Chapter 6
Callum
Though Ashford Brews wasn’t a multinational corporation, at any moment in time, we had at least three or four things happening at once.
Today, we were in the malting and milling stages of our IPA, where we would spend enough time that my eyes would begin to cross.
The large steel barrels took up a majority of the room, and I was grateful that we’d expanded our warehouse in the past couple of years.
At the moment, though, our grains were being germinated and would soon dry so that way they could activate the enzymes that would convert any starch into sugar.
Then, it would be milled so we could get to the next stage, mashing.
When I had gone to school for business, I’d had a few friends in the chemistry department, mostly because they were helping me pass gen-chem, and they’d had home brews in their bathrooms. It seemed to be the thing of the moment for many a Colorado college kid—to try to figure out how to make their own beer.
There’d been a few explosions, the taste of vinegar that could coat your tongue and never let you go, and enough bad beers that I’m surprised none of us had ended up in the hospital.
But I had fallen in love with the concept of making beer and trying to figure out the perfect recipe.
While I wasn’t in business with any others, those initial friends that I had worked with still received a few of the profits.
Not much, since I’d worked with so many to figure out my own taste and recipe, but enough that it was a thank you.
And every single one of them had tried to return the money at first.
Ashford Brews was proprietary in their recipes, but I could say thank you to those who had gotten me where I was.
This was the legacy that I wanted my family to have.
The legacy of innovation, progress, and damn good beer.
And between the rest of my family pursuing their own avenues of their legacy, one day, when people thought of the Ashfords of Ashford Creek, they wouldn’t think of the failed dynasty.
They’d see what happened with this generation.
Finnian’s girls, as well as Briar’s daughter, would have a nest egg for them when they were ready. They would have a sturdy foundation of family lore that had nothing to do with their grandfather.
That bitter taste coated my tongue again because, no, I did not want to think of my father. He had never met Briar’s daughter and had only accidentally met the twins a couple of times.
If I had any say in it, they’d never meet the dumbass again, but that Ashford continued to creep around town, loitering.
And no matter how many times I cornered him, no matter how many times I worked with the sheriff and other avenues, they couldn’t figure out where our stepmother had gone and couldn’t pin him for my own mother’s death.
Eve Ashford had been an amazing mother. The light in her eyes had died over time, and I had even seen that as a young kid, but she’d raised her children with as much love as she could before she passed.
Sterling and Finnian had been babies when Mom had died.
They didn’t even remember her face, didn’t remember her laugh.
Didn’t remember the fact that she had held them both close to her heart, humming sweet lullabies to keep them content.
When Julie had married my dad, she’d come in and taken over.
She had been a sweet woman but without a spine.
Maybe that’s what my dad had been looking for.
She’d helped raise the younger kids to the best of her ability, but Teagan and I had done our best to make sure that we were the ones the youngest looked up to.
But Julie had been the first one to give Malcolm drumsticks and to lead him down the road that would eventually make him an international rock star behind his kit.
Part of me wondered if Malcolm and our mother, wherever you ended up after you died, were singing and playing along together. And maybe Julie was with them, watching the man, the boy she had helped raise, become a talented musician.
Julie had run away after five years with us. Fourteen years ago.
Dad had said she had taken all her things and left us because she couldn’t handle us anymore.
I wasn’t sure I believed that.
But what else was I supposed to think?
That Dad found a way to kill both of them? He’d gotten away with it the first time, and maybe he’d truly gotten away with it the second time too.
Because there was no evidence of what had happened to our mother. She’d slipped and fell and drowned in the river. And any bruises on her body could have come from the fall, and any older bruises hadn’t led to her death.
I frowned at the next barrel, watching the wort boil as it sterilized everything inside, and wondered how much death a family could take.
Malcolm was gone. Both of the mothers were gone. And my wife had followed.
No wonder I was tired.
Or that could be the fact that I had barely slept the night before, thanks to dreams of Felicity that continued to haunt me.
“So, is this when you add the hops?” Bodhi asked as he came forward, a frown on his face.
I was surprised to see him out and about, but considering the anniversary was coming up, I probably should have expected it. Bodhi would either spend time with us, hiding from the rest of the town, or wallow in a bottle in his cabin. I was grateful he had chosen this avenue, at least for the day.
