Chapter 18
Jasper
The high ceiling was made of cedar beams, and copper tanks gleamed in the back of the space. A massive bar stretched along one side, lined with dozens of taps and gleaming glassware.
Unsurprisingly, the place was packed. Tapping the first keg of a new brew usually drew a crowd.
The bar hummed with chatter and a light seasoning of tension. Clusters of service industry folks gathered together. A few off-duty firefighters ribbed one another. One table was full of teachers. Even a few tourists were here, posing for selfies near the taxidermied moose head.
And, of course, the Maple Street Mafia had set up at two high tops near the front of the room.
I gave them a solicitous wave, pleased with myself when Olive Foster gave me a small smile. Bitsy Bramble glared, and Dot, Marigold, and Sally didn’t even acknowledge me. They were too preoccupied with the tasting flights lined up in front of them.
Nate’s face lit up when he saw me. My cousin was a science nerd turned technical brewmaster. He’d opened this place a few years ago with Chief Ashburn’s little brother Reed. The two of them made quite a team. They’d put a lot of work into making this place a success.
So I’d come tonight to support them, even though my thoughts were elsewhere. My muscle memory said grab a pint, find some friends, flirt with girls. But my brain was fully fixated on Vincent, who was probably enjoying a bath right now.
This used to be my place. I’d eat a pretzel, chase it with a pint or two of good beer, and talk to people. Listen to music. Unwind.
The louder and more chaotic a place, the easier it was for me to relax.
But that had all changed recently. Tonight, the chaos made me agitated and uneasy.
“Hey, Jas.” A small, warm hand landed on my bicep.
On instinct, I shuddered and spun around. “Brynne.” I gave her a tight smile.
She pulled me in for a hug that felt all wrong. “Haven’t seen you in ages,” she said, her tone flirtatious. She sipped her beer and raised a pierced eyebrow in challenge.
Brynne was an old friend, and yes, we’d hooked up off and on for years. She was pretty, fun, and a champion skier turned instructor who spent most summers partying and rock climbing.
“Been busy,” I said. “I’m a dad now.” With that statement, I stepped back, putting some distance between us.
The playful smile on her face fell, like she was registering the words I wasn’t saying out loud. “I heard. That’s so great. Congratulations.”
Before I could respond, Reed stood on top of a barrel and shouted, garnering the attention of all the patrons.
“All right, Maplewood. Y’all know the drill. One clean strike, minimal foam. Let’s pretend to be civilized.”
“Safety glasses on,” Nate cautioned from where he stood beside the barrel, along with Reed’s wife, Faith.
I used the distraction as a chance to get some distance from Brynne and wandered toward my cousin.
As I approached, I offered him my hand. “You finally dialed the summer ale?”
He nodded, adjusting his safety glasses. “Took me weeks. I was trying to achieve a drier finish.”
Reed gave him a playful punch, then pressed a kiss to his wife’s cheek. “Leave it to Nate to try to create an emotionally unavailable beer.”
He hefted the mallet in his hand, then held it up. Those of us standing near took a big a step back. “Tip your bartenders,” he shouted.
The crowd erupted in cheers, then began a countdown.
Reed’s strike was clean, causing white foam to spurt out around the tap Faith was holding in place.
The cheers started up again, the sound deafening.
After adjusting the tap, Nate filled two glasses. Then he and Reed posed in front of the keg for photos.
We all lined up for a taste, the scent of hops and lemon soon filling the air. I accepted a glass from Nate, and immediately, the hint of lemon brought an image of Evie to mind. The scent was reminiscent of how Evie’s hair had smelled when we were so close the other night.
That thought came with an echo of the delicious anticipation of almost kissing her.
I was tempted to text her a photo and ask her how Vincent was doing, but I resisted. We’d made so much progress recently, and the last thing I needed was to scare her off. She had opened up to me and shared her fears, and every day, she allowed me to play a bigger role in Vincent’s life.
Life would be easy if I slid back into my old lifestyle. Became that guy again. Loud laughter, bar tabs, groggy mornings. It took work to hold steady, to earn trust dirty diaper by dirty diaper.
I reached for that guy, like I did occasionally, trying to connect that version of myself, but day by day, he faded farther away.
So I resolved to sip my beer and enjoy the evening.
Minutes later, Gabe pushed his way through the crowd, a tense smile on his face.
His sleeves were rolled up and he was putting off that “I run off four hours of sleep and Italian espresso” vibe, his hair shaggier than usual, his five-o’-clock shadow approaching unruly stubble, and his normally bright eyes dull.
