by Jean Oram
Finally, he lowered his lips to hers, giving her a long, sweet kiss that wasn’t just full of potential, it was the future.
13
“Moe?” Amy could barely speak over the thickness in her throat as she stood in the soon-to-be-nursery. She was sorting through papers, trying to decide what to do with everything now that they would need the room for their baby.
“What’s up, my lovely pregnant wife?” He came trotting into the room.
Amy pointed to the filing cabinet.
He dutifully peered into the open drawer.
“A gummy bear?” He frowned, watching her from the corner of his eye. “Why?”
She shook her head. “You know I didn’t put that in there.”
“And I’ve been forbidden from ever bringing them into the house.”
“It’s your filing cabinet.”
He reached in, giving the bear a squeeze, making her shudder.
“It’s still soft.”
Amy hugged herself, backing away from the cabinet. “Why’s it here? Zach eats candy. Do you think he dropped it while installing the security stuff?”
“In our filing cabinet?”
“It didn’t seem likely, but other possibilities are running rampant in my mind and I’d much rather focus on that one.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
Moe was silent for so long she pried one open again.
“Spencer eats gummies.”
Amy inhaled sharply and shivered. “He was in our home. The files! He planted that document. What do we do?”
Moe put the gummy bear on top of the cabinet, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. They stared at it for a long minute, the silence stretching out.
“Have they liquidated Brew Babies yet?” Amy asked.
Moe had told her that when he’d quit, Roald had confessed he wasn’t ready to dissolve the business. And from what she’d heard in the three days they’d been home, the pub was still up and running. Although quite empty, by the sounds of it. Kimi had caused Marissa to quit when she’d come in to take charge of things, and with the pub down three crucial staff members, they were running bare-bones hours, which was not going over well with the regulars.
“They have not,” Moe said.
They considered the incriminating gummy bear awhile longer. It was red. Translucent. Totally gross.
Moe finally looked away from it and their eyes met.
“Should we go get your pub back?” Amy asked.
Two days later Moe was sitting at one of the tables on the floor of the pub, talking with Roald. It was before opening hours, and the place was empty other than for Amy, Spencer, and Kimi, who were perched on stools at the bar, looking both uncomfortable and curious. Well, Amy was just uncomfortable. Spencer was chowing down on a bag of chips that he’d helped himself to, and Kimi was leaning forward on her stool, focused on them like she was trying to lip read.
Moe had asked them all to come in, then asked to speak to Roald privately at one end of the room.
The man was surprisingly patient, listening to Moe with few interruptions as he asked for the opportunity to purchase the pub from Cesar’s estate, outlining all the reasons it was good for everyone involved.
“I know Cesar wanted you to have this place.” Roald cupped his chin, rubbing it. “I just…in good conscience… There have been too many mistakes and what-not lately. This is Cesar’s legacy. If it slides, it reflects on him. I know, I know, he’s gone now. But he was a prideful man. I don’t want him rolling over in his grave and coming back to haunt me.” He gave a hollow laugh.
Moe shifted forward in his chair, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn’t be able to hear. “What if I told you it wasn’t me. That someone was behind the issues the pub has been having?”
“I’m not sure—”
“I know that Spencer broke into my house and planted the document you found. I’m guessing he’s the one who also gave you the tip that you’d find product and files in the house.”
The slight jerk of Roald’s head told Moe he was correct. He glanced at Amy. It was time to bring it home.
“I’m fairly confident he also spoiled that vat of pale ale,” Moe said, his voice still low.
“Whoa. Careful. He’s my nephew.” Roald leaned back, putting space between them. “Those are pretty big accusations.”
