Chapter 9
Clara
I wondered what he thought of our town and the bar. Surely, he'd seen a lot of cities and towns over the years for his business. A town centered on Christmas couldn't be that exciting for someone like him.
But he seemed to enjoy the visit to the pizza parlor, and he'd bought a book and a puzzle. It didn't seem like he was doing it to be polite.
"I can get a feel for a town and a business opportunity by immersing myself in the community."
"Ah. That's why you want to go inside and check things out."
His gaze traveled around the room, taking in the bar, the tables, and the dim lighting. "You want to sit at the bar or a table?"
"The bar since it's just the two of us."
He strode in that direction, and I followed a bit more slowly. Should I suggest that he call my brothers and continue the evening with them? The truth was, I kind of wanted him to myself for a bit longer. I enjoyed dinner and even shopping together.
He didn't think our town was too small or predictable for him. He seemed to relish in what made a small town unique.
I sat on the bar stool, and he sat next to me. "What's good?"
"He has some brews on tap," I said, repeating what I'd heard one of my brothers say.
Beck waved the bartender over, and he asked him about the options. I let my gaze lower to the scruff that lined his jaw.
The bartender walked away, and Beck shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair.
"You feel comfortable anywhere you go," I observed.
His gaze snagged on mine. "I guess you could say that."
"You could be in a city one day and a small town the next?" I asked, wanting to know more about his life outside of my brother. I wanted to remind myself that he wasn't here for a long time. He had a life somewhere else.
"I probably spend more time in cities. I'm only here because Malcolm is a friend. I don't ordinarily consult on the viability of a brewery on the property of a family-run inn."
"You're saying we're small potatoes compared to what you normally deal with?" I teased.
He nodded. "You could say that too."
"And you're only here because Malcolm asked for your help." I wanted to know more about his motives. How he operated and what he might want from me.
"He's never asked for anything, and I want to help him if I can."
"You're a good friend." Another reason why I shouldn't be thinking of a repeat.
He rested his elbows on the wooden bar. "I hope so."
"Do you have a home base? A place you go to when you're between jobs."
He shook his head, his gaze drifting to the TV on the wall playing a sports commentary show. "I don't."
"You don't have anywhere you'd call home?" I asked, more than a little surprised, because I always thought of Colorado as that.
He let his head fall a little, but he didn't meet my gaze. "I go where the job takes me."
I nudged his elbow. "Where are you from?"
He glanced over at me. "Denver.”
I wonder why he felt the need to share that information with me. "Your family's in Denver then?"
"I don’t keep in touch with my parents.”
That was it. No further explanation. And it felt curt, as if he didn't intend to offer me anything more. "You don't visit?"
"No."
It was safe to assume that his family life wasn't the best. But we didn't know each other well enough for me to pry. "Do you consider Malcolm a part of your family?"
"Malcolm has a family." He pressed his lips together, his gaze on the bar.
So that was a no. "Have you ever heard of a found family?"
"Nope."
I had a feeling he preferred to change the topic. He didn't want to talk about his family life at all. "Family isn't always blood. It's the friends and people you surround yourself with, the ones you can depend on."
"You got that?" he asked, watching the bartender move our way.
"I have a great group of friends here in town."
The bartender placed two glasses of amber liquid in front of us.
Beck gripped the glass. "I suppose you don't need a found family when you have the real thing."
I sighed. "This is going to sound crazy, but I don't always feel part of the family. I'm the youngest. The only girl. I felt left out a lot. I know that sounds a little woe is me, because I had a great childhood and my family loves me, but I can't help how I feel."
"It must have been hard growing up with so many brothers," he said simply.
"It wasn't easy."
"And then you were told to run your grandmother's shop, not the business the rest of your family was involved in. I could see how that would bother you."
I sipped the beer, wanting to change the subject. "Do you have any initial thoughts on the viability of Rowan's brewery?"
He pursed his lips. "It's too soon. I haven't even looked at the inn's and restaurant's books yet. I look at everything—the community, the existing customer base, marketing efforts, and finances—before I make a decision."
"It's a long process."
"It doesn't take that long to look at everything and make an assessment. I tend to go by my initial feelings too. Sometimes the numbers don't support a venture, but you know that it will come. Risks are everything in business."
I blew out a breath. "I've never taken a risk. I just took over the existing business and continued almost everything how my grandmother had it. The only change was the themed trees."
"That was a cool idea though."
"I should be doing something else to take risks." Maybe rent the back room like he said. I didn't think it would satisfy my restlessness, but it was something.
"You want me to take a look at your business?" he asked, looking over at me.
I rolled my eyes. "My business is well below your capabilities. Besides it makes money. Enough for me to live on."
"I don't mind checking into it."
The door to the bar opened, and Malcolm came in, his gaze scanning the room until he found us.
I nudged Beck. "Malcolm's here."
He stood and accepted Malcolm's back slap slash hug. "I'm rescuing you, sis. Get out of here."
I stood and hugged him. "Are you sure?"
"Your obligations to this bore are over," he said as he slapped Beck on the shoulder.
"Okay. Well. Thanks." I guess? I felt like I was connecting with Beck. And this was the last time we'd get to hang out. Then to Beck, I said, "I hope you enjoyed your tour."
Beck inclined his head toward me. "It was a good time."
I pulled on my jacket and grabbed my purse. "Have fun." I moved away, wondering why I felt deflated. I should be relieved to be done with the tour and Beck.
When I reached the door, I looked back at them. They were sitting next to each other, talking. I had my night with Beck, but that was over now.