He gave Nate a big hug and a genuine smile. “Proud of you brother.”
The two of them posed for a photo with their parents, my Aunt Suzie and Uncle Ed, who’d come to town for a visit. Then Gabe downed a sample glass in one gulp.
“Mister Mayor,” one of Maple Street Mafia ladies calls out.
The smile he wore now was the professional one. The one that helped him keep the townsfolk happy, though it slipped when he caught sight of the empties piled up on the table in front of them.
Oh no. The last thing we needed was a repeat of last year’s Oktoberfest.
“We need to talk,” Gabe said to me.
Before I responded, Opal appeared with a tray of what looked like sliders.
She was the executive chef at Thistle & Boar, the fancy restaurant at the inn, and a tiny ball of culinary energy who’d earned a Michelin star early in her career, then decided to make Maplewood her home.
Each time Nate and Reed launched a new beer, she’d set up a pop-up and serve the most incredible food.
My mouth watered as I got a look at the food on her tray.
“Charred corn and brown butter lobster sliders?” she asked.
“Bless you, Opal.” Gabe took two and immediately shoved one into his mouth whole.
“The glaze has some bite,” she said as I plucked one from the tray a little less violently.
“So do you,” I teased.
She gave me a warm smile. “I always liked you. Now,” she said, her expression going serious, “make sure this one eats. We can’t have him fainting in the middle of his big press conference tomorrow.”
Press conference? I eyed my cousin, searching for an explanation. Damn, I was out of loop.
But before Gabe stopped chewing, a whole crowd descended.
“Mayor,” Tony said, weaving his hulking form through the crowd. “I’m down 30 percent week over week. If this month tanks, I’ll be tossing dough in the dark.”
Tony was joined by Marty, who ran the diner alongside his mother. Mac, who owned the ice cream shop, appeared next, and then Nora, our pharmacist.
“Bus tours have been canceled,” Marty added. “Apparently people don’t want murder syrup with their pancakes.”
“Caroline and Linda had a wedding cancellation next month,” Nora said, pushing her jeweled glasses up her nose. “The father of the bride asked if our river was contaminated. What on earth is happening?”
Gabe slipped into his mayor mask, his demeanor completely calm, and held his hands up. “I hear you. This is a difficult situation for everyone. And we’re coordinating with the state. I’ve requested additional investigative support and—”
“Coordinating doesn’t pay the bills,” Bitsy snapped. She’d left her friends and pushed her way into our group. Now, hands on her hips, clad in all purple, she scowled. “Or hire seasonal staff. You need to fix this, Gabriel. The entire town is terrified, what with a murderer running around.”
Several people milling around nearby moved closer, a crowd gathering around us.
Gabe’s jaw ticked, signaling that he was at the end of his rope.
“What’s that?” I pushed up on my toes and peered at Nate, who was on the other side of the bar, a concerned look on his face. “Sorry, guys,” I said, pulling Gabe by the arm. “Nate needs us in the kitchen. Busy night. Family’s gotta chip in.”
Quickly, we pushed through the crowd to the kitchen, but I didn’t stop until we hit the keg room.
“You okay?” I asked my cousin. “That was intense.”
Gabe, shoulders slumped, shook his head.
“What do you need?”
When he looked up at me, it was like he’d aged a decade.
The weight of carrying this town was getting to him.
“I need an arrest,” he said softly. “I need to be able to tell the citizens of this town that they are safe. I need Nolan to get some rest, and I need him to not kill himself trying to find this murderer. And I need to get through Founder’s Day without a recall petition. ”
I blinked, the weight of his words settling in. He took his role so seriously and sacrificed so much for this town, yet so many seemed close to turning on him.
“Actually.” He sighed. “You can do one thing for me.”
“Anything.”
“Call Brian. File the paperwork.”
I reeled back. The words were like a physical blow. “You called Brian?”
My sister’s fiancé Brian was a big deal family law attorney.
He’d recently passed the Vermont bar so their family could spend summers here.
I liked the guy a lot, but professionally, he was an absolute shark.
He’d gone above and beyond for Jess and my nieces, and he’d even managed to fuck over her shitty ex-husband in the process.
“He’s the best,” Gabe said. “And together we can get you through this.”
Anger stirred to life in my gut. “There’s nothing to get through.”
He closed his eyes and exhaled. “Dude, the kid’s three months old.”
“My son Vincent is three months old,” I gritted out, my hands balled into fists. “And his mother and I are doing great.”
Gabe crossed his arms, giving me a big brother look that dripped with condescension.