“It’s fine. It’s totally fine. Not that I haven’t fantasized about punching Mac in the face every once in a while, but I’m not in danger of resorting to murder.”
“No, I didn’t think you were.” Garrett looked at his feet. “Sorry.”
“The thing is I was feeling so confident after I found the articles about Chloe’s death. Taylor had to have known Lily. Why would he lie about that?”
Garrett shrugged.
“I thought I might have solved the case, but then I saw Brad stumbling around on the golf course, and in light of his revelation, I’m more confused than ever.”
“This won’t make you feel any better, but I had to cut Kevin off a while ago. He started to spout off about how he was glad that Lily is dead. He called her a bunch of terrible names that I won’t repeat. Mel and Swagger have been keeping a close eye on Jenny.”
“I’m starting to think they all did it. Wasn’t there an Agatha Christie novel where that happened?”
“You should ask my mom,” Garrett replied. “She’s a huge Agatha fan. By the way, I forgot to mention that they’re coming next weekend for IceFest. She called earlier. I blocked out a room for her and my dad and one for my sister.”
“That’s great. I’m looking forward to meeting your family.” Garrett’s parents and sister had planned to visit Leavenworth before the holidays but got snowed out by an early winter storm. Garrett had gone to Seattle for Christmas, so I knew his parents were eager to visit and see how he had transformed his great-aunt’s inn. I was nervous about meeting Garrett’s parents. It was silly. I felt like a teenager with a crush, but I wanted his family to like me.
“They can’t wait to meet you.” Garrett swept peanut shells into the garbage. “I’ve been talking you up for months now. They think you’re some kind of beer goddess.”
“Great. No pressure there.” I paused for a second. Part of me wanted to tell him about Sally’s visit. He had been extremely supportive when Sally and I had first gotten back in touch, but I wasn’t ready. And there was no need to complicate an already stressful situation with my personal angst.
Kat balanced a tray of empty pint glasses and soup bowls. “You sort of are a beer goddess, Sloan.”
“Thanks, I think.” I wrinkled my forehead.
“No, I mean it,” Kat insisted. “You know more about beer than anyone in town.”
I hadn’t come back to the pub to get my ego stroked, but I did appreciate her praise. “You don’t need any help with the guest rooms, do you?” I asked, intentionally changing the subject.
“Already done.” Kat turned to look at Kevin and then back to me and Garrett. “I can’t wait for that group to be gone. He’s such a jerk. He tells me the same joke every time I wait on him. I think I’ve heard it twenty times now. Am I supposed to keep pretending like it’s new?”
“What’s the joke?” Garrett asked.
“You don’t want to know. It gives me the creeps.”
“The creeps?”
She twisted one of her curls. “Yeah, it’s the same thing every time, and it’s in poor taste.”
“What is it?” Garrett asked again. He took a protective stance next to her.
Kat glanced at Kevin. “It goes like this: ‘Why did the murderer take a shower?’ The first time he told me the joke, he waited for me to ask why, but every time he’s told it since, he goes straight to the punch line. ‘Because he wanted to make a clean getaway.’”
“That’s terrible.” I agreed with Kat. Kevin’s joke was in poor taste, to say the very least. I let out an involuntary shudder. Who would joke about something like that, especially given our current circumstances? The joke matched his self-inflated personality, but could his constant joking really be boastful bragging?
“And, why would he tell this joke to you more than once?” Garrett asked. He wasn’t necessarily looking for an answer.
I understood his point. Was Kevin telling the joke to our young employee to make her feel uncomfortable? I wouldn’t have put it past him.
“Kat, stay away from his table,” Garrett cautioned. “I thought we had already talked about you letting me handle him.”
“We did.” Her cheeks splotched with color. “But every time I walk by him, he tries to have a conversation with me.”
“Ignore him,” I said, concurring with Garrett.
My cell phone buzzed. It was a text message from Alex: “On my way home. See you in fifteen.”
