Chapter 12
“Was this building made for the brewery or did the previous owner renovate it?” I ask, stepping through the oversized wood doors into the space I’m here to buy—for the first time.
My father had pointed out that he and Doyle already scouted the place, that it wasn’t necessary for me to see the building we would tear down anyway. But the longer I’m here, the more I feel a need to understand the full situation.
Maybe Richard Carpenter isn’t as smart as he thought, sending his community relations guy. Because this is the stuff I do—connect with the community.
“It was previously three individual storefronts. Those doors we just walked through were from the original place that stood here,” the trustee, Mitchell, answers.
As we step inside, we’re greeted by high ceilings and the aroma of natural wood. The previous owner made some serious progress on this brewery before walking away. It’s a little hard to fathom how good of shape this place is in.
The building is pristine, made of a significant amount of timber from the walls to the posts and exposed beams. It’s like standing in a mountain ski lodge, an understandable style choice considering our location.
“Why a brewery?”
Mitchell leads me over to a set of glass and iron barn-style doors, pulling on the one handle and wheeling the door to the side. “Why not a brewery?” he replies, motioning for me to step through first. “Are you a skier?”
“Me? Not really. I’ve done it, but not enough to call myself a skier.”
“When you have hit the slopes, what was the best part of heading in for the day?”
Our steps echo across the brick paver floor as we walk through the rows of shiny metal tanks in the two-story high brewing room. The equipment in here is impressive too.
“Once back in the lodge?” I consider his question and grin when I understand what he’s getting at. “I looked forward to kicking back with a beer.”
Mitchell hums in agreement. “Exactly.”
Reaching the end of the tanks, we pause at the impressive showing of cathedral arched windows overlooking the creek and the sloped terrain beyond.
I can’t help thinking how much of a shame it would be to erase a place like this.
I didn’t just get myself sucked into The Carpenter Collection; I managed to pull my best friend in too.
Tad James and I met in college, became roommates, and worked together at the brewery around the corner from campus.
So, when the time came to find a liaison director to help run my branch of the company, he was an obvious choice for me.
One person I knew I could be on the same page with there—one person I could truly trust.
Which is why he’s my first call as I return to my apartment after wrapping up the tour with Mitchell.
“Hey, how’s small town life, brother?” he greets me warmly.
I untangle the cord of the kitchen’s wall phone and lift it over my head as I turn to open the fridge.
“Honestly, it’s not half bad,” I tell him, reaching in and pulling out my leftovers from The Gin Mill—a bar and grill about a block away.
I’ve been working my way through their impressive list of specialty burgers since I arrived.
Today was a Cajun one, and I didn’t have time to touch the onion rings before the meeting.
“Nice place?”
I open the Styrofoam container and lean against the kitchen counter, popping a ring in my mouth.
Charlie sits at my feet, flashing those puppy dog eyes as he begs.
“Really nice—that’s actually why I called.
I need you to dig into some of the public records for me.
See why other big names haven’t been successful marking their territory here yet. ”
“Think they’ve tried?”
“If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say we aren’t the first.”
A shuffling sound carries through the line, then I hear the distinct whirl of a computer firing up. That is one thing I miss being here—my technology. Specifically, my laptop that I left sitting on my desk at headquarters. Unaccustomed to traveling for work, I didn’t think about taking it.
“Alright, I’m ready to connect to my dial up. I’ll call you when I’ve got something,” Tad tells me.
“Thanks, man.”
I crunch into another onion ring and end the call. With Tad working on things back home, that frees me up to continue acclimating to the heart and soul of this town.
And there is only one person whose help I want with that. The same person I can’t seem to stop thinking about day in and day out, collecting each brief run in like precious trinkets.
It’s time I take these chance encounters into my own hands.