. Kev was the kind of guy who thrived on attention. His friends might not have picked up on it, but I noticed that each time he told a story about firing his personal assistant or how much he paid for his Tesla, he would do a quick survey of the room to make sure our other guests were listening.

  They weren’t.

  At least they were trying not to. One table of regulars moved away from Kevin’s group and came to sit at the bar.

  “What’s the deal with that guy, Sloan?” a doctor who worked at the village hospital just around the corner from Nitro asked. “Is he trying to impress us? Because here’s a news flash—it’s not working.”

  “Don’t ask. They were supposed to be staying up at one of the ski chalets, but apparently the pipes froze, so Lisa sent them to us. Lucky, huh? Aren’t you jealous? Maybe we should send them to the hospital. You have visitor rooms there, right?”

  “No way. If that guy shows up at the hospital, I’m turning in my doctor card.”

  Garrett poured frothy new pints. “This round is on the house, Doc.”

  The doctor raised his glass. “Unnecessary, but thank you. If either of you need a sedative to help you sleep tonight, come find me.”

  I knew he was joking, but I did feel bad for Garrett and Kat. At least I would get to escape any annoying guests at night. For the moment, I was still living in the vintage farmhouse that Mac and I had spent years restoring to its original glory. Lately, though, I’d been toying with putting the house and acreage up for sale and making an offer on a sweet cottage in town. I had even gone so far as to tour the new property with my nemesis, April Ablin. She’s Leavenworth’s self-proclaimed ambassador and one-woman welcome wagon. To help solidify her position in the village, she dresses in outlandish barmaid outfits and somehow manages to butcher any attempt at speaking German, much to Otto and Ursula’s delight.

  A woman with long, silky blond hair swept into the bar. With her stylish black slacks and gray cashmere sweater, she didn’t look like our typical winter ski tourist stomping around in heavy boots. She made a beeline for the bar and dropped her Italian leather purse on an empty barstool.

  “Can I get you a drink?” I asked, sliding a Nitro coaster toward her.

  “Yes, please. I could really use a drink.” She sounded frazzled.

  “Do you have a particular style of beer you prefer, or would you like me to make some suggestions?” Educating our customers on flavor profiles and hop varietals was the best part of my job. I loved being able to share my knowledge on the craft and help people find the perfect beer for their palate. We had an ongoing challenge at Nitro that we could match every customer’s preferences with one of our custom craft beers. Thus far we hadn’t missed. It was especially rewarding when a customer sat down at the bar and claimed they “hated beer.” I took those words as my personal mission to introduce them to a variety of styles. Hops overwhelmed many palates, so I would often start with a pilsner or wheat beer. On the other hand, we had plenty of customers who refused to drink our malty offerings—for them, I went straight to our hoppiest brews, like our Pacific Northwest line of IPAs.

  “Anything. Whatever you like best is fine.” The woman made a sound like a half moan and twisted her straw-colored locks around her index finger. I could tell that blond wasn’t her natural color, since her eyebrows were as dark as our winter stout. The contrast between her nearly black eyebrows, bittersweet chocolate eyes, and honey highlights was striking.

  “Our most popular beer at the moment is our winter ale—it’s a nice balance of hops with fifty IBUs and hints of pine and citrus. Do you want a taste?” IBU—International Bittering Unit—is a term brewers throw around, but for the novice drinking crowd, it’s a great way to gauge a beer’s hop profile. The lower the IBU, the less hoppy or bitter the beer will be.

  “That sounds fine. I don’t need to taste it. I’ll take a pint.”

  “Great.” I went to pour her a glass of our newest winter ale. Garrett and I had tweaked a holiday recipe for the hoppy brew. We had tapped it on New Year’s Day and would have it on as our seasonal until mid-to-late February.

  I returned with the pint and handed it to the woman. “Here you go. Is there anything else I can get you? Would you like to see a food menu?”

  She scrolled through her phone. “No. I’m not hungry. I’m trying to find a place to stay tonight, though, and every hotel I’ve been to is booked. I had no idea Leavenworth was so popular during the winter.”

  “Only on weekends,” I replied. “You’re here with the Friday crowd. Monday through Thursday is pretty quiet. But today everyone rolls in for the weekend—skiing, sledding, shopping, and of course, checking out our annual winter light display.”

  The woman took a large gulp of her beer. Craft beer is made for sipping, not chugging. When I give tours of the brewery and tastings, I always encourage our customers to savor the experience. Our beer is best when you take the time to smell the hops, swirl the first sip in your mouth, and then close your eyes and take a minute to really absorb each distinct flavor. Sure, you can chug a beer to get a buzz, but you’ll miss the nuances and subtle aromas that we spend weeks and months perfecting. Watching her knock back the pint made me sad. It was kind of like someone walking past an artist’s painting and saying, “Oh, pretty,” without bothering to stop and take note of the brushstrokes and layers of color.

  “Great. Just my luck.” She set the half-empty beer on the bar. “You don’t happen to know of any hotels with availability?”

  “Where have you checked?” I had a feeling she was going to be in the same predicament as Kevin and his friends from Seattle.

