Pride and Porters

by Charlotte Greene

  Their father ran several successful restaurants in the area, but none were more successful than the centerpiece—The Steak Lodge—in downtown Loveland. After almost fifty years in the business—ten in training and nearly forty running his own places—their father was finally retiring. He’d also decided to sell off all his restaurants, including The Steak Lodge. He told Jen last month that he wanted to take the money from the sales—what would likely be a moderate fortune—and invest it for future grandchildren she might give him. Both she and Jen, however, had immediately thought this might be the answer to their prayers.

  Their business had been struggling so much partly because of a space problem. Their current venue consisted of a small tasting room attached to a much-larger brewery—but both were still small by most local standards. They needed to expand so they could increase their beer output and seating area. If they could brew more beer, they could start selling more of it outside of the tasting room, at more local bars and stores, for example. And if they had more space, more people could sit in the tasting room more comfortably, buying the bigger quantities they were producing.

  Luckily, they were already in a good position to expand. There were currently rental vacancies on either side of their brewery, so they could simply take over those spaces. They wouldn’t need to move completely—just expand where they were, which would save them a ton of money and time. Still, the minimum price for expansion was around one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That cost didn’t include the specialty brewing equipment they would need to increase production. Erin and Jen both knew they would never get another bank loan for the amount of money they needed, no matter what kind of plan they proposed. They needed an angel investor—someone with money willing to take a chance on them, and Jen hoped that angel would be their father.

  However, while their father adored Jen and Lydia, he and Erin did not see eye-to-eye, primarily because they were too much alike—stubborn grudge holders with quick tempers. Growing up, Erin and her father had argued about everything from her major in college to her profession to, as her father called it, her “choice” to be a lesbian. Their father was much older than their mother when they married, making him closer to the age of most of their friends’ grandparents. She and Jen were in their thirties now, but their dad was just a few months away from his seventy-fifth birthday.

  Jen always excused his homophobia in part because of his age, but Erin had never allowed it to be that easy for him. She refused to stay in the closet in front of his friends, refused to hide her girlfriends from him, and could never resist talking about gay rights when he was around. Needless to say, some time ago they’d basically become estranged. Despite living in the same small city, Erin and her father almost never saw each other. Her mother had died four years ago, and since then she’d barely visited. Erin couldn’t even remember when they’d last talked. For the last three Christmases, she’d gone skiing rather than face another holiday with the man.

  All of this was in Erin’s mind, but, seeing Jen’s expression of defeat, Erin felt terrible. She touched Jen’s hand. “Hey—don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Look like we’ve lost before we’ve even tried. Dad might not like me, but he loves you. He’ll do almost anything to make you happy.”

  Jen grinned, but her eyes shifted away, a little guilty. “You think so?”

  “I know so.” She squeezed her hand again. “Okay. I’ll come with you. And I’ll even keep my mouth closed for once. I’ll try anyway. And hey—what’s the worst that could happen? If he says no, we won’t be any worse off than we are now.”

  Jen was about to reply, but her cell phone rang again. Erin made a “go ahead” motion with her hands, and Jen answered. Her cheeks colored when she heard the voice on the other line, and Erin knew who it was before her sister mouthed the word “Charlie” at her. Charlie had been calling Jen since Saturday a couple of times a day, and Jen was excited every time. Erin had decided not to tell her about what she’d overheard his friend Darcy say in the alley. She wanted to take Charlie on faith. He’d seemed like a nice guy no matter what his friends had insinuated.

  Excusing herself to her sister, who barely noticed her leaving, Erin grabbed her wallet, phone, and keys and went outside into the late-morning sunshine. She paused on their front porch, stretching and peering up and down their street with distinct pleasure. She and Jen had moved downtown together soon after opening their brewery. This particular neighborhood was one of the cutest in Loveland. Many of these small homes had been built in the twenties and thirties. They were only a few blocks from the city recreation center, and just a few more blocks from their brewery. Their place was a small, cottage-style house with two bedrooms and a tiny front and backyard. Most of the houses on the block were just as modest, but everyone around them took great care with their yards, making their street a kind of centerpiece for the town. Most of their neighbors were young couples with professional jobs, most of whom had chosen to live in a smaller house for environmental purposes.

