Chapter 17 Kira
SEVENTEEN
KIRA
I WANTED THE BEST
I glanced at my watch. As usual, Ronan threw off my schedule. However, I did take five minutes to scarf down the lunch he brought me. And okay, that was a little thoughtful.
And I wouldn’t be disappointed I didn’t see him tonight, dammit.
Nope.
Not at all.
But the buzz under my skin from our quick semi-make out in the storeroom pushed me through another three interviews. Two of which were very promising.
“Hey, Key there’s a very purple Jeep pulling up outside.”
My palms instantly tingled. “Thanks, Annette.”
I had a feeling that was Lennon. Her purple Jeep was often featured in her social media posts. The buzz from Ronan now transformed into a hum of nerves.
Annette backed away from the double doors and met me at the bar.
She was the first person I’d hired on as part of the permanent staff.
She’d manned the old taproom shack during concerts and bummed around Happy Acres, jumping from the bakery to covering weddings—pretty much wherever Laverne needed her.
She was tired of juggling jobs and wanted a steady schedule where she could learn the business side of things.
We’d both been at the orchard for over a decade and worked well together.
“Did I see Ronan stop in?”
I willed my face not to flush. “Yeah. Can you put a case of the Bourbon Barrel cider, a bottle of the Brothers Bourbon, and two bottles of moonshine on Ronan’s account? He’s got a friend in town, and I think they’re going to get stupid with it.”
“Is he as hot as Ronan?”
“I have no idea.” I slipped off my heels to flex my feet on the soft cushioned mat behind the bar. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. One Viking was enough of a problem as far as I was concerned. “I don’t think it was an expected visit. He’ll be in tomorrow for the chef interviews.”
“Damn. I do enjoy watching him wrestle with those big buckets.”
“You like watching any guy with shoulders.”
“That’s a fact.” She grinned and fixed her messy bun. The door opened and she turned, leaning against the bar with her arms folded. “Think your appointment has finally gotten out of her vehicle.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Holy shit. None of us will have a chance with any male if she gets a job.”
I hurriedly stepped back into my shoes and walked around the walnut bar. I’d waited until the final installation of the bar and the first liquor delivery to do these interviews.
Lennon Hathaway had a compact, curvy body packed in jet black jeans with holes at the knees.
A cropped black T-shirt showed off her strict yoga and Pilates regimen.
This woman definitely didn’t have any extra around the middle like I did.
She wore flat sandals in deference to the heat and her magenta and black hair was scraped back into a high ponytail.
Not exactly interview attire, but she walked in with her shoulders back and chin up.
She knew the interview was more formality and her sizing me and mine up.
I looked through her résumé on her website before contacting her for a meeting.
She’d had an impressive list of awards, high end bars she’d guest starred at for events, the celebrity parties she’d run, and of course her Bar Expo awards, save for last year when I’d stolen her title.
I met her with an equal level of alpha energy. I may want her for her cachet to build up our reputation, but she would not be walking all over me.
I held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Kira Webb.”
She glanced at my hand and arched a brow. “I know who you are.”
I continued to hold my hand out and met her glacial stare with a warm smile. “And I know who you are. Lennon Hathaway, flair artist, mixologist, six-time Bar Expo champion, should I go on?”
The ice in her gaze thawed a little and she shook my hand. “I should be seven-time Bar Expo champion. You got lucky.”
“No, I’m good.”
Lennon’s dark eyes narrowed, then she threw her head back with a laugh. “Okay, you got me there.” She dropped my handshake and instead held her fist out for a bump. “You were surprising. You won’t beat me again.”
“It was a onetime deal. Training for that left me with more bruises than a full season in the orchard when I was seventeen.”
“Hmm. Not sure how I feel about that. I’d prefer a rematch.”
“And I prefer to go out on top.”
Lennon’s eyes sparkled then. “I do prefer to be on top too.”
A laugh bubbled up before I could catch it. “Can’t deny that one either. How about I show you around?”
“I’m not really in the market for a permanent gig. I get bored.”
“And yet you came to see me?” The quick kick of disappointment nearly cracked my genial smile.
“I was curious why the woman who beat me would call me up for a job.”
“I wanted the best.”
Lennon’s dark stained lips quirked up at the corner. “Well, I am that. But I really don’t think you can afford me.”
“You’d be surprised with what I can afford.”
“Then why don’t you run the bar?”
I held out my arm. “Let me show you why.”
She huffed out a breath. “Fine.”
“We’ll look at the bar last.”
Lennon’s gaze tracked to the bar before flicking back to me. “All good.”
My heels clicked on the hardwood floors.