  She rattled off the name of basically every boutique hotel and bed-and-breakfast in the village.

  “That’s pretty much it.”

  “I’m screwed.” She pressed her thumb into her temple. “I don’t want to drive back to Spokane in the dark. Getting through the mountain passes in the daylight was stressful enough.”

  “Yeah, that’s a long drive. What is it, like, three and half hours?”

  “Longer with the snow right now. I followed a snowplow through the pass. That was fun.” She picked up the beer again.

  I knew I had to offer the last empty room upstairs. Obviously, the universe was conspiring against our soft launch. “Hang on a minute. I might have an idea for you.” I went to find Garrett. He was in the office checking on inventory numbers. To call it an office was an exaggeration at best. The tiny room had just enough space for two desks and a filing cabinet. Garrett had painted the far wall with whiteboard paint. He used it to work out new beer recipes. Today there were early sketches of our brainstorms for the spring line on the wall in purple and green dry-erase pen. Honey wheat, a lavender sour, lemon and orange citrus, and a strawberry blonde were beers we were considering.

  “Hey, so how do you feel about having another guest tonight and going all in on our not-so-soft launch?”

  “What?” He set a stack of papers aside.

  I told him about the woman at the bar.

  “We can’t win, can we?” His eyes held a touch of bewilderment. “I guess they weren’t kidding when they said that we wouldn’t have a
problem keeping the place booked.”

  “I know. It’s like, be careful what you wish for.” I grimaced. “What do you think? Should we offer her the room and go for it?”

  “Why not? What’s one more guest?” He clicked the top of a ballpoint pen. “What about breakfast?”

  “I’m going to work on that next. I’ll see what we have in the kitchen. Since we knew that Ali and Brad were going to be here, I had already planned for tomorrow and Sunday. I’ll probably need to grab a few extra things at the grocery store, but I can make it work.”

  “Let’s do it, then.” He flashed me a thumbs-up.

  I left him to finish the inventory sheets and returned to the bar. “Good news,” I said to the woman, who had finished the beer. “We have a room here if you’re interested.”

  Her face lit up. “Really? Yes, please—I’ll sleep right here on the bar if I have to.”

  I told her about our guest rooms and how she wasn’t alone in her predicament.

  “Thank you so much, you are a life saver, and I’m in desperate need of saving right now.” She reached out her hand. “I’m Liv, by the way. Liv Paxton.”

  “Sloan, brewer turned innkeeper.” I returned the handshake. “What brings you to our village?”

  Her face blanched. She looked at a loss for words. “Uh, business.”

  “Oh.” Leavenworth wasn’t exactly a mecca for big business. I thought about asking what line of work she was in but didn’t want to pry. “You’re here at a beautiful time of the year. Be sure to check out the lights tonight.”

  “Okay, yeah.” She didn’t sound overly enthused. “I saw a flyer about that. This is my first time in Leavenworth.”

  “I’m sure you’ll love it. There’s so much to do. Do you ski?”

  She frowned. “No. I hate the snow.”

  “Well, in that case, enjoy the shopping. There’s a great spa just outside of town.” I pointed to her empty glass. “Can I get you another?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  I refilled her glass and came back to find Kevin and his pals gathered at the bar for another round. He smelled like strawberries and chemicals. I guessed it was from the vaping. “Hey, bartender, get this pretty little lady a beer as ice-cold as her ex-boyfriend’s heart.” Kevin winked at Liv.

  Liv rolled her eyes and placed a perfectly manicured hand over her beer glass. “I’m fine.”

  Kevin was invading Liv’s personal space with his thick arm propped on the bar. “Check out the watch. Have you ever seen anything like this baby? Solid gold Gucci band meets state-of-the art tech. This watch can do it all, order Chinese food and take photos under water when I’m diving. It can even start my Tesla.”

  “Good for you.” Liv was less than impressed. She didn’t bother to look up from the beer I had handed her.

  Kevin proceeded to take the massive gold watch off his wrist and hand it to her.

  “I don’t need to see your fake watch up close.”

  One of the women in Kevin’s party gasped and threw her hand over her mouth.

  “Fake?” Kevin’s face burned with color. “This isn’t fake. It retails for over a thousand dollars. I make more than that in a couple hours at my company. I’m a VP.”

  “Yeah, he’s a VP,” the young woman chimed in. She was dressed in head-to-toe pink. A pink ski suit, hat, and scarf. Even her eyelids were dusted in a glittery pink shadow.

  “Shut it, Jenny, I’ve got this.” Kevin kept his attention focused on Liv. Jenny recoiled at his dismissal.

  Liv turned her body away from them, using her leather purse to block the empty stool next to her.

  Kevin thrust the watch at her. “Take a good look. You’ve probably never had a chance to hold a real Gucci, have you?”

  “I don’t care if your watch is from Target. I’m doing my thing. You do you.” Liv tried to shift in her chair to move away completely.

  “No, you called this fake, and that’s a bunch of crap. Take a good look at it. It’s solid gold.” He reached for her wrist and tried to force the watch into her hand.

  She threw her hands in the air and the watch landed on the floor. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Hey, you broke my watch!” Kevin screamed.

