by Meg Benjamin
The brew pot would need to boil for at least an hour before he did anything else. He set the timer and gave the mixture another quick stir. He’d keep stirring the brew regularly over the next hour, making sure that it stayed at a low boil. When it had boiled for the right amount of time, he’d add his spices to make it a true saison.
Bec came in as he was giving the mixture another stir with his brew spoon. She raised an eyebrow. “Are you still trying to do a saison?”
He nodded. “Getting the wort going.”
“Did you add sugar?”
Of course, I added sugar. But she had a right to ask—he hadn’t been brewing on his own for a couple of years. “A little piloncillo. I don’t want to make it too sweet. We’re going for balance here.”
She nodded. “What about hops?”
“I’ve got a mixture. Some of Booker’s special along with some Northern. A little of this, a little of that.”
One eyebrow arched up. “Yeast?”
“Belgian. White Labs.”
“Okay.” She rubbed the back of her neck, frowning as she ran through her mental checklist. “What about spices?”
This was where things got interesting. Or dicey, depending on how Bec felt. “I want to try dried lemon peel and dried basil. Maybe a few peppercorns, too. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. I’m only doing around five gallons here.”
Bec sighed. “Far be it from me to discourage experimentation, but that sounds a little edgy. Keep track of the amounts. If it’s good, we might want to be able to do it again at a larger volume. If it doesn’t work, we can always figure out something different.”
“Yes, ma’am, brewmaster.” He managed not to sound too annoyed. She was in charge, after all. “I’ll give you first taste. After mine.”
Bec picked up a clean apron from the rack at the side, wrapping it around herself. “You got Ruth a new cook?”
He nodded. “Peaches. From the tavern. She’s good.”
“Great. What does Tim Stanton think about this?”
Liam’s smile curdled slightly. “I don’t know yet. I’ll find out when I go to work this afternoon.” He wasn’t looking forward to meeting with Stanton—he wanted to hang on to his job at the tavern for as long as he could to take care of expenses. And he also liked the place, although he definitely had his doubts about the direction Stanton was heading.
“I’m guessing he won’t be pleased.”
“I’m guessing you’re right.” He gave another stir to the brew kettle, checking his timer. “Want to help me lauter after I add the spices?”
Bec grimaced. Lautering involved siphoning off the liquid and then cooling it. It was a pain in the ass. But she shrugged. “Sure. You’ve helped me enough times.”
He’d been doing pretty much all the scut work she’d needed done over the last few months. He hadn’t resented it at the time, but he had to admit, he was a little tired of doing it. “If this works out, maybe we can add it to the production for next spring.”
Bec frowned slightly. “Maybe. We’ll see where we are when spring rolls around.”
He gave the brew kettle another hard stir. The real question was where he’d be himself come spring. And if he’d have any say in what happened to Antero Brewing after he left for Utah.
…
Black Mountain Tavern seemed unnaturally still when he came to work at four that afternoon. It wasn’t usually lively at that time of day, but the whole place was sort of hushed, as if people were moving on tiptoe. Even the customers were more subdued than usual. They sat in the booths, leaning close together so that their conversations weren’t overheard.
He motioned one of the waitresses, Nora, to the side of the bar. “What’s going on?”
She shrugged. “Not much. Sort of quiet.”
“Has Stanton been in?”
She nodded. “Earlier this afternoon. I wasn’t here, but Joy said he was mad.”
Uh-oh. “Mad at who?”
“Pretty much everybody. You know how he is. He was yelling at the top of his lungs.”
Liam knew exactly how Stanton was—famous for blowing up at anything that didn’t go exactly his way. He was guessing the news about Peaches wasn’t making him a happy camper. “Is Peaches in the kitchen?”
“Somebody’s back there cooking. If it isn’t Peaches, who would it be?”
“Good question.” He poured a couple of drafts for one of the other waitresses, then headed back to the swinging kitchen door, pausing to listen for anything unusual, such as Stanton bellowing like a wounded rhinoceros. Then again, a bellowing Stanton wasn’t all that unusual.
He stepped into the cramped Black Mountain kitchen a little warily.
Peaches stood across from him, chopping up a pile of lettuce. Her face was slightly flushed, but the hand wielding the chef’s knife was steady.
Fortunately.
“Hey,” he said.
Peaches glanced back at him with a half smile, then went back to chopping. “Hey yourself.”
“I heard Stanton flew off the handle when you told him you were leaving.”
“He threw a fit. Lots of yelling. Fortunately I told him in his office, so when he tossed stuff on the floor, it was mostly paper. If we’d been in here, I might not have been able to fix dinner when he got through.”
“Any problems beyond the noise?”
She shrugged again. “He fired me. Told me to get out of his place. I told him I’d leave after dinner tonight. No way I’m going to make Misty and the other girls suffer just because he can’t control his temper.”
This struck Liam as going above and beyond the cause of fairness, but it was typical of Peaches’s code of ethics. “That’s nice of you. Have you told Ruth yet?”
