Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Ryan McCormick drove along the coast toward Rosewood Beach with a slight smile on his face. He was blasting James Taylor as loudly as if it were rock music, and he had the windows of his truck down even though it was cold in the early spring weather. To his right, the ocean glittered in the sunlight, and he thought to himself that he couldn’t wait to get out on the water in a boat or a jet-ski.
Not that he’d had a particularly fun summer the year before—or the year before that. He’d been working hard, going from one construction job to the next. He’d kept telling himself it was temporary, and he was just trying to get ahead in his new role as project manager for the Hartford-based construction firm he worked for. But even after it was clear he was doing a fantastic job and could take a little more time off, he’d kept working almost all the time.
It didn’t help that his job often took him away from home. Occasionally, he needed to go to Hartford, but most of his office work could be done remotely. However, as a project manager, he was often traveling from state to state, occasionally for weeks at a time.
I wonder if I like that, he thought, frowning a little at the thought. I wonder if part of me is trying to stay away.
Although he loved his family, Ryan had mixed feelings about them. His father, Judd McCormick, had started a local brewery years ago, and it was his pride and joy. Well, mostly pride. Judd acted as though making a profit from his business was the only thing worth focusing on. Ryan was the only one of Judd’s three sons who hadn’t gone into the family business. He had wanted to forge his own path, and not get caught up in his father and brothers’ sometimes narrow-minded ways.
He shook his head, trying not to think negative thoughts about his father and brothers. He loved them, and they were his family. He’d come home to see them, hadn’t he? He had to be back in Colorado in another few days at the site he’d just spent the last two weeks at, but instead of climbing some rocks and exploring the mountains, he’d decided to come back home to spend some time with his family.
He turned down the music as he reached the outskirts of Rosewood Beach. It was around noon on Sunday, and he didn’t want to disturb anyone who was trying to have a peaceful afternoon in the quiet Connecticut town. He let out a large yawn as he turned his truck toward the McCormick Brewery, which was located on the edge of town near the highway. His flight that morning hadn’t been terribly early, but flying always made him sleepy. He was always glad to get back to his truck, which he paid to have kept in the airport parking lot while he was away.
He reached the brewery and parked out front. The sleek, modern building glinted faintly in the sunlight and he smiled when he saw it. He had many fond memories of being a little kid, running through the hallways when he wasn’t supposed to. It had been especially fun when the place was still under construction.
He stepped inside, and the first sound that met his ears was of two voices raised in argument. He sighed, recognizing the voices as belonging to his brothers, Seth and Brady.
He made his way into the bar area of the brewery, where there were several metal tables set along the large windows. Seth and Brady were sitting together at one of them, squabbling as they usually did. Their argument wasn’t particularly heated, although it was clear they were both passionate about their opinions. The two of them were usually finding some reason for starting an argument, almost as if squabbling with each other was their favorite sport.
Ryan stepped up to their table with a grin. “Now what on earth could you two have to fight about this early in the day? It’s barely noon.”
“Ryan!” Seth and Brady both leapt up and tackled Ryan in a group hug.
“We missed you, squirt,” Brady said, ruffling Ryan’s dark brown hair.
At six one and muscular, “squirt” was hardly an accurate nickname for Ryan. But Brady and Seth had been calling him that ever since they were all kids, and Ryan didn’t mind. “Squirt” had been one of the nicer nicknames bestowed upon him by his boisterous, rough-housing older brothers.
“Thanks, I missed you too.” Ryan grinned. “How are things at the brewery?”
Seth shrugged. “I’d say they’re good. Dad hadn’t been particularly happy, but our numbers haven’t gone down or anything like that. I think he’s kind of stressed out about this food menu he’s trying to keep up.”
Brady nodded. “He’s narrowed it down to just a few bar food basics, but it’s still not turning as much of a profit as he wanted. I think he never should have bothered with putting out food at all.”
“You never said that when Dad was drawing up the business plans,” Seth said, his tone lightly accusing.
“Yeah, well, I know better than to try to stand in Dad’s way once he’s got an idea,” Brady scoffed. “The man is like a bulldozer.”
“Hey, speaking of food,” Seth said, changing the subject cheerfully, “have you had lunch, squirt?”
“Nope, not yet.” Ryan’s stomach growled loudly in the next moment, and his brothers laughed.
