Chapter 18
Beck
For the last couple of weeks, Clara would come over after work, and I'd cooked for her. Then we fell into bed. It was nice. I'd never really been in a relationship, and I was fairly sure that's what this was turning into, despite my best intentions.
She was exhausted because it was peek shopping season for the holidays. We didn't talk about much other than the brewery.
I hadn't talked to Malcolm. He needed space, and I was willing to be patient. It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't want to be friends anymore. He was the only one who stuck around all these years, other than my siblings. It was bound to happen sooner or later.
Tonight was the tasting, and I'd strongly suggested that Rowan ensure that his family didn't attend. This was to test his brews with strangers. I wanted honest opinions.
I dressed in a suit, feeling more comfortable in my usual business attire. It felt like armor, like no one could think I was a kid whose parents abandoned him to foster care more times that I could count.
When I arrived, Malcolm was at the hostess stand. "You're here for the tasting?"
"Yes."
"Follow me," was all he said as he turned his back and led the way to the backroom.
I came here for Malcolm, but there was a part of me who thought of my time here as being with Clara.
She was the draw now. But I didn't want to examine that too closely.
No matter what happened between us, it changed nothing about my plans.
I'd created a system that worked for me.
And it didn't include a relationship with a woman who had ties to a small town.
Christmas was swiftly approaching and, with it, my self-imposed deadline. I needed to wrap this project up and let the Harts decide how they were going to go forward.
There was a bar set up in this room.
Malcolm paused. "We thought we'd have groups of people come here throughout the night. We'll serve them appetizers while they sample the brews. I didn't mention the plans for a brewery on property."
"That's probably for the best."
He was so stiff. "Are you still planning to talk to the family?"
"After the tasting. Then we'll have all the information we need to make a decision." I emphasized the word we because it was a family decision, not his.
"Good luck," he said before he walked away.
He was still upset with me, and I couldn't blame him.
Rowan joined me. "Mac still mad at you?"
"He is," I said, looking around at the space. Everything on the property had a historic feel but still classy.
"I think he wants to provide this legacy for his son, and since he's the only one with a child, he thinks that his decision should come first."
That made me pause. "I hadn't thought about it like that."
"It's just something I've been thinking about." His gaze caught on a group of well-dressed women who'd just walked into the room.
"Is this your first group?" I asked him, wondering if Clara would stop by.
I hadn't told her not to, but Rowan might have.
She knew how important this was to me, and for the first time, I wouldn't mind a little support, even if this wasn't my event.
I was considering a personal investment, so I felt the pressure more than usual.
"Might be."
One of the women laughed, and his gaze caught and held on her. "Hattie? What are you doing here?"
She sobered as she looked at him. "We're here for the tasting."
"You're not working tonight?"
I remembered that Hattie was the woman who ran the hot cocoa truck.
"Nope," she said, her cheeks still rosy from the cold.
When it was apparent that Rowan wasn't going to direct them, I stepped in. "Have a seat, ladies. You can order appetizers while I get your drinks ready."
The women sat at the bar, placing their purses on the bar top. I moved around the counter. "You need my help?"
"I'd love it," Rowan said, relief evident in his tone as he grabbed glasses.
He was nervous. This meant a lot to him. And it was possible he was interested in Hattie. I'd obviously been here too long if I was noticing when someone had a crush on a woman.
"I'll pour. Why don't you take their orders?" I asked him, grabbing the first bottle.
I'd brought a tablet to take notes about any comments made. We weren't going to have anyone fill out a survey. I wanted to record honest reactions.
He took their orders, and I observed the women, all young and sophisticated. Even though Hattie owned a food truck, you'd never know it in this setting.
"You're Mac's friend?" Hattie asked me, and I moved closer to her end of the bar, handing her the first glass.
"We went to college together."
A smile spread over her face. "Are you in town for business or pleasure?"
I felt Rowan stiffen next to me. "A bit of both. Visiting a friend and helping him with a business decision."
She pursed her lips that were covered in red lipstick. "That's nice."
"You have business aspirations of your own?" I asked, wanting to keep her talking since Rowan seemed to be listening.
She waved her hand. "I run a hot chocolate truck. It's a bit silly if I'm being honest."