“I don’t want to make her take me on now if she isn’t ready for me yet. Maybe I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
Liam was pretty sure Ruth wouldn’t have any problems with taking Peaches on early. If anything, she’d probably have been glad to put Peaches to work today, but she was right about the waitresses and their tips. “Who’s going to cook here now? Any idea?”
“Mr. Stanton said he was going to go out and hire somebody this afternoon.”
That sounded like Stanton was going to grab somebody off the street. Given the way he’d cut back on spending at the tavern, whoever he brought in wouldn’t have the best of ingredients to work with. Peaches had been spinning gold out of straw for weeks now, but Liam doubted most cooks had the knack. The future suddenly looked rockier.
He sighed. Black Mountain Tavern had a great location and a loyal clientele, but there were only so many problems they could handle at once. “I’m sorry he gave you grief. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble when I took you to the Salty Goat.”
“You didn’t get me into trouble. You got me into a job. A really great job.” Peaches gave him a gleaming smile. “I wouldn’t have stayed here much longer, anyway—it was kind of a rotten job, to tell you the truth. And the pay wasn’t all that good. And I’ve got a feeling this place won’t last much longer. When the chance came to work at the Salty Goat, it just kind of pushed me along a little faster.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.” He started back toward the kitchen door. “Better go check to see if anybody needs any beer.”
“Watch out for Mr. Stanton.”
Fortunately, Stanton wasn’t around when Liam reemerged into the bar. Maybe he was on the prowl for a new cook.
Liam pulled a tray of clean glasses out of the dishwasher and began arranging them on the rack above the bar. He was just about to pick up the second tray when he heard someone clear her throat.
He turned around quickly, ready to serve a customer, only to see Carol seated at the end of the bar again. He closed his eyes, muttering a prayer for patience. “Kid, like I said before, you can’t be in here. Absolutely cannot. Okay? It’s against all kinds of regulations.”
Carol shook her head. “How else was I going to let you know I was here? I need to talk to y
ou. We could go back out in front again.”
Liam sighed. It was probably better to go out front and risk getting yelled at for wasting time than to stay in here and take the risk that Stanton would see him talking to an underage patron. “Okay, come on.”
On the front porch, Carol once again flopped down on one of the dusty chairs.
“What’s up?”
She gave him a considering look. “You did a great job getting rid of Barbara Jean. My mom was humming in the kitchen this morning.”
Liam was ridiculously pleased to hear that Ruth was happy. Her good humor must be based on more than just getting rid of Barbara Jean, though. “I didn’t really get rid of Barbara Jean, kid. You had more to do with that than I did.”
Carol nodded. “That’s true, in a way. But you did have another cook standing by. That was important.”
That had been vital, but also karma. “I’m glad everything worked out. Anything else?”
Carol nodded slowly. “Actually, there is. I need to know what you’re going to do next with my mom.”
Liam blinked. All kinds of answers whipped through his mind, most of them not suitable for sharing with young ladies of twelve. Particularly not when the woman in question was the young lady’s mother. “What do you mean?”
“I mean are you going to take her out, or what? I thought this whole thing with Barbara Jean and Peaches was supposed to be a step toward dating her.”
Liam blew out a breath, feeling the tension in his shoulders subside. “We’re going out on Thursday. I’m taking her to dinner.”
“That’s good, the dinner part. She’ll have to find a sitter, which is kind of a pain because I really don’t need one, but there are lots of high-school girls around who’d like to make a little money. So she’ll probably find someone. What about after that?”
Liam’s head felt as if he’d done a quick three-sixty. Carol had sort of a dizzying effect. “After your mom finds a sitter?”
“No, after you take her out this Thursday. What do you want to do next?”
The innuendos here were getting a little too hard to handle. “Look, kid, I’m on it, okay? If it’s humanly possible, I’ll convince your mom to go out with me again.”
Carol nodded slowly. “Yeah, but you might need my help. She gets hung up on work. You’ll need to convince her she can take time off and still get things done.”
Against his better judgment he was curious. “How would you convince her of that?”
“I’m not sure, but we need to work on it. The thing is, you have to make her like you.”
A lot of different comments floated through his head, including you think she doesn’t like me? Why not? However, he was saved by a sudden onslaught of good sense. “That sounds like a good idea. But I think she likes me already.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Carol shrugged. “She’s real polite. She might just be pretending to like you because she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
Liam frowned. The kid was making him uneasy. “Has she said anything to make you think she doesn’t like me?”
She shrugged again. “Nope. But we don’t talk about you that much. She hasn’t had a chance.”
Another body blow. “Okay, well, I’ll work on it.”
Carol nodded, then her forehead furrowed. “Do you like her?”
Liam blinked. “Your mom?”
Carol gave him a dry look. “Yes, my mom.”
He considered all the different meanings of the word like, and what he might be committing himself to here. The hell with it. “Yeah. I like your mom a lot.”
Carol nodded absently. “Okay, then. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be in touch.” She pushed herself to her feet again, brushing off her shorts. “See you.”
“Right.” He watched her head down the street toward her house, then turned back inside the tavern. With any luck, Stanton would show up and start screaming at him. That would at least be preferable to wondering whether Ruth Colbert liked him or not.