“I know. And I wouldn’t make them if I hadn’t hired a security expert to look into a few things for me. His name is Zach Forrester and he specializes in digital investigations.” He slid Zach’s card across the table. “Kimi, myself and Cesar’s old credentials can all log in remotely to Brew Babies’ inventory and ordering system. Spencer’s home IP address was tagged as an editor in the software more than my own over the past two months, and no…” He held up his hand to prevent Roald from interrupting. “…there’s no reason for him to be in the program. But he’s been meddling with things. Deleting orders, in particular. As well, we did some tracking into the jukebox he secured for us. It was stolen property.”
Roald’s eyebrows lifted, his eyes remaining on Zach’s card, which he held out at arm’s length so he could read it without his glasses.
“I’m not sure…” he said uncomfortably.
“I wouldn’t have gone to the bother if I didn’t love this pub, and want what was best for it, as well as for Cesar’s name. He was like a father to me.”
Roald glanced toward where the Phipps siblings were sitting.
“Shall we call Spencer over and see what he has to say?” Moe asked. “Give him a chance to speak?”
Roald beckoned to his nephew, Kimi wringing her hands as she joined them, as well. Amy sent Moe a questioning glance, but he gave a small shake of his head, telling her to stay put for now.
“What’s this about the jukebox?” Roald asked.
“Oh, yeah.” Spencer broke into a big grin. “I got a sweet deal on it.”
“Because it was hot?” Moe asked.
Spencer hesitated, his eyes flicking nervously. “Wicked hot.”
“Stolen?” his uncle asked.
“What?”
“It was stolen?”
“I didn’t know, I swear. I ordered it online.”
“Along with these?” Moe slid a printout across the table so Spencer could see it. It was a list of several high-end jukeboxes that he’d been buying, then selling to pubs, being reimbursed, splitting the proceeds with the guys who’d stolen them.
“Gaming is expensive. I don’t always win tournaments,” Spencer said, anger lacing his words. “Dad left you this place and I’m his real son. I want my half.” His voice rose until he was just about shouting. “I don’t want a measly quarter when you buy it for a discounted price. I want my real share.”
Moe nodded to Amy, who’d moved to the outer doors. She opened it, letting in Scott Malone, who’d been waiting, listening.
“Spencer Phipps, you’re under arrest.”
Spencer was spitting, unable to form words as he pointed at Moe, backing away from Scott like he planned to escape. Zach and Logan came out of the back office, helping Scott corner the man.
Kimi had shrieked and covered her face, backing toward Amy, who guided her away from the action.
“You really need to look into getting more officers out here, mate,” Logan said, as he pinned Spencer, Scott slapping cuffs on him.
“Tell the taxpayers.”
“I might just do that. Lately this mountain town has had a lot of folks with kangaroos loose in their top paddock, if you know what I mean.” Logan tapped his head, then gave the classic gesture of spinning a finger in circles by his ear.
“I do, I truly do,” Scott said, leading Spencer away.
“You have any questions,” Zach told Roald, “let me know. I’ve got a whole file I’ll be turning over to the police. You may be especially interested in the potential charges we may lay against your nephew for the way he interfered and caused damages while trying to oust Moe.”
“Yes, please.” Roald look
shaken, pale. He’d stood up during the commotion and he sat again, placing his reading glasses on his nose with trembling fingers.
“Now?” Zach asked in surprise.
“Yes, please.”
“Sure thing then. Give me a moment.” The man went outside.
“Kimi? A moment, please.” Roald’s hands were clasped, his brow furrowed, and he looked so much like his brother, despite their physical differences, that Moe had to take a seat.
Kimi swallowed and sat across from her uncle, looking like a child about to be disciplined.
“Did you know anything about this?”
She shook her head violently and Moe inhaled, sharing a glance with Amy.
“Do you have objections to Moe’s claim on the pub?”
Her gaze trailed to Moe, her eyes becoming damp. She returned her attention to her uncle and again shook her head.
“Well then.” He let out a long breath.
Zach returned with a thick file folder. “Consider this your own personal copy,” he told Roald, not yet handing it over. “I’ll print another for the police.”
“Any chance he’s been meddling with other businesses?” Roald asked Zach, his hand extended for the file.
