Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
A year later . . .
Madison Mitchell drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she cruised down the winding road into Deer Creek Falls, Minnesota.
The moment her phone connected to a cell tower, her hands-free clicked in, and her daughter’s voice filled the car.
“Mom, you are not going to believe what happened in my psych class today.”
Madison grinned. “Did someone hypnotize the professor into canceling exams?”
“No, but I sat next to this guy who looks exactly like Henry Cavill. Like, if Superman and a Greek statue had a baby—”
Madison groaned. “Please tell me your first week of summer classes has included something other than ogling the student body.”
“It’s called observation, Mom. Psychology major, remember?”
“Uh-huh,” Madison said, passing the Welcome to Deer Creek Falls sign. Population: 948.
“Anyway,” Sophie continued, “classes are fine. The dorm food is weirdly good. My roommate leaves motivational sticky notes on the mirror, which is slightly creepy but also helpful. And oh! I signed up for a film club.”
Madison’s heart did a little squeeze of pride. “Look at you. Joining things. Who are you?”
“Someone who doesn’t have a mom breathing down her neck about social engagement anymore,” Sophie quipped. “Speaking of which, are you sure this whole ‘helping Garrett with the brewery’ thing isn’t just a cover for your latest project?”
Madison huffed. “First of all, Garrett is not my latest project. I’m helping him with the opening of the new location because your Uncle Mason guilt-tripped me into it with some nonsense about small-town values and being a team player.”
“Uh-huh. And this has nothing to do with your super-secret plan?”
Madison’s lips twitched. “There is nothing super-secret about it. It’s a brilliant plan. I enter the Brewfest competition, win first place, and convince Garrett to add my cider to the brewery’s menu. Everyone wins.”
“Except Garrett, who will clearly hate the idea.”
Madison sighed. “Mason said the decision is Garrett’s.
He may co-own the brewery, but the beer and anything poured alongside it is Garrett’s domain.
He doesn’t hate cider. He just thinks it doesn’t belong in his brewery.
Something about keeping the menu ‘pure.’ As if beer is some sacred art form and not fermented grains in a fancy glass. ”
“Ha! That sounds just like him. Garrett was awesome when I stayed with Uncle Mason when you were deployed, but when it came to his beer, he was a little grumpy and obsessive. But what if you don’t win at Brewfest?”
Madison considered. “Well, then I’ll . . . I don’t know. Agree to stop ‘meddling in his business..”
Sophie snorted. “Mom, you are the human embodiment of meddling.”
“I help. It’s different.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“By the way, I talked to your grandma before I left and she’s having a great time exploring Italy.”
“If she sent photos, forward them to me.”
Before Madison could respond, a slow-moving truck carrying a load of canoes and kayaks veered into her lane, forcing her to slam on the brakes. Her iced coffee sloshed over the lid, and she barely avoided swerving into a mailbox shaped like a fish.
“Sweet mother of—why is everyone driving like they have nowhere to be?!”
“Because you’re in a town where people literally have nowhere to be?” Sophie teased.
Madison let out a long breath, adjusting her grip on the wheel. “Okay. It’s fine. I’m here. I have a plan. I just need to figure out how to approach Garrett without him immediately shutting me down.”
“Or growling at you.”
Madison laughed. “Yes, he definitely growls.”
“Well, good luck with that. And Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Try not to set anything on fire.”
“That was one time. Not everyone is a good cook.”