  Erin went around the side of their house, passing Jen’s yellow VW Beetle—a car she and Jen had managed to keep running since high school. Erin didn’t own her own car, preferring bicycles. Passing the Beetle, she walked into their little garage and rolled out one of her bikes. It was so beautiful and quiet out today, it was perfect for a long ride. She kept a little fanny pack attached to the bike for her belongings, and she clipped it on after putting her keys, wallet, and phone inside. She went into the house and filled her water bottle in the kitchen, then held up her bike helmet to Jen. She waved a hand in acknowledgment, still obviously distracted by her phone call. Grinning, Erin went outside, buckled on her helmet, and took off down her street toward the city bike path.

  Her ride passed in a daze of happy exertion. While no expert, Erin could bike for hours, and she liked to use her days off to explore as often as she could. She frequently rode to other breweries in Loveland or Fort Collins—almost all the local brewers were her friends—but today she needed the outdoors. The weekend had been a success, but it had been noisy and crowded. She needed quiet and sunshine to restore her sense of self. She rode west for a while before hitting Wilson Avenue, where she left the trail and headed north along the road. At about the hour mark of her ride, she was passing Coyote Ridge Natural Area, a series of trails between Loveland and Fort Collins, and she turned into the parking lot. There were mountain-bike trails here, but, as she was on her road bike, she locked it and set off on foot on one of her favorite hiking trails.

  It had been weeks since the last rain, and she kicked up a lot of dust. The first part of the trail had no trees, and the sun beat down on her. She finally made it to the bottom of the foothills, which were somewhat shaded, and turned around to take in the prairie she’d just passed, marveling at the warm weather this late in the season. Though Colorado’s open plains were brown and dried out this time of year, she’d always found a bleak beauty in them. From here, she could see far away on the horizon, and the sky was a bright, crystalline blue. She took a deep breath, the relaxation she’d craved settling into her bones. She turned and started hiking up, the trail a steep scramble from here on.

  Halfway up the ridge, she was glad she’d brought her water bottle, and once she’d passed the halfway point on the sloping hill, she realized she needed to turn around or she’d run dry. It was now very hot, and she hadn’t brought a hat. Still, this could very easily be the last week of nice weather. Any day it could grow chilly, and she was glad she could take advantage of the trail one last time until next summer.

  By the time she reached her bike, worn out and sweaty, she felt relaxed and loose-limbed. She stopped at a public water fountain to fill her bottle and then washed her face and hands. She was covered in dust and splattered with mud from her earlier bike ride, but she couldn’t have been happier. She greeted a fellow biker on his way toward the mountain-bike trails and then unlocked and climbed on hers after putting on her helmet. She was about to
push off toward home when her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Erin. It’s Jen. Listen. I’ve been having some beer with Charlie and wondered if you could pick me up. I mean, if you’re nearby. I didn’t eat before I came, and the beer went right to my head. I was going to call for a ride but thought I’d check in with you first in case you’re around.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At Zwei Brewing. Charlie and the brewer here had a meeting this morning, and he invited me to join them.”

  Erin glanced down at herself and wrinkled her nose. Aside from being filthy, she was pretty sure she stank, too. “I don’t know, Jen. I’m kind of a mess right now.”

  “Oh, Charlie won’t mind. Please come? I could Uber, but I hate leaving my car.”

  Erin sighed and did a quick mental calculation. “Okay. I’ll be there in half an hour or so. You better have a big glass of ice water for me when I get there. I’m hot as hell.”

  “Done. Thanks a million, lady.”