“I’m happy to have you deal with him,” Kat said to Garrett, throwing her hands in the air.
I stuffed my phone into my pocket. “I should go. I’ll be here in the morning with bagels.”
They said their good-byes. As I left, I passed Kevin’s table. He didn’t so much as look up from his phone when I walked by. I was convinced that he was trying to get under Kat’s skin. Good thing Garrett was here to watch over the situation.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Kevin’s crude joke on my drive to the farmhouse. Who would joke about murder while being sequestered because of a real murder? Maybe someone who thinks that they’ve gotten away with murder?
The farmhouse was dark when I arrived. I had beaten Alex home. That was good. It gave me time to turn on the lights, turn up the heat, and put milk on the stove for hot chocolate. I wanted to tell him my news about the cottage. Fingers crossed, he would be excited, but I was also aware that the farmhouse was the only home he had ever known. He would probably be torn about moving.
While I waited for him, I whisked milk, vanilla, and dark chocolate on medium-low heat until it was frothy. When Alex was little, we would make cups of steaming hot chocolate with homemade whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles after dinner. Then we would curl up in front of the fire on cold winter evenings and read together. It had been many years since I had read aloud to my son, but we could still share the tradition of cups of cocoa and a fireside chat.
“Mom, I’m home,” I heard him call as I scooped generous amounts of fluffy whipped cream onto two mugs of hot chocolate.
“You’re just in time. I made hot chocolate.”
“Did you make one for Dad? He’s here, too.”
What? I’d figured he’d just drop Alex off.
“No, but there’s plenty.”
Mac looked sheepish as they entered the kitchen. “I won’t stay long, Sloan. Wanted to share some news with you.”
A flood of panic pulsed through my body. I hadn’t expected to see Mac. Not yet.
I ladled the creamy chocolate into another earthenware mug and forced myself to breathe. “What’s that?”
“Dad bought a condo,” Alex interrupted.
“Oh, really? The one you were looking at near Blackbird Island?” Could they tell that I was trying to hold my emotions in check? My voice sounded high-pitched and overly cheery.
“That’s the one.” Mac took the mug I offered him.
“Congratulations.”
“It’s going to be great,” Alex said, sipping his hot chocolate and giving himself a whipped cream mustache in the process. “I can walk to school from there. Catch the shuttle to the ski hill. A bunch of my friends are nearby.”
A bit of relief washed over me hearing Alex talk with such enthusiasm about Mac’s new place.
“It turns out that I have some news, too.” I told them about putting in an offer on the chalet and how Joe and Terra had accepted. Maybe keeping the conversation to our housing situation would help.
Alex gave me a hug. “Awesome, Mom. That’s going to be so cool. I can walk to your place and Dad’s.” His phone rang. “I promised the guys I would help them with our math homework.”
“Go ahead.” I forced a smile as he answered the call and started telling his friends about moving into the village. “He seems excited,” I said to Mac.
“Sloan, you’re not really going to leave this place, are you?” His face was lined with concern.
“I can’t do this right now, and we’ve already talked about this, Mac.” I dug my feet into the floor.
“It has changed, Mac.” If he only knew how much it had changed.
“I know. I’m sorry for that. I just want you to be happy, Sloan. You don’t need to move. I’ll drive Alex home every night that he’s with me.”
“I appreciate that, Mac, but I want to move. I’m excited. I’m ready for this next stage of my life.”
“Oh.” He drank his hot chocolate in silence.
Part of me felt bad. I hadn’t meant that as a slam on him, but it was the truth. I was changing, and I was ready to embrace the new me—whether that meant being a part of the Krause family or not.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
THE NEWS THAT I WAS moving sent Mac into a funk. He didn’t stay long. That was fine by me. It gave Alex and me time to talk alone.
“When will we move, Mom?” He was on his second serving of hot chocolate. His teenage eating habits were all over the place. One day he would barely nibble on what I put in front of him and then the next day he would consume anything and everything he could get his hands on. I had learned to keep a well-stocked fridge and pantry.
