9. Chapter 9
nine
A fter twenty hours of flights, driving, and more deception than she’d engaged in in her whole life, Willow finally saw the big blue Welcome to Mapleton sign and nearly jumped out of her skin. It had been a torturous journey—literally and figuratively.
The last week had been non-stop secret calls and emails between her, contract lawyers, financial institutions, and everyone else. Once all the funding had gone through and the purchase agreement for the brewery had been signed, then the real trouble started.
First she had to let Nana in on her secret and ask her to rent a car, since she’d need a credit card for the rental and didn’t have one in only her name, which had set Nana off on a twenty-minute lecture about “growing a pair of tits and telling him the truth.”
Despite her disagreeing with Willow’s methods, Nana had turned out to be an awesome hype-girl and made her feel as if she could definitely do this. She’d rented her a car that had been waiting for her at the Ottawa airport when she arrived.
But once she got on the road, she’d quietly panicked the entire drive from Ottawa to Mapleton, second-guessing herself and wondering what the fuck she’d been thinking. Maybe Shane was right; maybe this was stupid. She’d sunk every dollar she had into this. What if it failed? She couldn’t turn off the negative chatter in her mind, no matter how loud she turned up the music.
That is until she reached the Toronto traffic and found herself in survival mode.
She’d never seen so many cars and highways in her life. Or had so many near-death experiences. Once she’d made it to the Niagara QEW, and traffic calmed, and she was no longer fearful that Shane would get a knock on the door telling him his fiancée died in a car accident in Toronto and the last conversation they’d had was her lying to his face, she’d calmed down a little .
She even gained a little confidence. If she could make it through that hell, fuck, she could do just about anything.
She pulled into Keller’s Pub feeling better than ever, parked her rental car in the back, and walked in. Before coming, she really should have gone to the room she’d rented for the month, unpacked, and taken a shower. And called Shane. But she just couldn’t wait any longer to see her brewery.
She pulled open the back door that led into the brewery, stepped in, and nearly died. It was even better than she remembered. Her eyes landed on a set of keys on a table, and she picked them up and held them against her cheek as her eyes filled with tears and a laugh bubbled up out of her throat.
She stood frozen in place, laugh-crying until the excitement took over and she couldn’t stand still anymore and started dancing around, jangling the keys. She would’ve danced around the whole place if a door closing behind her hadn’t interrupted her.
She whipped around to find Maxhole standing in the brewery, his hands in his pockets, leaning against a table, watching her.
She straightened her shirt and tipped up her chin. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said, his deep voice buzzing between them. He strolled toward her, eating up the distance in a few strides. She’d forgotten how big he was, and how menacing. His whole vibe was no-nonsense, direct, immovable. “Happy?”
She snorted a laugh. “No,” she said, and he narrowed his eyes, a smirk forming on his lips.
Holy shit.
That was the first time she’d seen his mouth do something. He’d only ever had a blank, slightly angry expression on his face before.
She shook it off, looked around the room, and her excitement bubbled up again.
“This is mine,” she said, touching the fermentation tank closest to her. “So is this,” she said, picking up a brew valve. She could feel the need to dance start up again just as the door opened and a strikingly beautiful girl walked in with short dark hair and big doe-like brown eyes. She stopped next to Max and came up to his chin.
Willow only came up to his shoulder, at most.
“You must be Willow,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m Cara, Max’s sister.”
Willow looked between them and could see an obvious resemblance, despite the fact that Max was robotic and Cara seemed human.
“The Friends fan?” Willow asked.
Cara’s smile grew. “Yes, that’s me,” she said, glancing over at Max and giving him a pointed look as he stared blankly, not showing any sign that he had a single feeling in his whole body. “I wanted to come say hi. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Willow’s brows shot up. “You have?” she asked, glancing at Max.
Cara nodded and was about to say something when the door behind them opened again and a short man with a round belly came walking in.
“Bonjour,” he said. He came in close, took her hands in his, and kissed both her cheeks.
“This is Luis,” Max said. “Our head chef. He’d like to collaborate with you on some menu pairings.”
Willow smiled. “You’re Québécois?”
“Oui, Montréal,” he said with a nod.