I'd done my duty, and now I could move on with my life. I couldn't help but think if I'd met him again under different circumstances, if he wasn't my brother's friend, would I ask for a repeat? I think I would, and that was the problem.
My body wasn't getting on the same page as my brain which already knew that nothing could happen. I was still holding out for more. Especially after the night had gone far better than I anticipated. Not only did we have physical chemistry, but I enjoyed talking to him.
I drove home and parked in the driveway, making a mental note to talk to Mom about finally clearing out the garage. I wasn't a fan of cleaning snow off my car all winter when I had a perfectly good garage I could park in.
Inside, I made tea. I stood at the island, waiting for the water to boil. Mom didn't visit very often, if at all. Family events were held at her house. Why did I need to keep everything the same?
I swiped the doilies off the end tables on either side of the couch, folding them neatly.
I could give them to my mom. Maybe she'd want to keep them in her house.
Feeling better about how the tables looked, I grabbed an empty box from the garage and filled it with knickknacks. I felt better already, lighter somehow.
Maybe this is why I felt stuck. I'd never cleared the clutter. My life was literally filled with other people's stuff. It wasn't even my own. And if Mom had a problem with me cleaning out the house, well then, she could live here.
This was my house, and I was past ready for it to be mine.
When the box was filled, I sat back on my heels.
Did I even like this house? Yeah, I inherited it, and I only paid for the taxes.
But did I like it? Did I want a rancher?
Did I want to live in an older neighborhood that didn't have families and younger children?
The problem was that I wasn't sure what I wanted. But it felt right to clean out these few items. Tomorrow, I'd tackle the artwork.
I wasn't even sure what I'd decorate the house with. I was so used to living in someone else's space. It was beyond time to figure out what I wanted and who I was.
I wasn't just the youngest Hart kid. Or the only girl. I was Clara Hart, an independent woman who went after what she wanted.
Just as soon as I figured out what that was.
I woke up early and removed the old artwork from the walls, stacking it for my family to look at. Maybe one of my brothers would want something for his home. It was selfish for me to keep all the stuff for myself.
I chuckled to myself as I continued through each room, dusting the frames, and setting them carefully by the door. I could just see my brothers' faces when I told them I'd removed Gran's pictures.
They'd be shocked at my behavior. I never did anything like this. But I felt a thrill at doing something that was out of character. Gran gave me this house, and I could do what I wanted with it. It wasn't like I was throwing her stuff out. I was offering it to other family members.
I wasn't doing anything that was wrong or bad. And it felt so good. I had a twinge of guilt when I thought of Mom's disappointment in me. But I had to stand strong and do what was right for me.
Maybe I was supposed to meet Beck. He was the catalyst for this new decluttering phase I was entering. Clear out the old to make way for the new. That was a thing, right?
Then I went to work, and instead of going through my usual routine of cleaning the store, I opened my laptop and created a flyer to rent the backroom.
Hosting classes in this space would bring more people in.
I was creating a community meeting place.
This was a good thing. And it was more money in my pocket.
There was nothing wrong with making more money.
Or adapting the business to my vision. I didn't have to keep everything the same.
It was my business to do what I wanted with it. But I wanted more validation. So I texted my friends.
Clara: Anyone up for a meeting? I need some advice.
I needed someone outside my family to tell me that I was on the right track. Because I already knew what my family would say. That I was erasing Gran's memory. I wouldn’t mind some advice about my personal life either but I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk about Beck with my friends.
Belle: Let's meet at my store. I'll keep the fire going.
Meg: I'll grab the wine.
Reina: I'll pick up a charcuterie board from the new market on the corner.
We hadn't even gotten a chance to see the new market when I was showing Beck around.
Clara: You're the best.
Belle: Well, duh.
Reina: I think she meant all of us.
I laughed out loud. It felt good to follow my intuition. For so long, I did what was expected. But now, I wanted to figure out who I was. I wasn't anyone's little sister. Not anymore.
I was a business owner. A strong confident woman who didn't get hung up on one-night stands.
Beck: You didn't finish my tour.
A thrill shot through me that he was making this a thing. Was he angling to see me again? But I couldn't resist teasing him.
Clara: Malcolm relieved me of my duties, remember?
Beck: At the bar. Not for the tour.
Clara: We'll have to disagree.
I was enjoying this back-and-forth.
Beck: I'll stop by and take you out to dinner. How about the Mistletoe Inn?
Clara: I'm going out with the girls tonight.
I had an excuse not to see him again. I should have been relieved, and I wasn't sure how I felt about him telling me we were going out versus asking.
Beck: Tomorrow then.
I turned over my phone. I could ignore him. Until he went to my mother and told her I hadn't fulfilled my obligations. Ugh. Mom guilt was a thing.
I didn't want Mom giving me a hard time about this. The good-girl side usually won out, and he probably had figured that out by now. I had to finish the original assignment, or I couldn't let myself off the hook.
Clara: Just a tour. No dinner. That was the original deal.
We'd gotten sidetracked with dinner and later the bar. I wouldn't let that happen again.
Beck: I'll stop by the store at closing time then.
Clara: Bring your walking shoes.
I was finishing this tour, no matter what. I wouldn't let him draw this out any longer. Even if I was secretly excited to see him again.
But he'd asked me to dinner. What did that mean? Did he like me? Did he want to extend our one-night stand?
I shouldn't be having any of these thoughts. I'd made a mistake with him once. I couldn't do it again. We had an excuse the first time. Neither of us knew who we were to each other. Now we knew the ramifications.
Nothing could happen between us again. No matter how much my body was on board with another round.