Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Max stood at the brewery’s back entrance, watching a truck unload large metal canisters labeled BioClean. Flint stepped out in front of his crew, clipboard in hand, flashing a confident smile at Max.
The morning sun illuminated the shiny canisters, making them look almost futuristic against the rustic brewery. Flint’s team bustled around, each member wearing a professional uniform bearing the BioClean logo.
“You’ll be amazed how these microbes transform your water. Think of them as little warriors,” Flint said.
Max nodded stiffly. “Just make sure it’s done before we open for business.”
He clenched his jaw, uneasy at Flint’s slick sales tone, yet hoping this fixed the contamination crisis. The brewery couldn’t afford another batch of tainted beer, especially with the festival approaching.
Flint’s crew wheeled in hoses and connectors, positioning the specialized microbial canisters near the brewery’s waterline from the storage tanks. Max stood by, arms crossed, overseeing their progress. The canisters were sleek and cylindrical, fitted with digital gauges that showed temperature and flow rates. The hum of machinery echoed through the brewing floor.
“We’ll hook these up in series, letting the microbes feed on any harmful chemicals,” Flint said. “We calibrate them to your specific water composition.”
Max felt a flare of anxiety over the cost. He hoped the money wasn’t wasted on empty promises. The price tag had made him wince when signing the contract, but he saw no alternative. He pictured the festival looming, the community’s trust at stake. If Flint’s system worked as claimed, the expense would prove worthwhile.
As the installation continued, Max calculated how many successful months they needed to recoup the investment. The numbers didn’t quite add up, but he pushed that concern aside. Survival first, profits later.
Noah stormed into the brewing area, tablet in hand, confronting Max near the BioClean canisters. Gwen and Liv followed close behind, expressions tense. Noah’s brow was furrowed, lines of worry etched across his forehead. “This is a massive expense we didn’t budget for. You’re killing our finances, Max,” Noah said.
“First you don’t tell us about the water issues, and now this. Is this what you meant by ‘handling it,’ Max?” Liv said.
Gwen added, “Did you even compare other solutions?”
He felt cornered by his siblings, each demanding answers he didn’t have time to give. A flicker of guilt stirred as he recalled making the deal impulsively, but he refused to show weakness. His role as the oldest required projecting confidence, even when doubts plagued him. Max stepped away from Flint’s crew, raising his hands to calm his siblings.
“I had to act fast. We can’t risk the festival or more failed batches with our water compromised. This is our best option,” Max said.
Gwen crossed her arms. “And you never thought to consult us about either issue?”
His chest tightened, feeling a surge of defensiveness as he tried to justify his unilateral decision. He couldn’t admit he was terrified of losing the family legacy and disappointing their parents. The thought of calling home to explain a business failure motivated his desperate measures.
“There wasn’t time for a family meeting,” Max said.
Noah thrust his tablet forward, showing spreadsheets with red-highlighted line items. He tapped the screen repeatedly, frustration radiating from him. Rows of numbers filled the tablet’s display, each column referencing festival costs and potential shortfalls. The buzz of drills filled the tense silence that followed each pointed jab from Noah.
“You’ve put us thousands over budget. We don’t have a magic safety net,” Noah said.
Max snapped, “I know what I’m doing. This is necessary.”
He hated hearing the truth of how dire their finances were but refused to show doubt in front of Flint or his siblings. The brewery operated with thin margins in the best of times. This emergency expense threatened their stability, but contaminated water guaranteed their collapse.
“We can adjust some expenses,” Max suggested.
Noah glared. “You should have consulted the family before signing anything.”
Max resisted the urge to remind Noah who held ultimate decision-making authority. Such reminders only created deeper rifts, and they needed unity now more than ever. Liv frowned. The canisters hissed softly, pressurizing as chemical readings flashed on a small panel. Indicator lights changed from amber to green as the system initialized.
“You realize this expense could ruin our festival if it fails, right?” Gwen said.
He felt a stab of irritation. “Look, I discussed water filtration options with an environmental scientist,” Max lied. “This isn’t a knee-jerk decision.”
Gwen raised an eyebrow. “The scientist recommended this specific system?”
Max hesitated. “She confirmed the contamination extends beyond our property. We needed immediate action.”
He avoided mentioning that Laney had expressed skepticism about BioClean. Admitting that would undermine confidence in the solution he’d already purchased. Flint strolled over, politely interrupting, positioning himself beside Max. He offered a confident grin, as if reading the tension and trying to dispel it. His tailored suit stood out among the brewery staff’s casual attire.
“I understand your concerns. But I assure you, this is the best system on the market,” Flint said.
Gwen glanced sideways. “It better be.”
Nothing in his brewing education had prepared him for this. Max wanted to believe Flint’s confidence, clinging to the idea that the system would solve everything.
“The technology has proven effective in businesses all over Fate Mountain,” Flint continued. “Your brother made the right call, acting quickly. Contamination only worsens with time.”
Max appreciated the support, though he remained uncertain. Metal tools clanked as the crew finalized the installation. Noah had a hard edge in his eyes, while Gwen and Liv exchanged worried glances. “We can’t afford a delay. End of story,” Max said.
Noah shut off his tablet screen, muttering, “Fine. But you get to explain to Mom and Dad why we’re in the red.”
His pulse pounded, anger and anxiety battling inside him. He wouldn’t admit how he really felt. Pride and desperation drove him to appear in control. His parents had entrusted him with the brewery’s leadership, and he refused to show weakness.
“This discussion isn’t helping,” Gwen interjected. “What’s done is done. Let’s focus on making the festival successful.”
The siblings left in frustration, each heading in different directions. Max watched them go, tension gripping his jaw. The brewing floor quieted except for the last crew member tightening bolts on the main canister. The crew member offered a curt nod when finished, then joined his colleagues outside.
Max exhaled, acknowledging a heavy knot of doubt in his chest. The impressive canisters and technical jargon sounded convincing, but he knew little about the science behind them. He had placed his trust and the brewery’s future in Flint’s hands without thorough research.
He wondered whether he should have waited for more information from Laney before committing to such an expensive solution. Her scientific knowledge could have helped, but she’d been so reluctant to spend any time with him. His hesitation to push had probably been a mistake. At the end of the day, taking action felt better than doing nothing.
Max ran a hand through his hair, surveying the installation. The canisters looked impressive, but would they work? He considered calling Laney, explaining the system and asking for her professional opinion. Her reaction at the market had revealed skepticism about BioClean. Flint gestured to the completed installation, then handed Max a thick packet of maintenance instructions. Max tucked the papers under his arm, forcing a confident nod.
He stood alone in the quiet brewery, wrestling with an uneasy sense that he didn’t deserve the trust his parents put in him. He walked to his office, closing the door behind him. Had he acted too hastily? Was Flint taking advantage of their desperation? Could the brewery afford this expense if the festival failed to generate expected revenue? Max placed the maintenance manual on his desk. Flint promised immediate improvements in water quality.
He checked his phone, seeing no messages from Laney. Their connection complicated matters, and he still didn’t know how to deal with it. Max sat at his desk, reviewing festival preparations to distract himself from mounting worry. Vendor confirmations, music schedules, and promotional materials required his attention.
His siblings’ words echoed in his mind. Max gazed through his office door at the BioClean filtration system, hoping he had purchased salvation rather than snake oil. Only time would tell, and time was a resource he couldn’t afford to waste.