Pride and Porters

by Charlotte Greene

  Pride and Porters

  For Erin and Jen Bennet, growing up in craft-beer-obsessed Colorado made opening Bennet Sisters Brewing their only dream. Their beer is popular, but like any small business, their brewery is never far from closing forever.

  When Boston brewer Charlie Betters and his friend Darcy Fitzwilliam ask for their help, the Bennet sisters are happy for the attractive distractions. Life, after all, is more than making beer. Still, while Charlie and Jen seem to be made for each other, Darcy’s pretentiousness and her cruel remarks make a bad first impression.

  Despite this, and almost against her will, Erin finds herself attracted to Darcy, but events out of their control result in a misunderstanding that might ruin the chances for love for both couples.

  Pride and Porters

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  Pride and Porters

  © 2018 By Charlotte Greene. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13:978-1-63555-159-4

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: April 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design by Tammy Seidick

  By the Author

  A Palette for Love

  Love in Disaster

  Canvas for Love

  Pride and Porters

  Acknowledgments

  Shortly after seeing a big-screen movie adaptation of one of Jane Austen’s novels, I used my allowance to buy a big compendium of her works, reading it over and over again throughout my teens. Austen was one of several authors that inspired me to become an English professor, and her works remain among my favorites to this day. I’ve had the privilege to teach her novels—including my favorite, Pride and Prejudice—to adoring undergraduates at various universities several times. Over two hundred years later, and her works are still among the best novels and romances ever written. This novel is a fan letter to her.

  My hometown, The City of Loveland, Colorado, also deserves special recognition as the main setting and inspiration for this novel. Residents might note that I played around with the geography of the city slightly for my own purposes, but all of the locations except for BSB are, in fact, places you can and should visit. BSB was, however, inspired by my very favorite brewery, Loveland Aleworks. Their raspberry sour remains my very favorite beer.

  My editor, Shelley Thrasher, as always, deserves my endless thanks for pulling this story from the morass that was the first submission.

  And finally, to my lovely wife, who gave me the original idea and the title, as well as her usual endless support.

  Dedication

  For you, always.

  Chapter One

  Autumn along the Front Range is ever-changing, unfixed. Northern Colorado weather is notoriously fickle year-round, with extreme variance from one day to the next, but these extremes are never more obvious than the weeks before the first snowfall. This autumn, however, was what they once referred to as an Indian Summer. Unlike nearly every October that had passed before it, there had yet to be a hard frost by the first weekend, and the weeks before had been a uniformly pleasant mid-seventies. You can expect daily sunshine in most parts of the state, which meant that this Saturday afternoon, with the pleasant temperature and bright, almost cloudless sky, just about everyone in the state of Colorado was outside riding a bike.

  The weather was particularly lucky for the Oktoberfest at Bennet Sisters Brewing (BSB), located less than a block from the Loveland bike path. The sounds of live accordion music and the smell of roasting bratwurst from the festival called cyclists riding by, siren-like. By mid-afternoon, every bike rack in a three-block radius of BSB was filled with the bikes of people stopping by “just a few minutes” for a beer and a brat. Most of them ended up staying all afternoon.

  The Bennet sisters had opened BSB two years ago. In a brewery market of near-saturation in their small city, they had managed to keep their heads above water almost entirely because of their proximity to the path. Unlike several of the other breweries and tasting rooms nearby, they were located on the opposite side of the train tracks on Fourth Street, almost five blocks from the nearest restaurant. Their rent was less than in downtown proper, but there was far less foot traffic than the more popular downtown blocks. Without the bike path, they would have been forced to close down long ago. As it was, they were still struggling, and special events like Oktoberfest were critical to their ongoing success.

  By four o’clock that afternoon, they had brought in more money than the whole of September. Earlier, Erin had called every single staff person they employed, and even then, she’d been forced to ask her friend Lottie to lend a hand.

  Everyone working was wearing traditional German folk costumes, and Erin felt distinctly ridiculous. She wasn’t what anyone would call “chesty,” and the blouse she wore bunched uselessly where it should be filled with breasts. Her little sister Lydia also looked pretty silly. Lydia was beanpole thin, with their father’s olive skin tone, and the getup made her seem sallow and odd.

  Their older sister Jen, on the other hand, was like something out of a fairy tale. Unlike Erin and Lydia, her hair had remained a gorgeous, shining blond past childhood. This morning Jen had left her hair down, and her golden waves hung past her shoulders. Her cheeks, always naturally rosy, stood out against her bronzed, flawless skin. At five foot ten, she could have been a supermodel for German folk clothes. While the bike path had a lot to do with BSB’s success, the other reason they were still open today was Jen. Once people saw her, they came from all over simply to stare at her—men, women, children alike. And beyond her appearance, Jen was a happy, genuinely warm and loving person, open and giving. It was hard not to fall in love with her immediately. Most people in town adored her. Eyes followed her everywhere she went.

