by Meg Benjamin
At seven, he headed for the brewery. Even if Bec was still asleep, which was a good bet since it was Sunday morning, he could undoubtedly find something to do there until she woke up. If nothing else, he could have another taste of the saison.
As it turned out, he worked on the red ale. After all, they had orders. The sooner they could get the ale into barrels, the better.
An hour or so later, Bec emerged, yawning, from her bedroom. “Oh, good. I figured it was you rather than some insanely industrious burglar.”
He shrugged. “Thought I’d get an early start. Is Wyatt here?”
She nodded. “He’s still sleeping. Lucky him.”
Liam gave her a totally insincere smile. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” Bec sat down on the top step of the stairs that led to the brewery floor, sipping a cup of coffee. “How did the closing night at the tavern go?”
Liam paused. Amazingly enough, he’d managed to forget all about the bar closing down the night before. “Okay, I guess. We closed down early.”
“No party?”
“Nope. Stanton never showed and the rest of us didn’t feel much like celebrating.” He turned back to the red ale. He refused to let the fate of Black Mountain Tavern bring him down from his Ruth-produced high.
“What’s next?”
“Well, there’s the offer to run the bar in Park City. That’s about it.”
Bec gave him a stricken look, lowering her coffee cup. “You’re still moving to Utah? Right away?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to, but it’s a good job.”
“What about Antero Brewing?” She paused. “What about Ruth?”
Good questions. “Like I said, I don’t want to. I’ve thought of something else that might work, but I wanted to go over it with you.”
“Something else? Like what?”
He squared his shoulders. He’d been tossing the idea around for the last day or so, and it had finally begun to take firm shape. He wasn’t sure whether it was logical or insane, but he had to at least try it out. “Is Wyatt still looking to open a pub here in town?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Once he finalizes the sale of his half of Quaff. He’s already lining up backers.”
“Has he found a place yet?”
“Not that I know of. He hasn’t really started looking yet.”
He gave her a long look. “What about Black Mountain Tavern?”
“What about it?” Her eyes widened. “You mean as a pub? Our pub?”
He nodded. “It’s a good space. Stanton let it go downhill, but it could be brought up to speed pretty easily. The bar is first-rate. If he wanted to go the whole gastropub route, the kitchen would need an upgrade, but it’s decent, too.”
She frowned. “What about the rent?”
“The place belongs to Tag Murphy. I talked to him for a while yesterday. Stanton left him in a bind when he pulled out, particularly since the place needs to be refurbished. He was pretty stoked about the brewpub idea. He said he’d work with us on the rent—he might be interested in investing. I’d leave that to Wyatt.”
Bec paused for a long time, thinking. “It’s an interesting idea. The tavern’s got a good location.”
“It’s prime. Right downtown. With a little work we might be able to have it ready by ski season.”
She nodded. “Maybe. Depending on how long the negotiations take. Are you thinking of this as a brewpub for Antero Brewing?”
“Absolutely. We could do some small batch brewing that would be exclusive to the pub, along with our main lines, like the red ale. We’d have to bring in some other beers along with ours to fill out the menu, but ours would be in the spotlight.” He took a breath. “I could tend bar.”
She shook her head impatiently. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can hire a bartender. You’d be manager. One thing I picked up from watching Wyatt at Quaff—you need a couple of people to make a large operation succeed. You could work with Wyatt and his partners to get everything set up. The two of you would make a good management team. He’s got a lot of experience from managing Quaff, but you’ve got a lot of experience with the tourists who visit Antero.”
Liam gave her a careful smile. “That works for me. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a great idea. In fact, I’m going to go wake Wyatt up before I forget the details. Stay here—we’ll be right back.”
Liam’s smile turned dry. “I’ll be here. Trust me—there’s nowhere else I want to go.”
With one significant exception.
…
Ruth texted David first thing in the morning, asking him to come by the house for lunch. The Salty Goat was closed on Sunday, and usually she took the time to do laundry and clean the place. This time, she was almost too nervous to clean, but she did manage to straighten up the kitchen where they’d probably spend most of their time.
Carol had been sentenced to laundry detail, along with several other punishments ranging from an Xbox ban to extra hours at the deli where Ruth could keep an eye on her. She accepted them all meekly enough. Ruth couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or a sign that she was plotting a counterattack. She just hoped her daughter would hold off for a while until she’d managed to gather her wits for her own response.
She’d called David back the night before when she’d discovered where Carol had gone. David had been both annoyed and confused when she’d told him Carol had turned up, but she couldn’t help that. She was probably in for an extended bitch session. And maybe she deserved one.
At eleven, she began to consider what she could serve for lunch. Sunday was also the day she usually went grocery shopping, so pickings were sort of slim around the house. In the end, she heated a pan of soup and found some of Angel Lomax’s bread. At least she always had goat cheese on hand. And if David didn’t like it, so what?
He arrived promptly at eleven thirty, looking faintly wary as he strode into the hall. Carol had let him in but apparently hadn’t said much beyond hello. They sat at the kitchen table and managed a desultory conversation, until they’d finished the soup and cheese.
