by L. M. Fortin
Grandma Minnie, who had seen her from the living room window, came out to the porch. “What is that? Coral Stone’s truck not good enough for you?”
Callie laughed. “No, but I think that Coral Stone wants her truck back for her own use. Besides, now that I’m going to start working, it will be more convenient to have my own car.”
“Is it used? Maybe you should have that Noah take a look at it if he stops by tomorrow. Give him something productive to do,” said Grandma Minnie.
“If? Between the charms of your cooking and mom’s ability to chat about any and all topics related to farming, I’ll be surprised on the day he doesn’t stop by.”
“Humph. If I’d known he was going to hang around so much, I’d never have offered him any muffins to begin with.”
“Come on. He’s not that bad. He built me a great closet. And he fixed the burner on your stove.”
“I guess he has his uses.”
“Besides, he seems to make mom enjoy herself at something other than gardening for the first time in years.”
“Sooner or later, they’ll be all out of conversation,” said Grandma Minnie. “Then we’ll see what happens.”
Callie was in the kitchen, helping Grandma Minnie with dinner, when her phone buzzed. She picked it up eagerly, hoping it was Scott.
Instead, it was Audrey Wolcott. Callie was tempted not to answer the insistent buzz. But if Audrey already knew that Callie and Scott were dating, it would be best to face her as soon as possible and not wait for the inevitable.
“Hello?” she said tentatively.
“Callie, it’s Audrey.” Callie wondered why everyone still introduced themselves on the phone when the screen almost always showed who was calling anyway. She thought Audrey sounded excited and not angry.
“Audrey, it’s good to hear from you. How are Bella and Jolie?” said Callie, asking after Audrey’s twin daughters.
“They are fine, but they and you are about to get some big news,” she said.
“What’s that?” asked Callie.
“I’m getting married!” she squealed.
“Audrey—that’s wonderful! I am so happy for you!” Callie cringed at the thought of what Scott would think when he found out about this. Maybe Audrey’s wedding would make it possible for Audrey to be OK with a relationship between Scott and Callie, she thought.
“Can I ask you a favor?” asked Audrey. “Will you be my wedding planner?”
“Of course! I would have been upset if you’d gone with anyone else,” laughed Callie. She wanted to say, ‘as I missed planning your first one,’ but she didn’t think references to that first unsuccessful marriage would be diplomatic in this situation. “What’s your time line here?”
“Vijay would like it to be as soon as possible,” Audrey said. “But he’ll indulge me to make sure I think it’s done right. I’m thinking maybe four months from now?”
“That would be about right. It would give us a couple weeks to pull together the invitations and the venue. It’s good etiquette to get the invitations to people at least four weeks out.”
“I knew I was asking the right person,” said Audrey. “I was already feeling overwhelmed thinking of the details, but you just drill it down to such a practical level.”
“It’s nothing but a list,” said Callie. “We just need to get on the ball creating that list. Do you have a church in mind where you want to get married?”
“Vijay’s not religious in a church sense,” said Audrey. “I think it would be better if we had a non-Christian venue.”
“Is a hotel too impersonal?” asked Callie, wondering where else a wedding in Skinner could happen if they avoided churches and hotels. Even if it had many of the trappings of big city life, it was a relatively small place.
“If there was nothing else,” Audrey said before pausing. “I had a big wedding the first time. I will be more than satisfied to keep it smaller this time around.”
Callie was glad she didn’t have to be the one to mention the previous go around. “How many folks are you thinking?”
“No more than one hundred. Most of Vijay’s family is in India. His mother and sister will come out here for the wedding. Then for our honeymoon, we’ll go and get married there, in front of all his family.”
Callie wondered how much Audrey knew of the large scale productions most Indian weddings were. She decided that wasn’t up to her to describe. Hopefully Vijay would share the pertinent details prior to their trip. Or maybe the mother and sister would induct Audrey into the convoluted traditions of an Indian wedding.
“Well, with that small of a crowd, we have a lot more options than the hotel,” said Callie. “Let me check around town and see what’s available in the February time frame. Do you need any help with a dress or choosing colors or any of that?”
“I’m going to Portland for my first dress fitting next week,” said Audrey. “For colors, I think I like black and silver. That seems sort of timeless and classic.” Neither Callie nor Audrey mentioned the trendy teal and pink overtones from her first wedding, but Callie knew they were both thinking of it. Some things were better left in the past.
“Great choice. At this stage what else can I do to help? As you said, it’s not your first rodeo, so I can’t imagine you need much assistance.”
“I need both the planning help and the moral support,” said Audrey. “Sometimes it feels like this town is just filled with spiteful, gossiping women. I think they are staring at me wherever I go.”
Callie laughed, trying to reassure her friend. “They’ve been staring at that red hair for years. What makes you think they’d stop now? If he makes you happy, ignore them and get on with your life.”
“He does,” said Audrey. “I don’t think I was ready to marry someone like him years ago. I had some growing up to do.”