“April thinks the sale will be fast. The inspection will happen sometime this week and then it will be a matter of signing the paperwork. Potentially we could move in by early next month.”
“Cool.” He rummaged through the cupboards and grabbed a box of cereal. Then he proceeded to pour himself a bowl of the cereal and milk.
“How are you feeling about the farmhouse?”
“Fine, why?” He rubbed his eyes. I had to resist the urge to smooth out his cowlick. In the past few years, Alex had lost any trace of his baby cheeks. He was taller than me, with Mac’s broad shoulders and my olive skin. Sometimes when he slept at night, I would sneak into his doorway and steal a glance at my almost-grown-up kid.
“This is your home, and I know it’s going to be hard to leave.”
“Not really,” he said through a mouthful of cereal. “I’m ready to move.”
“Are you sure?” I wondered if he was putting on a brave face for my sake.
“Mom, yeah. It’s cool. I swear.” He plunged a marshmallow into his hot chocolate. “Yeah, this has been our house, but it’s not the same now that Dad’s not here.”
I started to interject.
“Don’t panic. I’m not saying that because I’m super depressed about it. It’s just the way things are now.” He had already polished off all the cereal, so he tilted the bowl in order to drink the little bit of remaining milk.
How did I end up with such a wise kid?
“I think it’s going be a lot better for you, Mom.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, you can’t hide out here.” He stuffed a couple marshmallows in his mouth. “You’ll be in the village and around a lot of people. It will be good for you.”
The irony that my teenager was worried about my well-being instead of his own wasn’t lost on me. Alex had always been an old soul, but since Mac and I had broken up, he seemed even more astute. I just worried that he was holding too much. At some point, was he going to fall apart?
Perhaps.
I couldn’t shield him from pain, I could only continue to offer a listening ear and be available when and if the loss of the life he had known came crashing down.
We finished our hot chocolates and curled up on the couch to watch a couple comedy shows before heading to bed. Deep sleep had been a challenge for me lately, some of which I blamed on my mid-forties and fluctuating hormones, but it was more likely that my restless nights were due to my erratic emotions. I had tried everything from herbal supplements to a sound machine. Even my go-to natural relaxant—dried hops under my pillow—wasn’t cutting it. Tonight was no different. I could hear Alex lightly snoring as I studied the familiar bumps and marks in the ceiling. Images of Ursula and Otto plagued my brain, as did visions of Kevin lurking in the brewery and Brad’s panic-stricken face. I tried a technique that Sally had taught me when I was young where I tensed every muscle in my body and then slowly relaxed. It calmed my nervous energy, but wasn’t the answer to the elusiveness of sleep. Every time I drifted off, I would be jolted back awake by hazy nightmares of Ursula laughing maniacally.
The next morning I got an early start, finally giving up on my futile attempt at sleep when a pinkish light filtered through my bedroom windows. Sunrises were always spectacular in Leavenworth. I opened the curtains to allow the early morning light to flood the room. The first blush of the sun shimmered on the dormant hop vines and silver trellises, giving the newly fallen snow an iridescent shine. As beautiful as the farm looked under winter’s kiss, I wouldn’t miss it. That was a good sign, right?
I tugged on a pair of jeans, two pairs of socks, a long-sleeve tee, and a soft kelly green wool sweater. The color complemented my Mediterranean complexion. I moisturized my skin—a necessity during cold, crisp days like this. Then I added a touch of lip gloss and a trace of blush. I wasn’t much for makeup, but given my lack of sleep, I needed anything extra that would make me look like I wasn’t a walking zombie. Finally, I tied my dark hair into two long braids and pulled on a pair of lined snow boots.
I made coffee for me and hot apple cider and oatmeal for Alex, and packed his lunch before his alarm began to blare. We enjoyed a quick chat before heading out to get him to school. I’d never understood why high schoolers were forced to drag themselves out of bed and start their day so early. Alex’s first class began promptly at seven fifteen. Whereas the elementary school, with its early little learners who were conditioned to wake long before the sun, didn’t start until nine.
