Chapter 3 #2
In her cafe, her fae magic usually determined what she made for someone, so I wondered how she’d cope with catering an event like that.
When I’d asked her that, her lilac-colored skin brightened and her eyes sparkled, but instead of answering, she just smiled like she knew something I didn’t.
That was fair. There was a lot I didn’t know.
So for now, I would do the next best thing. I’d post tons of pictures of all the vendors, not just the winners. And as I went, I’d spread some cheer and say cheers at the same time.
Okay, that sounded super cheesy, even in my head. I grinned. I was definitely going to say exactly that when we ordered our first drinks. And maybe our second and third drinks too.
Overhead, a raven cawed as if in agreement.
I steered us toward Sandy’s tent first since it was closest. He was standing behind a table covered in samples, wearing a t-shirt that said, Ale yeah!
“Hi, Sandy! How’s business?”
“Hop-tastic now that you’re here!” Sandy looked relieved to see us. “Ever since the winners were announced, it’s been deadly quiet here. The goblins haven’t even shown up yet. I hope it picks up later, or it’s going to be a really long night. But it’s a brew-tiful day, so I can’t complain.”
I couldn’t decide if his puns were amazing or terrible, but they made me laugh either way. “What company are you working for today?”
Sandy took on a lot of odd jobs around town, from work at the conference center to doing admin at the local realty office.
He’d even volunteered to take photos for the festival’s social media, which I was hugely thankful for since that meant I wouldn’t need to attend all the events.
Balancing his schedule would exhaust me, and his wardrobe would have overwhelmed me, too. He had a different outfit for each job.
“Brewtopia. Ivan brought his signature Midnight Lager, as well as a few others.” He waved toward a chalkboard behind him that listed half a dozen different beers. “My favorite is his Solstice Stout. It’s kind of sweet and un-beer-lievable.”
Sandy’s sweet tooth was legendary. If I ever did open a bakery, Sandy alone would keep me in business. Although I’d feel weird about charging him because he’d become my friend, so who knew? He might bankrupt me instead.
“This is Ivan’s tent?” Gideon asked, looking around with more interest. “Is he here?”
“No.” Sandy squirmed. He glanced around.
After confirming no one had followed us into the tent, he leaned closer to whisper, “He’s super pissed, like with a capital P.
He went to get what was left of the growler of lager he submitted for the competition.
All the judges commented on how sour it was, and he’s out to prove them wrong. ”
“Sour?” Gideon sounded surprised.
“Yes,” someone behind us snapped out the single syllable word like a whip. “Sour.” We all turned around to find Ivan clutching the neck of a dark brown bottle. He shook it in front of our faces. “Smell this. It’s been sabotaged.”
What the heck?
Gideon tentatively inhaled, then his eyes widened in surprise as he rubbed his nose. “Yeah. That’s definitely sour.”
If the sample had been messed with, I might be able to help. My magic was connected to baking, and since beer was ingestible...
I reached out with my fledgling magical skills and poked at the contents of the bottle as it sloshed around. A sense of wrongness scraped over my skin like a comb of tiny needles. I shivered and rubbed my arms. What the heck was that?
“Exactly,” Ivan agreed. His canine teeth became more prominent with each passing minute. He had to be a shifter. “And I’m going to find out who tampered with it.”
Gideon straightened, and I could tell that his alpha-mode had now been activated. “It might have just been an accident that your beer turned sour.”
“Pshaw,” Ivan scoffed. “Next, you’re going to be telling me not to throw around accusations without proof or some such nonsense.”
“Ivan…” There was a warning in Gideon’s tone.
“We all know who did it, Gideon.” Ivan scowled at my… Gideon. I had a strange compulsion to step in between them, as if Gideon needed my protection.
“You can’t be sure,” Gideon argued.
“Roy Pruitt.” Ivan spat the winning brewer’s name at us. “There’s no way his ale deserved to win.”
Oh boy. Were all competitions this, well, competitive? If they were, the festival board should stop including them in their events. They didn’t seem to be bringing the community together. Not at all.
Ivan turned his scowl at me. “Is Elwood here?”
I shook my head quickly, realizing that even though I hadn’t known who the brewer was until today, he knew me. “He’s at the Mystic Menagerie.”
“I’ll be back later, Sandy,” Ivan said, spinning on his heel and marching off in the direction of my grandfather’s shop. “Elwood will know how Roy did it. He’ll help me trap the rat.”
We all stared after him. The raven–the one I was beginning to think of as mine–circled overhead and followed after the angry brewer.
“Should we call the sheriff’s office?” I asked quietly. “Give Grady a heads up?” As the sheriff, he’d want to know if trouble was brewing in town, wouldn’t he?
Gideon shook his head. “If Ivan is right and someone tampered with his submission, Elwood should be able to figure it out. We can’t do anything until we know more. There isn’t anything to report to the authorities right now.”
“Corporate sabotage is a thing, right?” I rubbed my arms again. “I did sense something… I know my magic isn’t all that powerful or whatever, but there was something spectacularly wrong with the beer in that bottle.”
Gideon wrapped his arm around me. “Huh. Maybe Ivan was right. Maybe someone did try to knock him out of the competition. But I still think he needs more answers before he throws accusations around.”
“I guess. Just because Roy won doesn’t mean he’s the one who did something wrong.”
I might be too gullible to live in a small town.
When people said things, I believed them.
I kept forgetting that people lied or exaggerated or twisted things to conform to the things they wanted to believe.
In the city, I hadn’t known that many people well enough to get caught up in their personal dramas.
Yes, I’d had to deal with Josh’s lies, but he was one person, not a whole community.
But these squabbles weren’t my concern. I didn’t need to put my nose into their business. I had enough of my own things to worry about–like how to open a bakery and whether I should call my parents and tell them I’d moved to Ravenstone and fallen head over heels for a wolf shifter.
And if Ivan’s lager had been messed with, I really wanted to support him now. I spun to face Sandy and slapped a fifty on the counter.
“I’ll try the Solstice Stout, Sandy,” I said. “Gideon? What are you having? We’re going to say cheers and spread cheer tonight. This is our first stop.”
Okay. My fabulous tagline didn’t sound as good as it had in my head, but whatever. They knew what I meant.
“Cheers to beers! Coming right up.” Sandy grinned. “But watch out, these might knock you on your ass. They’re pretty intense.”
I hadn’t been hungover in years, but it was sweet of him to warn me. “I can handle it.”
Sandy and Gideon exchanged a look, but I didn’t care what they thought about my alcohol tolerance. They’d find out. My stomach hadn’t betrayed me since my first year of college. I’d be fine.