“My Nana’s from Québec City, but she lives in Ottawa now. I used to visit with her when I was young.”
Luis smiled. “I have family there, too. Beautiful place. My kids love it, too.”
“How many kids do you have?”
“Three. They’re adjusting to the move well. We all love the beach here.”
Willow nodded, smiling. And the guilt crept in a little. Luis moved here with his family. He didn’t lie to them and take off. But maybe his wife and kids were more reasonable than Shane .
“I’m looking forward to trying your beer. Perhaps we can meet next week to discuss our menus?”
Menus. Right.
Panic set in as she looked around the room. She needed to make some beer that would sell consistently and easily, but she wanted to do this her way. The problem was that she didn’t know what the best way to do it her way was.
Now she was barely making sense.
Maybe she should go take a bit of time first. Get settled before she got to work. Call Shane and tell him everything was great so she could stop the guilt from invading her mind.
“I’m gonna get going,” she said, hoping the self-doubt and panic hadn’t been obvious in her voice. “I need to move my stuff into my new room, get settled.”
She’d heard once that procrastination was really just anxiety that you’d do an awful job. Maybe that’s what she was doing, but it didn’t really matter. She only had so much time, and she needed to get clear and intentional about what she was going to do. Make a brew schedule that would work, and above all else, make something that the locals would love.
But she didn’t know what locals in Mapleton even liked .
In an ideal world, she would’ve had enough time to wander around town, try out some places, and test out a bunch of beers, but she was under the gun.
“Don’t you think it would be a better idea to brew?” Max asked, making a show of looking at the fancy watch on his wrist.
Willow’s heart raced. She didn’t want to tell him, of all people, that she was feeling anxious or didn’t know where to start, so she stayed quiet and put a scowl on her face to mirror his.
“Where are you staying?” Cara asked, breaking some tension.
She turned away from Max. “I’m renting a room at this old mansion. Monroe Manor.”
“Oh, Chelsea’s place?” Cara asked, glancing at Max. “I didn’t know she was renting rooms.”
“It’s two in the afternoon. On a Tuesday,” Max said, his scowl deepening, gigantic arms folding across his barrel chest.
Willow rolled her eyes. “Telling time isn’t that impressive for a robot, I’m afraid.”
Max’s frown deepened. “We have deadlines. Soft opening in two weeks.”
“Two weeks, three days,” Luis added.
Max rolled his eyes. “I already booked canning. We need beer.”
“Soft opening?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Max said, annoyance bleeding into every word. “We’re having a friends and family night where we can try everything out before the grand opening, test the menus, make sure everything works properly.”
“Oh,” Willow said, her mind turning. That might be the perfect time to test out beers. She could make a few batches and a poll to see what people liked the most. But which ones to make?
She turned toward the door, lost in thought.
“Don’t you think it’s a little irresponsible to lose more time?” Max asked, pulling her attention back to him. “You’re already here.”
She stared at him as her mind changed the visual of him into Doug.
Make the pilsner.
“No,” she said, a smile taking over. God, it felt good to be at work and say no, and for it to actually mean something. “This is my brewery. I will decide what I brew.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “I don’t care what you brew. Just that you brew it before the canning company gets here. You also need to decide on can size and designs and names. There’s too much to do to just walk away in the middle of a workday.”
As much as she refused to admit it out loud, Max had a good point. There were a hundred billion things she needed to do. And she wanted to do them, and would do them. But first, she needed a little time to settle in. She’d likely come back later that day and get to work. It’s not as if she’d be able to sleep that night, anyway.
She could explain it to him and smooth things over. That was in her nature. But Max wasn’t her boss, and he was definitely the type to bulldoze a person. She wanted to set a clear boundary with him, right from the start. This was her brewery, and she would run it the way she wanted it. Not him.
She looked away from him.
“It was very nice to meet you, Luis. I look forward to collaborating with you, but it will have to wait.”
Luis nodded.
“Cara,” she said, getting her attention. “I like you.”
Cara’s natural smile doubled. “Same,” she said.
“Max,” she looked up at him. His eyes pierced hers, and her bravado tripped over itself a little, but she held on. “Please move.”
He stayed exactly where he was, so she brushed past him, and out the door she went without another word, feeling like a million bucks.