Callie thought that sounded like a good start for a second marriage. “How about we get together for coffee downtown and go to Faber’s to check out invitations?” Faber’s was one of Callie’s favorite places in town. Not only did they carry wedding invitations, but also stationery, blank journals, and other office supplies. Callie always thought of it as a store full of potential. All of those items patiently waiting for someone to throw a party. Another Skinner institution that hadn’t changed much from when she was a kid. She loved the smell of paper and ink that wound throughout the store. “Then we can also touch base on a timeline. I’ll have some suggestions of where to hold the wedding by then.”
“Callie, I can’t thank you enough,” said Audrey. “You have taken a load off of my mind.” They arranged a date and time. “See you next week,” she said and hung up.
Callie didn’t think weddings were easy, by any means, but she was surprised Audrey thought she needed help with such a small function.
Grandma had listened unabashedly to the phone call. “It’s that dentist, isn’t it?” said Grandma Minnie, whose gossip chain was exceptionally well informed.
“Yes. I guess that will suit her more than a policeman,” said Callie. “She asked me to be her wedding planner.”
Callie remembered how helpless Audrey had seemed sometimes while they were in high school. That was in contrast with the often fearless personality she showed when leading Callie into trouble. But the damsel in distress act had always worked on Scooter McMillan and it looked like it worked now with Callie, too. There was just something helpless in her voice that brought out a protective instinct in Callie.
That reminded Callie about Scott. Text messages be darned. What was up with him? It was now evening and she’d heard nothing from him. Even if he had ended up in court all day, certainly he’d be done by now.
After dinner, when she was alone in the cottage, she dialed his number. It rang and just as she thought it would go to voicemail, Scott answered.
“Hello?” His voice didn’t sound like the Scott of last night. He sounded cool and impersonal. Maybe he had answered the phone without looking to see that it was her.
“Yes, I know. What can I do for you? I’m sort of in the middle of something here.” So much for not knowing she was calling. She got the impression that no matter when she called he would be in the middle of something.
Callie shivered, feeling a chill. “I guess I was sort of worried I hadn’t heard from you today and just wanted to check to see if you were all right.”
“Everything’s fine,” he said shortly.
“OK, then. I guess I’ll talk with you later then. ‘Bye,” she said.
“’Bye,” he said. She realized he hadn’t agreed to talk to her later. What had happened? It was apparent to her head, and her suddenly tender heart, that Scott had come away from their evening encounter with decidedly different feelings than she had. Maybe her thoughts on how people changed and grew over time were just that, only thoughts. In reality, maybe they just hid their original personalities with a thin veneer of civilization as they got older. Callie felt as if she was back in the high school cafeteria, tray in hand, crossing the room and extremely relieved to see Audrey on the other side waiting for her, even if she was sitting with Scooter McMillan.
Chapter Five
After Callie’s suggestion to Walt in September, the Bru-topia Premium Showcase had become a reality, with five brewers competing for the title of Skinner’s Most Unique Beer. The breweries would be located at a central island on the show floor, allowing them maximum exposure to the attendees. Now, at the end of October, they were down to ten days left before the big event. Callie was always surprised at how fast the time flew by. There had been several committee meetings and she had spent long hours with Walt and Yuki on all the details.
None of the premium showcase brewers had yet to share the actual beverage they would be presenting in competition. Some felt that keeping the beer secret would improve their chances of winning the title of Skinner’s Most Unique Beer. Callie and Walt had decided that, as they were continuing her beer education, she should visit the five breweries. It was good customer service and fitting to those who had paid a higher entry fee. Callie could also get the information on their unique beer. She would assure secrecy and then get the signage made just before the event to make sure the information was tightly controlled.
Callie’s first visit was to the largest brewery of the bunch, and also the oldest. Magic Waters had existed in Skinner for almost sixty years and had been the first brewery located in town. It was a family run organization and the third generation was in charge at present.
Callie pulled into the parking lot, but before going in she checked her phone and saw that her contact from Creative Imprints, the company providing the glasses for the brew fest, had left a message. She hated it when people left a message that said, “Call me as soon as possible.” Didn’t they realize how much that worried a person? Besides, didn’t they have any level of trust that if they just left a non-urgent call back message that she would call them back as soon as she was able? With a feeling of trepidation, she called her contact, Carlton.
“Carlton? It’s Callie Stone.”
“Callie, I’m glad you called me back so quickly. We may have a small problem with the glasses.”
“I ordered them a month ago. I know that was enough time.”
“Yes, it was. We were getting the glassware from China to keep the costs low and then planned on imprinting them here in the states.”
“OK, sounds good so far. What’s the problem?”
“There’s a dispute at the port in Los Angeles and a labor issue there has slowed unloading of cargo. So much so that I’m not sure we’re going to be able to get the glasses in time to imprint them and ship them out to your event.”
Callie’s mind started coming up with back-up plans. Where could she get three thousand tasting glasses in under a week? She was hoping Carlton would have a solution. “We had a contract for the glasses and I won’t be paying for them until they get delivered. How are you going to manage that?”
