Chapter 21 #2
We both looked up as the door opened again.
My stupid heart wished for West, and again I was disappointed.
Then the face came into focus, and I smiled.
Here was a friend. Andy Weber, fellow brewer.
He worked for one of the big multi-nationals based out of Asheville, saying he liked the health insurance, and the work environment was top-notch.
I hadn’t seen him in a while, but we’d taken classes on brewing together at AB Tech ages ago and had always been friends.
“Ave, tell me you have some of that fall brew left.” He said, leaning on the bar and shooting me a familiar grin.
There was only a slight prick to my heart as I shook my head. “We sold every drop at the thing on Halloween. I have a harvest lager.”
“I heard that was good. I’ll take that.” Andy settled onto a stool.
Ford got up quietly and wandered away, leaving us alone to talk. I was grateful I didn’t have to introduce them. After our father’s murder, Ford’s name wasn’t low profile. Neither of us wanted to talk about it.
“How are things going?” Andy asked.
“You mean in general or since I fired Matthew?” I asked.
“Both.”
I saw the look on Andy’s face and had a sinking feeling in my gut. “This isn’t a random visit with an old friend, is it?” I asked, sliding him his beer. He took a long sip, really tasting the beer, and smiled.
“Fucking A, this is great,” he said appreciatively. Then he shook his head. “I wish it were a friendly visit.” He let out a long sigh. “There’s been some talk. The Holiday Jam food truck thing.”
“Yeah?” I asked, already feeling the weight of dread pressing on my chest. “Let me guess. The organizers feel that I’m not reliable enough to handle my usual spot, so they’re replacing me. ”
Andy’s face fell. “How’d you know? It’s not official. Just talk, but?—”
“Because it wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened since I fired Matthew,” I said, resigned to the fact that it also wouldn’t be the last.
“He’s got a mouth on him, that’s for sure,” Andy said.
“I didn’t like him when you hired him, but he had the resume.
” Andy shrugged. “He talks a good game. And a lot of these assholes want to believe it, Ave. You’re female and you’re a Sawyer.
You know, nepo baby, plus what’s a woman doing brewing beer?
It all snowballs into a big pile of bullshit. ”
I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I know.”
And I did. That was the core of it. The problem was, I couldn’t change who I was, nor did I want to. My father aside, I was proud of where I came from and what I’d made of myself, despite how it looked on the outside.
And fuck anyone who said that I couldn’t do this because I was a woman.
“I put in a word for you,” he said, leaning forward.
“You’ve got friends in the Brewers Association.
” He took another long sip of his lager.
“I wanted to give you a heads up and tell you to hang in there—there are a lot of people who have your back, and Matthew’s still a newcomer, you know?
This is going to work itself out. You just keep brewing awesome beer. ”
“Beer solves all problems, right?” I said with a wry smile.
“Always.” Andy came around the bar to give me a hug.
Andy left after draining the rest of his beer.
I watched the door shut behind him and wondered how long I was going to have to hang in there before Matthew’s poison lost its strength.
How long it was going to take before the universe decided I’d learned my lesson and he stopped being such a fucking pain in my ass.
Ford wandered back over, shoving his hands in his back pockets. “Matthew again?”
“Yeah,” I said, rolling back my shoulders and lifting my chin. “I can handle it.”
“I know you can, Ave. Maybe you should think about asking for help.”
I had no idea what he meant by that. Before I could puzzle it out, he said, “Show me your new beer. The one you’re formulating to replace the fall brew.”
“There’s not much to see,” I said. After glancing around to see that no one needed a fresh beer, I led Ford back into the brewery. The door swung shut behind us, and I brought him to the long table in the corner covered in rows of brown bottles, all neatly labeled XP 2: experimental version two.
“If it’s in bottles, can we drink it?” he asked, glancing at me with curiosity bright in his eyes.
“Not yet. I was thinking we’d try it on Thanksgiving.” I’d been toying with the idea. Maybe it would be awful. And if it was, we’d laugh it off and I’d try again. Doing it as a family felt right.
“So, you’re almost there.” Ford wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. I leaned into his side.
“Maybe. If it sucks, I’ll tinker with the recipe some more. ”
“It’s not going to suck,” he said.
We stood there for a moment, staring at the rows of brown bottles. My new beginning. Maybe.
Ford spoke quietly into the silence. “He’s not worth it, Avery.”
“Who? Matthew?” I didn’t understand what he meant.
“No. Dad. He’s not worth you risking your life.
You’ve got talent and a good business, and a man who cares about you.
Don’t throw it away over Prentice. You’ll get yourself killed trying to find out who shot him.
The world is a better place with Dad dead, and we both know it.
Don’t throw away everything you have trying to get him justice. ”
I stepped back and glared up at my older brother. “This isn’t about Prentice. They threw you in prison for a year.”
“And now I’m out,” Ford said. “I’m here, and I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” How could he say he was fine? He was a shadow of the man he’d been.
“Did it ever occur to you that I deserved what I got?” he asked, his tone so reasonable it knocked me back a step.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Avery, I was complicit in so many of the things Dad did. I was involved in letting our brother get kidnapped and almost killed. I could have stopped it, and I didn’t, and he—” Ford’s voice cut off, and he looked at the floor.
“We almost lost Finn, Avery, and it would have been my fault. And that’s not even the worst thing I did.
If my penance is spending a year in prison and everyone thinking I’m a murderer, I can live with that.
If you get yourself killed trying to clear my name…
” His voice cracked, and my breath caught in my chest.
“Ford, I…”
His eyes met mine, raw pain burning in the green depths.
“Everything I’ve already done is bad enough.
Don’t make me live with losing you, too.
” He blinked, and the intensity of his emotion dimmed.
“Go talk to West,” he said seriously. “I get that after Matthew, you’re wary of being manipulated or controlled, but that’s not what’s happening here. ”
I sighed, seeing it clearly for the first time in four days.
“Yeah, okay,” I said, feeling like the biggest jerk on the planet. Did I only think about myself and what I wanted?
“You’ll back off and let the investigation go?” Ford pressed.
I nodded. “I’m sorry. I was so focused on finding the answers, I didn’t think about getting hurt or how you’d feel about it.”
“I know you didn’t, Ave,” he said, pulling me into a tight hug.
He hung around for another stout, and we played a game of checkers at the bar before his phone chimed and he pushed back his seat. “My ride back to the Manor is here.”
I watched him go, wondering how my independent brother could tolerate being driven around, always under guard. He was essentially a prisoner again. It made me wonder how bad actual prison had been, if this was tolerable.
Dave came through the door, and I waved, ready to hand off the bar to him and disappear into my office or go home.
I stared at the screen of my phone, thinking.
I could text West, ask if he could talk.
Or I could go by his place. I could do something other than wallow, feeling like a brat for taking out all my frustration on him when he was just trying to do his job.
As I stared blindly at the screen, a text message popped up. It was Bob James from Wild Haven Brewing.
Do you have time to talk? I’m in my office until 6.
There are things you should know.
Bob had replaced me with Bear Run Brewing for the kids’ Christmas charity event.
Did he want me to come back? No, that couldn’t be it.
He would have said in the text. But maybe not.
What did he know that I should know? It had to do with Matthew.
I was sure of that. When it came to Matthew, I could use all the ammo I could get.
Be there in 15.
Seconds later, a thumbs-up emoji popped up on the screen. Maybe Bob could tell me something I could use to shut Matthew up once and for all.
And then afterwards, I could pop by West’s. And we’d talk.