  The ride to the brewery was less pleasant than the ride she’d taken to the trails because the roads were much busier. Fort Collins is larger than Loveland and, despite being very bike-friendly, still has some work to do to make some roads safe for bicycles. Twice she had to slam on her brakes to avoid being hit by a car, and by the time she rolled into Zwei Brewing’s parking lot, she was hot, thirsty, and rattled. She made herself pause outside of the tasting room for a moment to collect herself, not wanting to embarrass her sister.

  Inside it was blissfully cool and dark, and it took Erin a moment to spot Jen and Charlie. Just as she realized they weren’t alone, and almost as if she’d called out to her, Darcy turned and met her eyes. Erin saw her look her up and down and then, suddenly, recognition dawned on the woman’s face, followed by something like horror.

  “Great,” Erin muttered to herself.

  Breaking eye contact with Darcy, she walked toward their table, and a moment later Jen spotted her. She leapt up when Erin came closer, giving her a solid hug.

  “You came!”

  Erin laughed, recognizing the signs of Jen’s drunkenness. Her usual quiet friendliness and warmth had turned effusive and loud.

  “Of course I came, you ninny. I told you I was on my way.”

  Jen was grinning like a maniac, and she held Erin out at arm’s length, scrutinizing her. “My god, Erin. You’re filthy.”

  Erin had to agree. She’d been dirty before, after her hike, but now she was a mess. While it hadn’t rained for a long time, there were always puddles, and Erin had managed to hit or be hit by every one. Mud and dirt had splattered her clothes, and a strange black slime coated one leg.

  Charlie laughed from the table behind her. “Hey, we don’t mind. This isn’t the Ritz. Please join us, Erin.”

  Erin smiled at him gratefully and then sat in the empty chair, ignoring Darcy. A large glass of ice water sat at her place, and she gulped it down without stopping. After she finished, she glanced at Darcy, who was staring at her with a strange expression. It took Erin a moment to realize that it resembled actual interest, and Erin averted her eyes, blushing.

  Jen and Charlie had moved their chairs close together and were chatting and animated. For a moment, Erin felt a little pity for Darcy. She’d likely been the third wheel since Jen showed up.

  Charlie turned and grinned at her, his boyish face pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Erin. Your sister and I were just finishing a conversation about hops. She knows a lot about them, and I find it fascinating.”

  Erin had to smile. Only her sister could be wooed with such a topic. “Yes, we both do, actually. We’ve recently had to switch to using hops out of Oregon for almost everything we brew. I wish we could use exclusively Colorado hops. I use local for everything else. But this just isn’t the climate for them.”

  “You can say that again,” a voice said behind them. Erin turned and was pleased to see one of the Zwei brewers she was friends with. She stood up and gave him a quick hug before remembering how filthy she was.

  “Your friend here has been schooling me all morning,” Charlie explained. “He was just showing us some of the new equipment in the back before you got here.”

  Erin turned to the brewer, excited. “You got it?”

  “You’re damn right. Last night, as a matter of fact. Me and the other guys have been basically standing around admiring it since it got here.”

  Erin was almost breathless. “Can I see it?”

  He laughed. “Of course! Follow me. You guys can come see it again too, if you want.”

  Everyone jumped to their feet and followed him into the brewing room. Erin’s breath caught in her throat. Zwei had recently been able to buy a much larger, four-vessel, steam-powered brewhouse precisely the size Erin wanted to install at BSB. At BSB, she’d been using a smaller electric version since they’d opened, and the maintenance, cleaning, and size were becoming a problem. The brewer showed her around the equipment, pointing out all the features she’d been reading and dreaming about for months.

  When she climbed down the ladder, Charlie and Jen were smiling broadly, clearly pleased. Darcy still had that strange, hard-to-read expression, and once again, Erin’s face heated up under her gaze. She turned to the brewer.