Ruth took a breath. “Carol, go upstairs now. Your dad and I need to talk.”
Carol slid out of her seat, but then stood in the doorway, frowning.
“What?” Ruth asked with a sinking feeling.
“I’ve got something to say before I go.” Carol turned resolutely toward her father. “I still want to visit you in California, but not if you think I’m weird or something.”
David stared at her blankly. “Weird? I don’t think you’re weird. Where did you get that idea?” He glanced toward Ruth, as if he suspected she might be the source of Carol’s information.
Ruth shook her head. “She was standing on the stairs when we had our argument. She misunderstood.”
“Damn straight she misunderstood.” David pushed himself to his feet. “I don’t think you’re weird. You’re my daughter. I think you’re great. We just need to get to know each other better. That’s all.”
Carol gave him a doubtful look. “Maybe.”
David glanced back at Ruth again. “Are you sure you haven’t said anything to her?”
“And that’s another thing,” Carol cut in. “You need to stop being mean to my mom. She’s a great mom, and you’re hurting her feelings.”
This time David frowned. “Okay. Anything else?”
Carol shook her head. “I’ll go finish packing. You need to get me an airplane ticket.”
David nodded. “Already taken care of. We’ll drive to Denver this afternoon and fly out to L.A. tomorrow.”
Ruth narrowed her eyes. “When exactly were you planning on sharing this with me?”
“Right about now.” David shrugged. “I figured I might as well go ahead and make plans.”
Ruth blew out a long breath. Her rational side was screaming at her not to let it happen, but she’d sort of reached the limit of her determination last night. “Okay, Carol. Go pack your stuff. I’ll come up
to check in a few minutes.”
David stared after Carol as she left the room. “That was interesting. Does she do that a lot?”
“You mean stand up for herself and tell people what she thinks? Yeah, she does that quite a bit.”
David narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t talk about this beforehand? This wasn’t your idea?”
She sighed. David assumed she was behind things because he didn’t know his daughter. “No, David, that wasn’t my idea. That was Carol expressing her point of view. Something she does regularly. She’s never been a particularly docile child, and I have a feeling that personality trait’s going to get worse as she gets older.”
David leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think she’s weird. I don’t remember what I said, but I know I didn’t say that. You need to know that.”
“I’m not the one who thought that. You’re going to need to convince Carol.”
David sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’ve never met a kid like her before.”
“Well, you’ll have some time to get to know this one.” She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. “I need all the travel information—when you’re leaving and when her flight will get back. And I think a week is long enough for a first visit.”
She steeled herself for another argument, but he shrugged again. “A week works for me.”
“And childcare?”
But apparently, David had reached his limit on being reasonable. “Jessica’s great. She’ll be fine.” He folded his arms across his chest, apparently ready for a battle.
Ruth frowned—was it worth a fight? Maybe not. Or anyway, not until Carol came home and told her more about Jessica and her role in David’s household. “Okay.”
David nodded. “Right. I’ll go get my luggage at the hotel and then pick Carol up. Should be about a half hour or so.”
“Okay, I’ll try to make sure she’s ready.”
Carol was sitting on her bed, her closed suitcase on the floor beside her feet. “I need to see what you packed,” Ruth said.
Carol looked like she might object, but then she shrugged. Ruth opened the suitcase and checked through the clothes. “You’ll need more underwear than this. And you won’t need that sweater. It’s warm in L.A.”
“But the sweater’s pretty.”
Ruth nodded. “It’s very pretty, but it takes up too much space and you won’t wear it. Let’s find some other stuff that’s also pretty, but a little more practical.” She headed for the closet. If Carol wanted to go girly for this trip, she’d do her best to help out.
Fifteen minutes later, Carol was packed, her suitcase sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Ruth slipped into her own room, then came back again carrying a new cell phone. “I got you this yesterday at the mall.” She handed it to Carol.
Carol stared down. “It’s a phone.”
“Right. There’s an instruction book. I can get it if you want.”
Carol shook her head. “I don’t need it. Jeannie has one just like it. I even know how to charge it.” She pressed the on button. “This is so cool.”
“Glad you think so.” Ruth took the phone from her hand and pressed one of the on-screen icons. “There’s my number. I entered it in your contacts. I want you to call me every day. Tell me everything that’s happening.” And tell me you’re okay.
David’s car pulled to the curb in front. Her baby was going away, and she needed to hold it together, even though she really wanted to hang on to her for all she was worth.
She leaned down to give her daughter a tight hug. “You be you, sweetheart. But please try to make it the best version of you that you can.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Carol whispered. “I’ll do that.” And she opened the door for her father.
…
Liam waited until late afternoon before he headed for Ruth’s house. He thought he’d look around on the street for Mobley’s sports car, and if he didn’t see it, he’d assume the all-clear had been posted. Mobley didn’t strike him as the type to walk anywhere he could drive.
He might have brought a pizza, but he had something else he wanted to show her, and a pizza might only complicate matters.