When had he magically been transported to middle school? Having Carol in his life had definitely weirded things up a bit.
…
Ruth hung up the phone, dropping it back in her purse and fighting down a wholly inappropriate grin. Peaches had been fired. She’d be joining the Salty Goat tomorrow morning. Ruth had promised to open up for her at seven so that she could get some muffins going for the morning coffee break and the bed and breakfasts.
They hadn’t had any fresh muffins available since Honoria had left. The smell of them baking alone ought to increase their morning crowd by at least half.
Of course, she was sorry Tim Stanton had been nasty to Peaches. She didn’t deserve that. If he wanted to rail at someone, he could come to the Salty Goat and rail at her. Ruth was more his size, anyway. The next meeting of the Antero Merchants Association should be lively, given that they were both members and Stanton had never been known for his restraint. Maybe Ruth would tell him what a jerk he was for yelling at a sweetheart like Peaches.
The front door slammed shut, and Ruth leaned out into the hall. “Carol?”
“I’m home.” She stepped into the kitchen as Ruth returned to making meatballs. “Is that for supper?”
“Some. Some I’m going to freeze.”
“Okay.” She leaned back against the kitchen counter, regarding the meatballs with a critical eye. “What do you want me to do?”
“You can make the salad and put the water on to boil for the spaghetti.”
Carol opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of lettuce. Ruth was teaching her to cook a little at a time, although boiling water didn’t count.
“Where were you?” she asked.
“Walking around. No place special.”
That sounded ominously vague, but Ruth let it go. “I’m going out on Thursday. Bunny’s going to stay with you.”
Carol raised her eyebrows. “Where are you going?”
“To dinner. With Liam Dempsey.” She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
Carol frowned but said nothing as she picked up a basket of cherry tomatoes. Maybe they could avoid the whole Liam Dempsey discussion until some other time.
“Do you like him?” Carol asked.
Or not.
“Yes, I do. Do you?”
“He’s okay. Why do you like him?”
“Why?” Ruth frowned. Why would she ask? “Are you concerned about him for some reason?”
Carol shook her head. “I’m just curious. I want to know why people like people.”
Great time to become philosophical. “He’s easy to talk to. He seems like a nice guy. Bec speaks highly of him.”
“Bec’s his sister.”
“True, but brothers and sisters don’t always get along.”
“So it’s just that he’s nice? That doesn’t seem like enough. I mean, there are a lot of nice people in town, and you don’t go to dinner with them.”
“They didn’t ask me,” Ruth said tartly. “Liam did.”
“If somebody else asked you, would you go out with them?”
Oh for the love of heaven… “I like Liam. I’m looking forward to going out with him. You sound like you’ve got something against him.”
“Nope. Just checking.” Carol dumped the halved tomatoes into the bowl of lettuce, then turned the burner on underneath the pan of water she’d filled earlier.
“Checking what?”
But apparently Carol was through with the discussion. “I’m going to go watch Friends.” She disappeared through the door to the living room.
Ruth closed her eyes. That was a surreal conversation. Fortunately, she hadn’t had to go over the real reasons she was looking forward to dinner with Liam, since they had nothing to do with dinner and everything to do with what came afterward.
Chapter Eleven
Peaches appeared promptly at seven thirty the next morning, beaming happily. Ruth let her in and began making coffee in their largest urn. She
had a feeling they’d be busy.
Having Peaches working in the kitchen gave her a chance to be in the cheese room when her brother Brett showed up later with the daily milk delivery. She helped him get the milk into the cooler and the holding tank where she’d add the rennet and get the day’s batch working. “How are things at the farm?”
Brett paused, frowning. “Okay, I guess. How long has it been since I talked to you last?”
“I’m not sure—a couple of weeks?” It might have been longer than that. While she’d been dealing with her Barbara Jean crisis in the deli, she’d barely had time to say more than good morning while the delivery was being made.
Having a chance to talk qualified as a luxury, even if the conversation did mostly revolve around dealing with a rented billy goat whose presence could make the milk turn gamey if they weren’t careful. “But we got a couple of pregnant nans out of it,” he concluded. “And the arrangement works—Earl gets some income for his billy, and I don’t have to keep one around full time.”
Ruth nodded as she pulled on her white overalls. “As long as you can keep the milk as sweet as usual, having a randy billy around doesn’t bother me.”
Brett grinned in her direction. “Keeps the nans happy, that’s for sure.”
Well, it would. Ruth hoped her cheeks weren’t flaming quite as much as she suspected they were.
“How’s Carol?”
“Fine. Well, okay. She’s still mad about the California trip.”
“Asshole should have cleared it with you first.” Brett and David had never exactly gotten along. “Why don’t you have her come out to the farm for a couple of days? Ginger’d be glad for the company now that Will’s headed off to college. He’s got orientation this week, but he’ll probably stay down in Fort Collins for a few days after that.” Ginger, Brett’s wife, was currently in the early throes of empty-nest syndrome.
“Carol would like that. She hasn’t been to the farm much this summer.” Ruth would like it, too, since it would give her a free night with Liam.
“Okay, I’ll come by this evening and pick her up. You can call me if there are any problems.”