  Erin stood behind the counter, filling small tasting glasses of beer. She’d already had to switch out kegs several times today on most of their beers—a sure sign of success. Earlier she and Jen had changed roles every hour—behind the bar and out in the crowd—but even Jen had eventually agreed that they were best where they were now. Jen was better with people, and Erin was better with beer.

  Their little sister Lydia wasn’t good at much of anything, so they’d put her on bussing and dish duty, and from where Erin was standing, she could see several empty glasses on the tables around the room. Annoyed, Erin glanced around and saw Lydia chatting with a group of people sitting at one of the high tops. Ever since high school, Lydia had fashioned herself as something of a punk, and the four people at the table were all wearing black, tattooed and funky-haired. Erin could hear her sister’s inane and fawning giggle. She couldn’t yell at her across the crowded room, so Erin turned to her friend Lottie next to her.

  “Hey, Lottie?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Think you can handle this for a minute while I go strangle Lydia?”

  “Oh, sure. It’s quieting down anyway.”

  Erin
was surprised to realize how late it had grown. She’d been so absorbed and busy, she hadn’t had time to think of anything but beer for the last several hours. Outside, the light was growing softer, the sun marching closer to bed, which meant that more and more people were leaving to avoid riding their bikes home in the dark. It was still fairly crowded, and the extra tables outside were still full, but compared to three hours ago, it was much calmer. Erin wiped her hands on a towel and pointed out the orders that still needed to be filled before moving from behind the bar. She grabbed a few glasses off tables near Lydia, hoping Lydia would get the hint, but she didn’t. She was so wrapped up in her new friends, she didn’t seem to notice Erin doing her job.

  Angry now instead of annoyed, Erin put several empty glasses on the bar for the dishwasher and turned around, intending to tear Lydia a new one. She stopped when she saw Jen approaching Lydia and her new friends. It was too loud to hear the two of them, but Jen touched Lydia’s elbow to get her attention. The two of them talked briefly, and then Lydia immediately returned to work. Erin had to smile. If she’d gone over there and asked Lydia to start bussing again, even if she’d done it nicely, it would have been high drama, possibly with tears and screaming. Jen had a way with people—especially their little sister. Jen met Erin’s eyes briefly and winked, and Erin gave her a wide, thankful smile.

  Some hours later, about an hour before closing, things had distinctly slowed down, and everyone had moved inside to avoid the chill night air. The large gas grill was still set up outside to cook the last of the bratwurst, but the outside tables were empty and clean. Inside, most of the tables were still full, but they no longer needed wait staff. Jen and Erin stood behind the bar now, filling orders as people came up. Lottie sat at the bar, enjoying her payment for today: free beer. Lydia had left without telling anyone, but Erin was in a good mood regardless. Judging from the receipts in one of the two registers, they’d made a small fortune today.

  “Lottie—you’re a genius,” Erin told her. Lottie had suggested that they hold an Oktoberfest.

  She smiled. “I know.”

  Erin leaned across the bar and squeezed her hand. “Seriously—I owe you one.”

  “I just want you guys to stay open. You do that and keep making this gose, and you can consider me paid in full.” Lottie took a long, deep drink of her beer, and her eyes closed in pleasure. She kept them closed a moment after she pulled the glass away from her mouth. “It’s the best damn beer in the world.”

  Erin and Jen laughed, Erin more pleased than she could say. Most of the beers they brewed here at BSB were standard and never changing. They had a porter, a stout, an IPA, a red, an ESB, a saison, a lager, and a wheat on tap year-round. The two changing taps were either seasonal or experimental. This autumn, Erin had an Oktoberfest style on tap (to be replaced with their pumpkin ale at the end of the month) and a gose. Gose is salty and sour wheat beer and still somewhat rare in the US. The gose she’d brewed had been her first foray into something truly experimental, and it had been an enormous success. Though this was only its second month on rotation, rumor had spread. People from all over the area were coming in to try it. Already, Erin was thinking of making it a permanent fixture on their summer and autumn beer menu. She would have to work out the kinks to make sure she could produce something uniform every time, but it might turn into a BSB mainstay.

  The door chimed, and all three of them turned that way. While they were open tonight until eleven, it was unusual for someone to come in this late. The people that entered were also not their usual type of customers. Colorado is a sporty state, with a kind of unspoken, nearly enforced uniform of casual sportswear, even in most offices. Tonight—a weekend night—all of the other customers in the room were wearing clothes that wouldn’t be out of place on a hiking trail. The three people that walked through the door wore formal business clothes, the two men in suits and the woman in a skirt and heels. All three paused just inside the doorway, clearly unnerved by the attention they attracted. If a record player had been playing, it would have screeched and gone silent.