No sports car was parked anywhere around the house. He climbed the steps to the front porch and raised his hand to knock.
The front door swung open before he had a chance. “Hi,” said Ruth.
“Hi.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, any more than he could think of anything he wanted to do more than stare at her. Her short, dark hair was slightly mussed, as usual, and her velvet eyes were brilliant in the late afternoon sunlight. It occurred to him that he could be happy staring at her for the rest of the night. Only she might not be equally happy with being stared at. “Can I come in? I’ve got something for you.”
“Sure.” She stepped back from the door to let him pass, then followed him into the kitchen. “What’s up?”
He placed his paper sack on the kitchen counter, then withdrew the bottle he’d filled at the brewery. “I’ve got something I want you to try.”
Her forehead furrowed. “What is it?”
“It’s a saison I made a while ago. Lemon and basil.”
“Then I’d say it’s time.” She turned to the cupboard and pulled down a couple of glasses. They weren’t beer glasses, but he didn’t care at that point.
He picked up the bottle and poured carefully. Pale gold with a good cap of foam. He waited for her to pick up her glass, then raised his own to his lips and sipped.
Clean, crisp, with the faintest trace of basil on his tongue and the shimmer of citrus at the end. Just as good today as it had been last night.
“Oh my God, that’s good,” Ruth murmured.
“Good for a hot day,” he said slowly. “On a shady patio. With somebody sitting beside you that you really care about.”
She gave him a long look. “Poetic.”
“True. I made it for you. I thought it was for your cheese, and it sort of is. But it’s mostly for you. I want to call it Ruth’s Saison.”
She sighed. “You know we can’t serve it. The Goat doesn’t have a liquor license.”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll serve it at the pub. And if anybody asks, I’ll tell them to check out the real Ruth down the street.”
She took another sip of saison. “What pub is this?”
“That’s another thing I need to tell you about. It’s looking like I’m going to stay in Antero. Maybe we can do dinner. Where’s Carol?”
At least Ruth was smiling. He hoped it was because of the news he’d just blurted out. “Probably about to Denver by now.”
His eyes widened. “What did I miss?”
“Just about everything, but that’s another thing we can discuss over dinner. Or maybe before.” Her lips curved up. “You’re staying, and suddenly I have the evening free.”
“By coincidence, so do I.” He placed his glass on the counter, then reached for her, pulling her into his arms to feel the warm weight of her body against his. He rested his forehead against her hair. “You really like the saison?”
“I love the saison. Thank you so much for naming it after me.”
“I didn’t just name it for you. I made it for you.” He pulled back to look at her again. “A lesser man would have given you roses. I’m giving you your own saison.”
“I promise I’ll make you some special cheese.” She reached up to touch his cheek. “Thanks for being here, and for putting up with me for the past week. I don’t think I could have gotten through all of this on my own. I definitely couldn’t have gotten through last night.”
He turned his head, pressing his lips to her palm. “You don’t need to get through things on your own. I’m here. And I’ll stay here. That is, if you’ll let me.”
“I’ll let you. I want you, too. I think I’m in love with you.” She swallowed hard, as if she wasn’t sure telling him that had been a good idea.
Which was purely ridiculous. “That works out well then,
because I know I’m in love with you.” He pulled her close again, running his hand down the smooth curve of her spine as he pressed his lips to hers, tasting saison and sweet essence of Ruth.
She pulled away. “It’s not going to be easy. I come with lots of baggage, you know. A soon-to-be-teenage daughter and an ex-husband who’ll probably show up regularly. Not to mention, Peaches and a ton of goat cheese.”
He brought his hands to her hips, pulling her body to his again. “Is that all you’ve got? Because that’s easy. I’ll raise you a struggling brewery and a hypothetical brewpub with a hypothetical job. Bring it on, babe. Just bring it on.”
“That’s all I’ve got at the moment. I’ll think about it.”
“Maybe we could come up with some other things to think about if you’re up for it.”
He smiled down at her. His. His Ruth, his problems, all of it, his.
“I’m up for it. I’m definitely up for it.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Good. Let’s get started then. We’ve got all night, after all. And a lot of time after that. Even if you have to get up at the goddamn crack of dawn.”
She nodded ruefully. “And another problem rears its ugly head.”
“Not a problem. An opportunity, babe. Always an opportunity.”
He grabbed the bottle of saison. Then he followed her up the hall to her bedroom. “I still owe you a foot rub, don’t I?”
She turned, her lips curving up in a smile that made his pulse jump. “We can start there. We’ve got a lot of things to try.”
Liam blew out a breath as he followed her into the bedroom. They had a lot of things to try. And suddenly, they had all the time in the world.
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Acknowledgments
Many thanks to my critique partner, Teri Wilson, for all her helpful advice; and to my editor, Tera Cuskaden, for the long hours and hard work; and to my agent, Latoya Smith, for shepherding this project. Also many thanks to the citizens of Crested Butte, Colorado, the model for Antero—their lovely town should be on everyone’s list of Great Places To Visit.