“Hey, Pete!” Seth yelled to the chef, who must have been somewhere behind the bar, within earshot. “Ryan just got home! Make him a blue cheese bacon burger, on the house.”
“You got it!” Pete called from the kitchen.
“Blue cheese bacon burger, huh?” Ryan asked, sitting down next to his brothers at the table they’d been arguing at. “That’s new on the menu.”
“Well,” Seth said, frowning a little, “we’ve had to up the caliber of our menu. Dad wants to make sure we offer some things that can tempt customers away from The Lighthouse Grill. They’re doing such great business, and Dad’s convinced that it’s hurting our numbers somehow.”
Ryan shook his head. He didn’t understand the way his father always seemed to be trying to compete with The Lighthouse Grill. It was a great restaurant and had been around town for decades. He remembered eating there as a kid and having the most amazing waffle fries in the world—at least, that’s what he’d thought when he was ten years old.
“They’ve always done well,” Ryan pointed out. “Besides, wasn’t it Dad’s plan to start serving food here as a kind of competition with The Lighthouse Grill?” Ryan wasn’t involved in any of the brewery’s business deals, but he heard about things. He’d heard about a lot of things that he didn’t like. “Our brewery is the one that stoked the flames of rivalry. It’s not like The Lighthouse Grill is some new threat to Dad or something.”
Dad was trying to be a threat to them, he thought with an internal sigh.
“Hey, who’s side are you on?” Seth asked, frowning. “We want the brewery to be the most popular place in town. It should be. Right now, it isn’t.”
Ryan lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m not picking sides, just making an observation.”
“Not a very loyal observation,” Brady said, but his tone was teasing.
At that moment, their father walked into the bar area. Judd was wearing an expensive gray suit, and his graying hair was slicked back neatly.
“Ryan!” he exclaimed and shook his son’s hand warmly. “Welcome back home. How was Colorado?”
“Good.” Ryan smiled. “This new building we’re putting up out there is really something to see.”
“Excellent.” Judd sat down at the table in the last empty chair and set down a stack of files. “Okay, Seth and Brady, we need to brainstorm ways to get these numbers up.”
Ryan swallowed a sigh. He always hoped that his father might take some interest in the work he was doing and ask him questions about it. Judd was encouraging but disinterested in Ryan’s work. The only thing that seemed to capture his attention was business schemes.
“I think we should add more food items to the bar menu,” Seth said, and Brady shot him a skeptical look.
“More food means more money spent purchasing supplies,” Judd said.
“Well, then, how about different toppings for burgers?” Seth suggested. “I had one in the city once with peanut butter on it. It was really good.”
“Don’t you have to have a special license to serve peanut butter?” Brady asked doubtfully.
“No, idiot.” Seth rolled his eyes.
“It’s a major allergen!” Brady protested. “Would we get sued if someone had an allergy attack?”
“No one with a peanut allergy is going to order a peanut butter burger!”
Seth and Brady’s voices were raised in disagreement again, and Judd continued to flip through his papers as if he wasn’t even hearing them.
Ryan listened without commenting. There were too many strong opinions at that table, he thought. The constant debating reminded him of why he never wanted to join the family business.
Pete, the chef, came out from behind the bar with Ryan’s burger and handed him the plate. “I actually tried for you,” he joked.
Ryan laughed, although he wondered what kind of quality food his family’s place served if the chef didn’t usually feel like trying.
“Thanks, Pete.” Ryan shook his hand. “Smells amazing.”
Pete went back into the kitchen and Ryan took a bite out of his burger, trying to tune out the sound of his brothers’ squabbling and his father’s occasional dismissive comments. He chewed thoughtfully, enjoying the taste of the burger because he was hungry.
It’s good, he thought. Definitely a decent bar burger. I have to admit though, I remember the burgers at The Lighthouse Grill being so much better.
He would never admit that to his family, of course. He didn’t want to get accused of being disloyal, especially because The Lighthouse Grill seemed to be some kind of sore spot with his dad.
He sighed quietly to himself as he continued to eat. Part of him wished he’d stayed in Colorado during his break to enjoy the mountains, but the rest of him was glad he was home. Even if he was getting ignored while his father and brothers argued around him, family was family and he loved them.