And that, right there, was why Cesar had chosen his anal brother to look out for his pubs and his kids, including Moe. Roald was a man good with details and big pictures. Moe wondered if there was a chance he might want to manage a pub for him.
“Brew, Too, I presume?” Zach asked. “I already looked into it.” He gently laid the file on the table, then pressed his palm squarely in the middle of the thick folder. “I think you’ll find what’s in here very interesting.” He made eye contact with Kimi, who trembled, her hands clasped between her legs. She darted a glance at her uncle, then shifted her eyes to the side.
When Roald pulled the file toward him, flipped it open and adjusted his reading glasses, she became clearly agitated. “I’m sorry,” she finally blurted.
“For what?” her uncle asked. He was watching her over his glasses.
She turned to Moe, head to the side, remorse wetting her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she repeated in a choked voice. “I helped Spencer. It was his idea. We just… Moe’s not family.”
“You were in on this?” Roald asked.
She gave him a guilty, I’m-cute-don’t-be-mad look, complete with a little shoulder shrug.
Roald pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning against the table. “Kimi, you try my patience.” He waved to Zach to get his attention, even though the man was already focused on him. “Your officer friend might need to have a discussion with my niece, as well.”
Zach nodded and drew a rather defeated looking Kimi outside. She sent soulful, pleading looks to her uncle, but he was unaware.
Logan, who had been quietly observing the scene, his arms crossed on his chest, turned to Amy. “How about some coffee?” He tipped his head toward the men. “They’ve got more dealing to do and might need a little something to fortify them.”
“Shot of whiskey in that coffee, maybe?” she asked with a mischievous smile.
Logan chuckled. “That should do fine.”
“Amy?” Roald called.
She turned. Moe could tell by the set of her jaw that she was still hurt from the way the man had fired her.
“I’m sorry I overstepped and dismissed you. Moe, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I also apologize on behalf of the family for Kimi and Spencer’s behavior. I know that Cesar wanted you to have the pub and I know you’ll run it in a spirit that would have made him proud.”
For the next hour Moe sat beside his wife, sipping spiked coffee with Roald, as they discussed how best to go about getting Brew Babies into his and Amy’s names, while the Phipps heirs had a very long conversation with Scott down at the station.
Epilogue
“Congratulations to the new owners of Brew Babies!” Ginger McGinty exclaimed, raising her glass to clink it against Moe’s, then Amy’s. The cheer was echoed throughout the full pub.
“Thank you,” Amy said, taking a sip of her sparkling water.
“And why might you be drinking something nonalcoholic?” Ginger asked, batting her lashes.
“I’m working. And with everyone toasting us tonight, I would be drunk within an hour.”
“Sure, sure.” She gave Amy a wink, which was returned with a sly and telling smile.
“Any word on who you’re going to hire as manager?” Logan asked.
“Not yet,” Moe replied. “Still looking.”
He’d decided to keep with the bartender role until the baby came. At that point he’d work casually, coming home for supper and tucking in the little one, as well as Amy, then head back over to the pub for a few more hours. He’d have a manager and another bartender take care of things on a regular basis, and he’d get to come and go as needed. His income might not be quite as high as if he was taking care of it all himself, but he’d be available and present, and most of all happy.
Zach sat beside Ginger, looking glum. His bottle of beer clunked as he set it back on the bar. “I thought you were going to find me someone.”
“You need someone special,” Ginger announced. “Someone I haven’t met yet.”
“Well, hurry it up, or I’ll mail-order someone,” Zach said, pushing away from the bar and heading toward the old jukebox, which had been brought back out of storage. The stolen one had been returned to the rightful owner, as well as almost a quarter million dollars’ worth of other stolen merchandise. It looked as though Scott, after Zach gave him credit for that bust, might just get some help out in Blueberry Springs, after all.