  Erin glanced away to avoid being rude, and she and Lottie shared a shrug and raised eyebrows. A moment later, the three newcomers were sitting at the bar, and Erin glanced up from the sink she was standing at and into a pair of startlingly dark-gray eyes. The woman was about her age, maybe a year or two older—mid-thirties anyway—with platinum, almost white hair brushed off her face and expensively styled. She’d taken off her coat to reveal a dark silk blouse with white buttons, the color of which contrasted starkly with her pale, almost translucent skin. She had high cheekbones and full lips. She was striking, really, incredibly beautiful by any standards—an ice queen in the flesh. The woman’s expression heightened this impression. Despite meeting Erin’s eyes, she didn’t smile or respond to Erin’s grin. She simply stared at her. Erin wasn’t sure if she saw dislike or disdain, but whatever it was, the woman seemed to think she was better than Erin, beneath the courtesy of a friendly, if phony, smile. Erin flushed to the roots of her hair, instantly embarrassed. Her grin died, and the woman still didn’t respond. She did, however, glance away, as if uninterested in Erin’s existence. Erin turned to the sink again, too flustered to do or say anything. She’d never been so completely put in her place with just a look.

  Jen obviously missed this exchange, as she was soon talking to the three newcomers, taking and filling orders with her usual graceful efficiency. Erin kept her eyes rooted to the sink and the glasses she was cleaning until long after they’d starting chatting, and when she glanced up again, she saw Lottie watching her, her brows knit with concern. Lottie had something like a sixth sense, and she was clearly in tune to Erin’s dampened mood. Erin shook her head, motioning with her chin at the three strangers to suggest they could talk about it later.

  Jen and one of the men were chatting, and Erin suddenly heard someone call her name. She snapped to attention and saw Jen smiling at her, amused.

  “Earth to Erin! Come in, Erin!”

  She laughed. “Sorry, Jen. Woolgathering, I guess.” Erin moved closer to them.

  Jen indicated the man she’d been talking to. “This is Mister Charles Betters.”

  “Please—call me Charlie. Everyone does.”

  Erin froze. Charlie Betters Jr. was the new CEO of one of the largest craft brewers in the world. He’d inherited his position from his father, a legend in the beer world. Prior to the senior Charles’s first foray into the market, craft beer had been so small and local and specialized that few people even knew it existed outside of local markets. When the Better Beer Company of Boston began mass-producing their famous beer, however, the popularity of craft beer spread across the country, and never more than in places like Colorado, Oregon, and California, where craft beer was as much part of the culture as breathing fresh air. Just as an example, Loveland, Colorado, a small city of 70,000 people, had more than ten micro and macro breweries, as did just about every town and city in the state. The population could support that many breweries because it was simply part of who Coloradoans were—beer drinkers. And most of this could be traced to Charles Senior—this man’s father. Just about everyone in the brewing industry had felt his death the past month. Already, rumors were spreading that his son—the man in front of Erin now—had no business running the company, and that Better Beer would be swept out from under him, and soon.

  Charles Betters Jr., however, was clearly not letting these rumors get him down.

  “I’m so very happy to meet you,” Charlie said, his grin wide and friendly.

  “The honor is mine,” Erin said, grinning at him.

  It was hard not to like the man immediately. His smile appeared genuine and honest, his face open and guileless. A fair man, with red hair and light eyes, he went nearly scarlet at her compliment. He shook his head and turned to Jen. “So, I know it’s late for a visit, but we just flew in this morning, and we’ve been running around all day to local breweries. You’re the last on our list. My lawyer L
uis here is very particular about staying on track.”

  “Oh?” Jen asked. “What brings you to Colorado?”

  Charlie colored again and stared down at his clasped hands. “You must know, Miss Bennet—”

  “Please call me Jen.”

  “Jen, then. Well, you may or may not know, or you’re good at hiding it, but my company is in trouble. Ever since my father died last month—”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear it,” Jen broke in, genuinely concerned.

  Charlie gave her a brave smile. “Thank you, Jen. I appreciate it. Anyway, ever since he died, the board of directors at Better Beer has been snapping at my heels. They’re convinced I’m going to run my father’s company—well, my company now, I suppose—into the ground. I’ve been given a six-month trial period, after which they might vote to cut me loose.”

  “From your own company?” Jen appeared upset, and Erin had to smile to herself. Jen had just met the man, and his problems were already personal to her.

  Charlie smiled widely. “Exactly! Can you believe it! On the other hand, I don’t exactly blame them. My father was very, let’s say, secretive about his business. I know very little about brewing beer. And that’s why I’m here.”

  Erin was interested now and couldn’t help but interrupt. “Why here, of all places? It’s thousands of miles from Boston.”

  “You can say that again.” This was from the woman who had come in with Charlie, and everyone turned to her. Her expression gave nothing away, but once again, she stared at Erin evenly, coldly. Erin’s face heated with angry embarrassment, and she glanced away to keep from snapping at her rudeness.