by Liz Crowe
“Yes, thank you, Frau Poller.” He used her formal name, since she did the same to him and Elle, and only allowed Liesl to use her Christian name in private. When he glanced down at her, he saw that she’d dropped the backpack and was scurrying up a pile of wooden pallets under a line of large windows. He sighed, shrugged at the nanny, then walked over to pluck her down before she pulled the whole lot of them onto herself.
“Come and say goodbye to Frau Poller, Liesl,” he insisted, putting her down on the concrete floor and giving her a tiny push forward.
She treated him to a look over her shoulder that only served to remind him how furious he’d been at her mother earlier. He pointed. She trudged across the expanse of floor strewn with packaging material, plastic wrapping and what remained of the wooden crate that had held his new toy.
Liesl stood in front of her nanny and held out her hand. The woman shook it, then crouched so they were on eye level. They spoke too softly for Ross to hear but he was pleased to note that Liesl gave the woman a quick hug. When she rose and left through the back door it was without another word to him.
“If I’m a good girl, we’ll make ice cream.”
“Okay then. You like her now?”
“Yes,” the girl said matter-of-factly, making her way onto the metal platform again so she could peer at the various valves, connections and other fascinating items on the pilot system. She ran her small fingers over each fitting then stood to meet his eyes. “This only makes a little beers, Papa.”
“It will let me make small batches, my sweetling,” he said, standing next to her while she gave everything another touch. “That way, if it’s garbage and I have to throw it away, it doesn’t waste too many ingredients.”
“Garbage?” She put a hand to her chest.
“Stop flattering me, you little…” He grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder. As he was reaching for her discarded backpack a door creaked open.
“Is that my tiny little muffin girl?” Elle sang out into the room.
The sound of her voice set his pulse racing until he reminded himself of their earlier argument. A sickening combination of embarrassment, fury and frustration made his gut churn. He set his jaw against her and their usual family Friday evening ritual.
“Is that her? And her handsome Papa?”
Ross put Liesl down so she could run to her mother but he remained where he was, turning away from them to begin gathering up all the packing detritus. His face was flaming hot and he heard the echo of his heartbeat in his ears but he was so confused about how he felt—other than ill over what he’d said to her—he couldn’t face her.
Besides, he had work to do. He’d planned to christen the new pilot system with something special, something just for Elisa—or, he supposed, for himself now, considering she wouldn’t even look at him, much less talk to him. He stuffed the garbage into the bin and listened to his little girl chatter away in a fascinating mix of German and English, while already concocting the recipe in his head. This was his favorite moment—the head writing, the creation, the visualization of his next batch of beer, be it a mere ten gallons like this one, or a thousand, or even five thousand gallons.
He and Elisa had always talked about how much they loved a crisp, clean Kölsch. It was a deceptively complex style, harder to master than it appeared, and one of the purest forms of German brewing other than a Helles, in his not-too-humble opinion. Of course, he had something special and different in mind for his recipe—something that his Elisa would claim to hate but come to love. He was certain of it.
Or he had been.
He shook his head at himself, in awe of the freakishly high level of stupidity he’d managed to reveal today. He’d been angry, sure. And he’d allowed it to build in him alongside the confusion about her reluctance regarding setting a damn wedding date. So he’d let his dumb-assery fly free, talking before he’d had a half a chance at considering his words.
Jesus, but I’m an idiot sometimes.
He glanced up after about thirty minutes spent making the correct connections and cleaning out the three metal vessels. He wanted to get the brew going tomorrow, first thing. It took at least four weeks to ferment and he preferred to let it rest another week at least, if not two prior to serving it. But the sounds of Liesl’s charming giggle and Elisa’s low mumble of words he couldn’t hear was driving him nuts. With a sigh, he rose and wiped the sweat off his face, deciding he could leave the rest for tomorrow. He’d bring Liesl with him, he decided. It was high time she learned her parents’ craft.
“Hungry?” Elle asked him while keeping her gaze on the girl in her arms.
“Do you still have the schnitzel?” He wasn’t sure if she’d changed over the menus yet. They’d determined that rotating the cultures that Komfort featured each month would give them excuses for fresh promotional activity. But even when he thought hard about it, Ross couldn’t recall the last time he’d asked her about the menu, or anything regarding the restaurant. He’d been caught up, resuming his life as the rock star craft brewer, the well-paid consultant who’d swoop in and declare that whatever place had hired him was either in great shape, but for a few tweaks, or in need of a complete overhaul.
They always listened to him. And paid his fee gratefully.
It had been a relief, going back to work. Even turning the child over to the terrifying German governess hadn’t been as hard as he’d thought it would be, despite having been her primary caregiver for the first year of her life. Liesl had forced her way into the world several weeks early, leaving them to endure a gut-wrenching week spent staring at her through a plastic barrier until they were allowed to hold her. Once that had happened, once he’d been able to cradle his baby girl in his arms, she’d begun to thrive and had been released well before the medical types’ best estimates.
Renovating and preparing to open a damn restaurant while Elisa had been pregnant then opening it while she had still been nursing had been a challenge. But he’d declared himself the keeper of baby Liesl and had enjoyed his time spent with her. That did not change the fact that when he’d returned to his job, it hadn’t been a huge relief.
“Yes, I’m keeping the schnitzel for a while longer,” Elle said softly, startling him.
He’d forgotten he’d asked. He put a hand on her shoulder, sensed her stiffen and removed it, shoving it into his jeans pocket. Liesl looked from his face to her mother’s, her lips pursed. He attempted to let go of his own tension, to accept that he was responsible for half of the problem given his admittedly selfish responses about all the time Elisa gave to the restaurant. Not to mention the stupid thing he’d said this morning, right after defiling their drywall with his temper tantrum.
“Mac and cheese,” Liesl proclaimed, tugging Ross closer. “Family hug.” She put her arms around both of their necks.
Ross rested his hand in the small of Elisa’s back, grateful for the excuse to touch her for a few seconds, then he let go, unwilling to own his anger, lest it poison what was left of their usual Friday family evening.
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About the Author
Amazon best-selling author, mom of three, Realtor, beer blogger, brewery marketing expert, and soccer fan, Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the University of Louisville currently living in Ann Arbor. She has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse.
With stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch, in successful real estate offices and at times in exotic locales like Istanbul, Turkey, her books are unique and told with a fresh voice. The Liz Crowe backlist has something for any reader seeking complex storylines with humor and complete casts of characters that will delight, frustrate and linger in the imagination long after the book is finished.
Don’t ever ask her for anything “like a Budweiser” or risk bodily injury.
Email: [email protected]
Liz loves to hear f
rom readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.
Also by Liz Crowe
Brewing Passion: Tapped
Brewing Passion: Lightstruck
Brewing Passion: Conditioned
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