  “It’s really incredible. I’m so happy for you guys. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, Erin. That means a lot. I think it’s really going to change things around here.”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  As they walked into the tap room, Erin couldn’t help but feel a stab of true envy at Zwei’s success. She’d long slavered over a new brewhouse, but even if BSB could afford to buy one—which they couldn’t—they simply didn’t have enough space to put it in their brewing room. Until they could expand, she’d never be able to buy one. Even if she somehow got the cash and managed to get the new brewhouse, they would have to upgrade all their other equipment, in capacity at least, to meet the new quantities they could create. The amount of money involved was staggering.

  All five of them sat down at the table again, and she and the brewer caught up on local brewing news for the next half hour as she rehydrated with glass after glass of water. She had one small sample of Zwei’s Oktoberfest Ale, pleased to find that she objectively thought her own brew much better. He must have read this conclusion on her face, as they had a lively debate about it for a few minutes before he excused himself to return to work. When she turned to the other people at the table, she once again found Darcy staring at her. This time she made herself maintain eye contact, and after a moment, to her surprise, Darcy smiled at her.

  “You certainly know a lot about beer, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said.

  “I should hope so. It is my profession, after all.”

  “I like to see someone committed to something, wholly and totally. It’s obvious you have a true passion for your work. And, having tried your product, that passion is well placed. Yours has been the best beer we’ve tried so far in Colorado.”

  Erin couldn’t help but flush in pleased surprise, and Darcy’s smile widened further. Erin tried to align Darcy’s words with the Darcy she thought she knew, but it simply didn’t compute. Darcy must be trying to trick her for some reason.

  Instead of responding, Erin turned and saw that Jen and Charlie had both overheard this exchange. Charlie was giving Darcy a lopsided grin, and Jen was beaming at her. They clearly believed what Darcy had said, and again, Erin had a moment of doubt. Could Darcy actually mean it? Too confused to figure things out right now, she launched herself to her feet.

  “I’m so sorry, Charlie, Darcy, but my sister and I need to be going.”

  “But Erin—” Jen said.

  “No, Jen. Really. We need to go. Now.”

  She and Jen had a silent conversation with their eyes, and Jen finally sighed, seeming defeated by Erin’s determination.

  “Fine.” She turned to Charlie. “Thank you so much for inviting me. I’m sorry we have to leave so soon.”
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  “The pleasure is mine, Jen. I know you’re both very busy at the brewery, but I do hope we can do it again sometime soon.”

  Jen’s smile nearly doubled in size, and for a moment, it appeared that the two of them—Jen and Charlie—were deciding how to say good-bye. Erin was fairly certain that, had it been just them, they would have kissed, and it seemed like he might at least hug her, but Jen, awkward as usual, simply held out her hand. Charlie seemed surprised, then shook it before shaking Erin’s as well.

  “Until next week,” Charlie said to Erin. He’d arranged to get a tour and hear about their brewery on Monday.

  “Until then,” Erin said.

  They went outside together, and Erin unlocked her bike and rolled it over to the Beetle. It had a bike rack on top, and they managed to hoist her bike up there and lock it in place. They climbed inside, and Erin was about to start the car, but she paused and turned to Jen. It took a moment, but Jen finally noticed and looked over at her.

  “What is it? Is something wrong? Why did we rush out of there like that?”

  Erin shook her head, unable to explain the panic that had washed over her when Darcy smiled at her. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry. I just want to get home and take a shower.” She paused, staring out the front window and then at her sister. She wasn’t sure how to broach the topic of Charlie, but avoiding it was starting to feel a little like lying.

  “Jen—are you and Charlie seeing each other now?”

  Her sister’s face went dark red, and her eyebrows shot up. “Seeing each other? What do you mean?”

  “It’s obvious you like him, and he likes you.”

  “So what? That doesn’t mean we’re dating. He lives in Boston, for crying out loud.”

  Erin continued to stare at her, long enough that Jen blushed again. She glanced away, clearly embarrassed.

  “Anyway, even if we did start dating, what difference does it make?” She was almost pouting.