“We just had the final buff done on the floors and we’ll be setting up the tables next week.
” They’d been lovingly renovated and patched in areas that hadn’t been able to be saved from the old barn.
The dark stain had been a gamble, especially with all the wrought iron in the space.
I pointed to the secondary bar we had installed.
I hadn’t bothered to talk to Ronan about that.
I had a vision and I had to stick with it and trust it was correct.
“We have a smaller bar for busy nights but it can also be used as a food station. If you work here you’d be responsible for the main bar and training people. ”
“Wait, training?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’m not only looking for your expertise behind the bar, but for you to teach my bartenders.”
“Flair isn’t exactly something you pick up.”
“Flair is only part of your repertoire. I know you specialize in mixology as well. And you’ve been branching out.”
“And where did you learn that?” She stopped in the middle of the dining room and crossed her arms. “It’s not on my website.”
“No, but you’re not exactly shy about it. YouTube, subreddits, socials—you name it, you get tagged.”
She gave me a sly grin. “You cyber stalking me, Ms. Webb?”
“Kira. And yes—I sure did. That party you did for Brooklyn Dawn’s album release a few years ago still gets reshared.”
Lennon’s smile went from sly to wide and delighted. “That guitarist chick, Jamie, sure knows how to party. I swear we almost got arrested.”
“She is always a handful. Her manager’s family owns half of Happy Acres.”
“No shit? That frosty blond? The one that looks like a Barbie and an ice queen had a baby?”
“Lila, yes. Rockstars are in and out of the orchard all summer. Our opening night coincides with Ian Kagan’s concert here in late August.”
“Huh. Ain’t that some shit.”
I stuffed down the urge to smile. I was getting to her. “Let me show you the patio.”
She glanced around the dining room with a more shrewd eye before following me out the patio doors. It was a cooler day and we’d opened both the garage bay doors as well as the folding glass paneled doors for a breeze.
“The barn over there is our workshop for ciders. It’s the main focus for the taproom and what we are here for. We’ll be branching out into moonshine hopefully in a few years. We do small batches now, but we’re hoping to distribute soon.”
“Moonshine, huh? Like grandpa in the basement?”
“No, Hayes Manning is quite the chemist there. But moonshine still has a lot of red tape and we have to make sure it turns a profit before we dive into that.”
“Gotcha. I can’t say I’ve ever had one I liked.”
“Then you haven’t tried his Apple Pie Moon. Doesn’t even taste like alcohol.”
“And that’s dangerous.”
I laughed. “As me and my day spent next to the porcelain god can attest.” I stepped down the three stairs to the winding maze of fire pits. “Hayes only got me once.”
“Wow, this is a lot more space than I thought.” She put her hands on her hips and looked out on the orchards in the distance.
“The concert stage is over that way. Not too close so we can enjoy the music but not get blasted out. But nice for people who like to wander.”
She shivered a little. “Not exactly down with woods for the night walks.”
“It’s lit very well actually.” I pointed toward the swings on the edge of the property with wrought iron lamps. “Solar lights all over to make sure everyone’s safe.”
“It’s beautiful here.” Again, she turned toward the view.
“There’s a pumpkin patch down there too. We grow some other produce as well, which we’ll take advantage of for some of our tastings. We won’t be running a full menu here, more like pairings to go with our various ciders through the summer season.”
“I’m not sure how I fit here.”
“As I said, I want your name to help boost the younger set. Beckett Manning—one of the main owners of Brothers Three Orchard—wants to modernize and build off the concerts. Too many orchards are struggling, and diversifying will make sure we’re here for years to come.”
“Okay. I get that. But we’re a far cry from the major cities I usually work in.”
“Upstate and Central New York does well during the summer and fall seasons. People love to come up here, but there isn’t a whole lot of nightlife. We think it’s an untapped market.”
She looked back at the taproom. “And I’d have control of the bar?”
“Within reason. I do have a budget until we start turning a profit.” I tucked my hands into the pockets of my dress. “And you’d have winters off. Do what you want.”
She spun around. “So this is seasonal?”
I nodded. “Winters are tough up here. People like to bunk down and hibernate, especially during storms. It’s near impossible to have a regular schedule. We’ll rent out the space for events, but it’s up to you if you want in on that part.”
I could see her brain whirling. “And if I wanted to maybe do some events.”
“I’d be willing to talk about it.”
She smiled at me. “Let’s go see that bar.”
Relief rolled through me. “Maybe you can make me a drink.”
“I just may.” She ran up the stairs and inside.
I threw one last look out at the orchard that had been my solace for so long before following her into what I hoped would be my future.