“Yep. We want a little bitterness and that aroma as well as flavor. When we hit the fermentation phase, we add yeast, and then we can get our alcohol from that.”
“Because it can convert sugar into alcohol and carbon dioxide. I remember the notes last time.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind coming over to help me figure out if I actually like this new beer for the quarter.”
Bodhi shook his head, his lips twitching. “You wouldn’t have made it if you didn’t like it.”
“I’ve made a few beers that I didn’t like. I don’t mean to. It just happens.”
“I cannot believe you turned into a chemist.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t say that around the smart people who actually understand chemistry. I may have taken a few extra classes when I got back to town, but I’ll still never be smart enough to pass a class.”
“Thankfully, you had smart friends who carried you along.”
I rolled my eyes again as we went to the tasting room. We were in the private section that customers couldn’t see. This was where we did our tastings before we went into packaging.
“I went for a red ale this time. A first.”
Bodhi’s eyes widened. “My favorite.”
“Because I do everything for you,” I said dryly.
No, somebody else liked red ales, and I hadn’t even realized that I was making a beer for her until we were already into the fermentation process. It was probably going to end up shitty.
“Okay, let’s go through the process.”
“Did somebody say beer?” a familiar voice said, and I turned as Briar ran towards me.
I held out my arms, and she threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck as I twirled.
“I didn’t know you were coming.” I kissed the top of my sister’s head and then looked around for her husband and baby girl.
“Where are they?” I asked, frowning.
“I see how it is. I come all the way to Ashford Creek, and I am pushed aside because you can’t find my daughter.”
“Maybe I was looking for your husband. I am a fan of Gabriel Wilder.”
“Will the drummer do then?” another voice said, and I turned to see Kiera West come into the small room right behind Briar.
“Kiera. Good to see you.”
She grinned at me and tilted her head up at Bodhi. That’s when I remembered that since Bodhi hadn’t come down to Texas at all, this would be the first time the two were meeting.
“Bodhi, this is Kiera West, the drummer for Wilder, and Kiera, this is Bodhi, mine and Briar’s brother.”
Kiera smiled softly and stared at Bodhi for a moment before my brother’s jaw tightened.
“Yes, Mal and I were twins,” he bit out.
Kiera’s face paled, but she jutted out her chin.
“I know. Hard to miss. Just like it’s hard to miss the fact that I’m the one who took Mal’s place in the band. Sorry for staring. I was just thinking about how baby Maisie has your nose.”
Bodhi’s eyes widened.
“No shit?” he asked, turning to Briar.
Briar rolled her eyes. “Yes. Somehow, she has yours and Mal’s nose, and then everything else is Gabriel’s. I was part of the situation there. I went through labor. But no, Maisie is turning into the best of the Ashfords and the Wilders, and I got none of it.”
Kiera wrapped her arm around Briar’s shoulders and squeezed. “It’s okay. We’ll make sure that we don’t tell Gabriel that, though. We’ll keep teasing him that Maisie looks nothing like him.”
I snorted, though Bodhi didn’t make a sound.
“I do like doing that. He gets so growly.” Briar grinned, and I shook my head at the two of them.
“So, why are you guys here? Not that I don’t like seeing you. Because I do.”
“We had to come up to Denver for a few things for our management companies, so I figured we’d take the extra couple of hours to drive up to town to see you.
I wasn’t sure what time I was going to make it, or even if it was going to work, so I didn’t warn you.
And no, Maisie isn’t here. She’s at home with her father, meaning I have all the mom guilt.
This is the first time I’ve been away this long, and I’m not doing okay. ”
“Aw, I’m sorry. Though I do miss my baby niece.” I held out my arms again, and Briar sighed but leaned into me.
“And I do realize that I probably shouldn’t be back here, and this seems like a workplace or family vibe, so I can head out if you want,” Kiera said, pointedly not looking at Bodhi.
“No, it’s okay, we’re trying a beer. Do you like beer?” I asked, tilting my chin towards the setup.
“I love beer, so I’m in, if you don’t mind me crashing.”