  Jenny picked up the watch and cradled it like it was an infant.

  “Everyone calm down,” I said with authority.

  “She broke my freaking watch.” Kevin yanked the watch out of Jenny’s hand and held it up for me to see.

  “You tried to assault me,” Liz retorted.

  Jenny rushed to his defense. Her cheeks flushed with color as she shook her finger in Liv’s face. “Assault you? You don’t even know who he is. He’s one of the most powerful men at one of the most powerful companies in Seattle, and you just threw his watch on the ground.”

  Liv rolled her eyes and looked to me for support.

  “Listen, I want all of you to go back to your table.” I motioned for Kevin and his group to step away from the bar. Kat and Garrett must have heard the commotion, as they both appeared on either side of me at the same time. At least we had safety in numbers. Nitro wasn’t the kind of pub where bar fights took place. I wasn’t about to let that change now.

  “What’s going on?” Garrett immediately clued in on my body posture and stood between the groups.

  “That witch broke my watch.” Kevin glared at Liv.

  “No, you tried to assault me,” Liv repeated. Her face was stoic.

  Garrett ushered Kevin and his friends to their table. “Look, guys, we’re going out of our way to accommodate you, but if you’re going to make a scene, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “It’s cool, it’s cool,” Jenny chimed in, tugging Kevin by the arm. “We’ll have some beers, and chill, right, guys?”

  “What the hell was that?” Liv glanced over her shoulder and shook her head. “He’s still living the frat guy dream.”

  “I know. We get a handful of his type every now and then. Sorry about that.” I lowered my voice. “Here’s the thing. Kevin and his friends are also staying the night. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “No. Not unless I sneak into his room and kill him.” She laughed.

  “That’s dark.”

  “I’ve been told I have a dark sense of humor. Maybe because I’ve seen plenty of darkness in my life.” She removed a tube of lip gloss from her purse and expertly applied it. Then she looked up at me. “I’m kidding. Don’t worry. I’ll avoid that group of frat boys and sorority sisters like the plague.”

  This wasn’t exactly how I had envisioned our bed-and-breakfast guests would interact. I had imagined guests happily chatting over breakfast, strangers meeting and becoming friends, gathering in the tasting room for late-night games and pints. Never had I pictured guests fighting or threatening one another.

  If we couldn’t figure out a way to keep Kevin and his crew under control, our venture might sink before it had even started.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  GARRETT, KAT, AND I TOOK turns keeping an eye on Kevin and his group. Around dinnertime Kevin made a point of announcing loudly that they were going to have to venture into the village in search of more substantial fare. We serve small plates, bar snacks, and a daily soup at Nitro, but if guests are looking for a heartier dinner, we send them to one of Leavenworth’s plentiful restaurants. In a town with only two thousand permanent residents, the world-class dining scene in the village often surprises visitors. From authentic German Wiener schnitzel to traditional steakhouses, and European bistros featuring locally sourced meats and produce to Mediterranean, Indian, Mexican, and Italian, there were ample options for every palate and price point. Visitors could grab a brat and beer at the Brat Haus, with its outdoor grill, or experience fine dining at one of the village’s five-star restaurants.

  “Unless you girls want greasy bar snacks, we’re going to have to head out in the cold in search of something better,” Kevin announced. He stood and grabbed two suitcases. “Swagger, grab
a bag. We’ll be back down for you ladies in a few. Bundle up.”

  Garrett and I prided ourselves on our artisanal approach to traditional pub fare. Nothing we served would be classified as greasy. As much as I wanted to respond with a snarky comment, if Kevin and his friends took off for the night, that was all the better for me and the rest of our customers.

  After they were gone, I went to clean their table, where the two women were waiting for Kevin and his friend to return from putting their bags upstairs.

  “Can you believe her?” Jenny said to her friend as she gave Liv serious side-eye.

  “Jenny, let it go.” Her friend tried to appease her. “Kev was being an ass.”

  “What? Mel, how can you say that?” She ran her fake hot pink nails through her dirty blond hair and stared at her friend in disbelief.

  Mel rolled her eyes. “How long are you going to do this? You and Kevin have been textbook dysfunctional for three years. You always end up hurt. I told you it was a bad idea to come this weekend. He treats you like crap, Jenny.”

  “No he doesn’t.” Jenny’s bottom lip quivered slightly. She clicked on her phone and scrolled until she found a photo. “Look at this. It’s us in Napa for Thanksgiving. Why would he invite me on a wine country getaway if he wasn’t into me?” Next she tapped her index finger that sported a giant fake cubic zirconia ring. “He gave me this as a token of his affection. If he wasn’t into me, why would he do that?”

  Mel sighed. “Because everyone else turned him down. Face it, the only time he texts is when he wants to hook up.” She placed her hand on Jenny’s arm in a show of support.

  Jenny’s jaw dropped open. “That’s so rude. He invited me for this ski weekend. I’d say that’s more than a booty call.”

  I could tell that Mel wanted to say more, but instead she nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Just be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  I wondered about their relationship. They appeared to be about the same age. Mel wore expensive ski gear as well, but hers was more sophisticated than Jenny’s hot pink.