As for Spencer, he was facing quite a few charges, and it looked as though he’d be using his inheritance to cover legal fees. Kimi had lost Brew, Too, its doors closing within forty-eight hours of Roald receiving the file from Zach.
Amy didn’t wish ill upon the Phipps family, but she was happy things had worked out the way they were supposed to for Moe, and that Kimi and Spencer’s meddlesome ways had been revealed by Zach. Contacting him had been a last-minute flash of inspiration as she and Moe were figuring out how to convince Roald that Moe should be the owner of Brew Babies. Zach and his tech skills had unearthed enough info within thirty-six hours that they could have their sit-down with Roald.
“Why do you look so disgusted?” she asked Ginger.
“Zach keeps threatening to do that—mail-order a bride like she’s an object he can purchase, and not a real human being. Has he checked which century this is? There’s no way mail-order-bride services still exist.” She gave a little sniff and shook off her mood. “Anyway, I’ve gotta run. I’m getting a new shipment from Simone Pascal up in Canada. Semiformal and formal wear for teens. Christmas is coming and the girls are going to go crazy for this new line. There are even cool hair accessories that were designed specially for them.”
“Ginger, Christmas is still months away.”
“Never too soon to start stocking up, especially since women want their dresses eons in advance.”
“True. Enjoy your afternoon,” Amy said, sliding a beer—with perfect head, she noted—down to Scott, as her mother came around the bar.
“What are you doing back here?” Amy asked. Never in all her years of working at Brew Babies had her mom been comfortable enough to even consider coming into this employee-only zone, let alone sit down for more than a quick drink with a friend, as if to show she was indeed cool with her daughter being her server.
But this? This was new.
“I brought you something.” Her mother slid a canvas bag off her shoulder and shushed someone who was trying to get Amy’s attention, to place a drink order.
“Sorry, we’ll be just a second.” Amy drew her mom a bit farther down the bar, where it was quieter. “What is it?”
“I thought you could use these.” She began hauling baby books out of her bag.
Amy placed a hand over her mother’s, directing the books back into hiding. “We’re not telling
people yet.”
Her mom stared at her. “But everyone knows.”
Amy sighed. Small towns. Nothing was ever a secret for long.
“Oh, don’t sigh at me. I’m trying, Amy. I really am.”
Faith’s tone brought Amy’s attention back to her, instead of Zach hunched over the old jukebox, looking forlorn.
“I love you,” her mother continued, “and I should have trusted you sooner to do things your way, without interfering and trying to convince you to do things my way. I stepped back for a few months, and look at all you’ve accomplished.” She stood back, arms out, as though taking credit for the pub, Moe and the baby.
“Mom…”
“Sure, there were times it looked as if you were going to crash and burn, and I sat with your dad, nearly in tears.”
“Mom…”
“I should have trusted you.”
“I love you, too, Mom. And you were right. I was selfish and made big messes, expecting others to clean them up.”
“I never said that, did I?” Faith looked aghast.
“You didn’t have to. I’m me. And that means I’ll never be Jillian.”
Her mother cupped Amy’s face in her cool hands. “No, of course you won’t be her. And I’m glad. Because that means you’ll be you. My perfect whirlwind daughter, who is smart, strong and courageous. You’re unafraid to claim what you want in your life, and the naysayers don’t matter. You’re everything I’m afraid to be, and everything a mom wants in her daughter—fearlessness.” She shook her head softly as though unable to believe Amy was real, her expression so affectionate it made Amy’s eyes well up.
“Sorry, it’s the hormones.” Amy dabbed at her wet eyes. It was the hormones, but it was also the fact that she’d never felt this much approval from her mother before and it was a tad overwhelming.
Faith pulled her into a fierce hug before letting her go, then tucking the canvas bag under the bar. “I’m here if you need me. I can’t promise I won’t sometimes interfere when you’re parenting, but I’ll try to be tolerable.” She smiled and winked, her eyes glassy with emotion as she slipped into the crowd of well-wishers.