Once I dropped Alex off at school for a study group, I swung by the grocery store for bagels, juice, and fruit. I knew that at some point today or maybe tomorrow I was going to have to make a phone call to Ursula, but for the moment, I just wanted to focus on a basic task, like prepping breakfast.
Snow showers had tapered off overnight in the village as well, giving way to crystal clear blue skies. The now completely risen sun cast a bright halo on the top of Icicle Ridge, giving the mountain an angelic glow. Icy flakes glinted on the crunchy surface of yesterday’s snow as I parked the car in an empty space in front of Nitro and gathered my things. As always, the pub was dark and quiet. I went through my typical morning routine—starting pots of coffee and tea, checking our fermenting beer, and prepping breakfast. It didn’t take long to slice and toast bagels. I arranged them on a tray along with fresh fruit and the assorted containers of flavored cream cheese I had picked up at the store.
By the time I took breakfast upstairs, everyone was awake, including Garrett and Kat. There were puffy dark circles beneath Garrett’s eyelids and stubble on his cheeks. He stood near the farthest bookcase watching over our guests like a secret service agent guarding the president.
Kat’s abundant curls spilled out of her ponytail. She wore a maroon cashmere tunic over a pair of yoga pants. The color suited her youthful face. Deep dimples dotted her cheeks when she smiled and passed around packets of tea.
Garrett caught my eye, not making any attempt to be subtle. He tilted his head to the right and nodded toward the stairwell twice.
I handed the coffeepot to Kat. “You want to fill everyone’s cups?”
“Sure. As long as I can fill one for myself, too.” She reached for a ceramic mug that read LIFE IS WHAT HAPPENS BETWEEN COFFEE AND BEER.
I walked over to Garrett. “Did you need something?”
“Downstairs,” he said through clenched teeth.
Was he upset with me about something?
“What’s wrong?” I asked when we reached the bottom of the stairs. I couldn’t read his expression. His jaw muscles twitched. “Did I do something?�
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He frowned. “What?”
“Are you upset with me?”
Garrett scrunched his nose, altering the serious look on his face. “No. Why would I be upset with you?”
“Never mind. I couldn’t understand what you were trying to say, that’s all.”
“I wanted to get out of earshot from that group. I never thought I would say this, but I can’t wait for our guests to depart. Maybe the B and B concept was a bad idea.” He ran his fingers through his hair, making it even more disheveled than usual.
“No. I think these are unusual circumstances.”
“I hope you’re right.” He frowned.
“What did you want to tell me, or are you simply sick of having guests sequestered here?”
He looked up the stairs to make sure no one was listening, and then pulled me into the brewery. “I think you’re right about Kevin.”
The cavernous space was dark. I reached to flip on the lights. “Why?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night.” He yawned as if to prove his point. “You know me, once I get an idea for a new beer in my head, I can’t let it go. I woke up with an idea for a spring beer that I think you’re going to like.”
“Exciting.”
“More on that in a minute, but once I started thinking about the recipe and hop ratios, I couldn’t fall back to sleep, and I knew I had to write it down while it was fresh in my mind. This was around two in the morning. I came into the office to sketch out my thoughts. That’s when I heard someone snooping around the tasting room.”
“What?” I glanced around the gleaming stainless steel tanks, half expecting to see someone lurking behind one of the fermenters.
Garrett nodded emphatically. “Someone was up in the tasting room. They knocked over a chair. I yelled and ran up to the front to see what was going on. At first I thought maybe someone had broken in or that someone was siphoning beer from the taps.”
“And you saw Kevin,” I offered.
“No. I mean, I think so. I saw a guy bolt out of the front door. I’m sure I locked it when we closed, so whoever was in the taproom had to already be inside the building.”
Without a Brew Page 18