“I thought we could substitute a different glass for just a little higher cost. It’s an eight ounce glass, not a four ounce one as you wanted, but it’s something we have in stock.”
“How long would it take you to turn those around with the imprinting?” Callie wasn’t happy with the idea of a price increase. She was also conscious the larger glasses could lead to larger servings. As the manager of a brew fest, she had to find ways to keep a lid on people’s consumption of beer. She wasn’t going to be thrilled to explain any changes in the glasses to Ethan Fillmer. He’d find some way to complain about it.
“If you let me know by this Friday, I can have them to you by your original arrival date.” As Callie didn’t have any place to store three thousand glasses, she had set them to arrive the day before the brew fest and to be delivered to the Johnson Pavilion directly.
Callie said goodbye without committing to the new glasses. She had a couple of days to explore other options. For the moment, she would let the problem marinate and get on with her day.
As its main brewing operations were no longer located in the heart of town, Magic Waters had a warehouse and tasting room located off of River Road near the train tracks. Callie followed the signs down a gravel driveway and pulled into a small parking lot outside the tasting room. The tall, thin building was obviously once a farm house, with its pointed roof and dormer windows. The house still had its original charm, and only a low sign in front of the porch identified it as a commercial establishment. That, and the large gray warehouse that stretched out behind it.
As Callie got out of the car, she heard a sharp bark, and a medium sized orange and white Brittany spaniel came bounding down the stairs. His orange ears contrasted against his white fur. The white was mottled with liver colored spots and he wore a red and white bandanna tied around his neck.
“Hops! Get back here!” said a man’s voice from inside the house.
Callie assumed the dog was Hops and, as the dog sat patiently by her feet, she leaned over and rubbed his ears. “Good boy,” she said. Hops responded to that with a tongue swipe to her fingers and scooted closer to her, leaning on her leg. For a second she was surprised at the unconditional affection from the dog. It didn’t look as if she would get the chance to be showing anyone affection herself in the near future. Darn that Scott McMillan anyway. After leaving him a few messages that went unreturned, she had stopped reaching out to him and had heard nothing from him since mid-October.
“If he bothers you, just let me know and I’ll put him in his kennel out back,” said a tall, thin man coming down the stairs. He wore a blue long-sleeve collared work shirt and well-worn jeans. He had bristle stiff gray hair and looked to be in his late sixties. Callie thought he looked familiar.
“I think I’m here to see Ethan?” she asked.
“No, he’s thinking it would be best if you talked with me, as I’m making the beer for the competition. I’m his dad, Floyd Fillmer,” he said, putting out his hand. “And I see you’ve met Hops.”
Callie laughed. “Yes, and he’s not a bother at all.” Hops stood, his orange ears cocked up as if he knew she was speaking of him and wagged his tail. “He seems like a smart one.”
“Hops is definitely one of a kind. He’s just a year old, so he’s still got some manners to learn.”
Callie remembered her own manners. “I’m Callie Stone. I’m working with the Skinner Bru-topia.”
“That’s what Ethan said. He runs the day to day operations of the brewery and I just work on special projects now. I like to think I’m semi-retired,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”
They climbed the stairs and entered a large open space filled with tables. On one side of the room there was a small area where a wooden countertop was laid across two oversize beer barrels. There was a third barrel on the top. There were no taps located there, so Callie assumed they were just decorative. The focus of the room was a large carved mahogany bar extending the length of the room. “My dad had this bar sh
ipped to him from New York in the 1930’s by rail when he set up the brewery.”
“Was the bar in this house? It seems a bit far from downtown,” said Callie.
“No, it used to be located right near where the Skinner railroad station is currently. When we expanded operations in the 80’s it made better sense to operate a tasting room and warehouse together. We didn’t have the space to do that in town, so we moved everything here,” he said.
“This might sound like a dumb question,” said Callie. “But why are you still considered a small brewery? Your business was the first real brewery in town and it seems to me you could have grown it to more of a national brand.”
“Now you sound like Ethan,” said Floyd, shaking his head. “He’s always wanting to take us national. I’ve just felt that when you get to such a large size, you lose control. When the focus becomes on how much you produce, you lose a sense of what you’re actually producing. I like being a craft beer seller. I like having control over what style of beer comes out of my brewery. One of Ethan’s friends is thinking of brewing on a larger scale, but he’s got to fix some smaller things before he can go anywhere.” He was lost in thought for a moment and said, “Us old-timers have got to look out for the young brewers and make sure they don’t do things they’ll regret later.”
Callie assumed that was another reference to Ethan’s national aspirations. “Could I see the warehouse? This is the first actual brewery that I’ve been in.”
Floyd stopped for a second and seemed to have momentary trouble keeping upright, but steadied himself as he leaned against the bar. Hops barked at him. “Quiet boy, I’m fine,” he said.
“Are you sure?” asked Callie.
“I had a bad round of the flu that had me down for a week or two, but I’m getting better,” he said, recovering himself and leading her to a door at the back of the room. Hops ran around him and waited eagerly at the door.