"Why is that?" I asked, not understanding why she owned one if she didn't want to.
She leaned in close, her expression animated. "I'd love to open a store in town and serve hot chocolate. You know, with different flavors and toppings. I'd make it a whole experience." Then she sat back in her chair. "I told you it was silly."
"I don't think that's silly. Were you thinking about opening it in Christmas Town?" I asked, intrigued by her description of a specialty shop.
"Well, yeah, that makes the most sense. But I heard the new owners raised the leases. Traffic has increased since they took over. It would be impossible for me to get in there now. That's why I started with a food truck to see if my business idea is viable and all that."
"That's smart." It's exactly what I would advise someone to do.
Her eyes widened. "You think so? My parents think it's not a serious business."
"Do you solve a problem with your business venture?" I poured a few more glasses and set them in front of the women.
Her gaze met mine, and when she saw that I was being serious, she said, "Well, people seem to want hot chocolate when it's cold outside, and it's cold here a lot of the time."
I met her gaze. "What will you do in the summer?"
She pointed a finger at me. "Now don't laugh."
"I never laugh at business ideas." I set the bottle down and faced her. I'd found that most people had dreamed about their businesses for years, and it was never a good idea to make fun of them. They tended to be deeply personal. Ideas were like children that took years to develop.
This time, she leaned close and lowered her voice. "I'm thinking about serving hot-cocoa ice cream. You know, chocolate and marshmallows. I can even make a sundae with toppings."
"What if people don't want hot-chocolate ice cream?"
She nodded seriously as if she'd already thought about this. "I'll serve chocolate and vanilla too. I can make a hot chocolate sundae with those flavors as the base.”
"You've really thought about this." I wiped the counter with a rag I found under the bar.
A small smile spread over her face. "Most people think it's stupid, but I've always wanted to own a shop. I want to make people happy."
"I'm pretty sure that hot cocoa with marshmallows makes people happy."
Her entire face lit up, and she said, "That's what I thought."
Rowan braced his hand on the counter and turned to face me. "You going to serve the rest of the group?"
I gave him an easy smile, knowing that talking to Hattie was getting to him. "Relax. We're just talking business." Then I said to Hattie, "Don't give up. I think you're on the right track."
Her facial expression was vulnerable. "Really?"
"Yes." Then I grabbed the bottle and moved down the bar to serve the rest of the ladies. I kept an eye on Rowan, but he didn't spend any more time with Hattie than he did with the other women.
We'd talked about keeping the event casual. We'd serve them appetizers and brews, note any reactions but not ask any questions or provide any spiel on the brews themselves. I didn't want there to be any pressure for anyone to give an opinion.
The food came out, and the women talked, sipping their brews and eating. When it was time for the second round, I removed their glasses and poured the next option.
"We're bringing in a second group at the other end of the bar," Rowan said to me.
"I'm on it." I wasn't used to working behind a bar or in a restaurant, but it was fun to be this close to the action. I enjoyed talking to customers about the brews and the surrounding area. I'd seen enough to feel like I could provide some direction, and if I couldn't, I called Rowan over.
Seeing the business from this side was different. The second group of guys was more interested in the different brews, and they kept Rowan busy with questions. I drifted back to the first group of women, asking if they needed anything.
"Is Rowan finally building his brewery?" Hattie asked.
"He's talked about it. But nothing's been decided yet." That was the truth. Then I saw Clara come into the room. She stayed toward the back wall, and I inclined my head to the back hallway.
She nodded and moved in that direction.
"Can I get you ladies anything else?" I asked, desperate to see what Clara wanted.
"Not right now," one said with a smile.
I told Rowan I was getting supplies from the backroom, and he waved me off. He was deep in a conversation with the guys about how he came up with his recipes. I went to the hallway, looking for Clara.
She reached out and grabbed me, pulling me into an office. It wasn't Malcolm's at least. She closed and locked the door and pulled my mouth down to hers.
"What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to support you." Her arms looped around my neck.
"This is Rowan's night," I said softly, not wanting anyone to hear us.
She shrugged. "You're serving the drinks."
"I told Rowan I'd help out."
She smiled. "That's really nice of you."