Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The brewery smelled like fresh hops and pine cleaner. The floor still glistened from its early morning mop, and chairs were tucked neatly under tables. Outside, ducks enjoyed the small pond behind the brewery, and the patio umbrellas fluttered gently in the breeze.
Garrett leaned against the bar with a mug of black coffee in hand, sleeves pushed up, a clipboard tucked under his arm.
“All right,” he said, eyes sweeping over the group gathered in the main taproom. “First-week thoughts?”
“Packed every night,” Ryker said, leaning on the bar with a grin. “Especially Friday and Saturday. I saw a couple folks get up and cheer when they found out we still had the hazy IPA on tap.”
Madison smiled. “I heard a lot of compliments about the space. Everyone’s loving the industrial-meets-rustic vibe. Whoever thought to put the couches by the fireplace—nice touch.”
Garrett gave a short nod but didn’t comment. It had been a good idea.
“We sold out of the logo pint glasses,” one of the bartenders added. “People kept asking if we had coasters and stickers to match.”
“I’ve already ordered more. We’ll be restocked by tomorrow,” Garrett said, jotting a note. “We’ll get some bundled merch ready too. Glassware, hats, shirts.”
Madison flipped her notebook open. “The outside patio saw a lot of foot traffic—especially during golden hour. Families, couples, even a few people who brought their dogs.”
“Yeah,” Ryker said, “and about half of them asked if we’re ever planning to serve more than just pretzels.”
That drew a few chuckles.
“We’re working on it,” Garrett said, though his tone was dry. “Mario’s still toying with the mini pizza idea, and I’m talking to a couple food truck vendors for weekends. Smokey Joe’s Barbecue has an opening next Friday night.”
Madison glanced up. “Might be worth conducting a survey to figure out what people really want food-wise. That way we don’t guess wrong.”
“Good idea,” Garrett said. “You want to handle it?”
She nodded. “I’ll draft something today.”
“And what about drink options?” one of the staffers asked. “I had a couple people mention they wished we had wine, said their spouse wasn’t a beer drinker.”
Garrett sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll look into licensing for wine down the line. For now, it’s beer. That’s what we do.”
Someone from the back chimed in, “Unless Madison’s cider makes the menu. I heard some folks at the bar wondering why it wasn’t on tap already.”
Garrett gave Madison a sidelong glance. “You’ve got fans.”
Madison smiled. “It’ll be available when we get back from Brewfest,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I’ll win the bet.”
Garrett flipped a page on his clipboard to hide the way his focus had already drifted back to her. “Speaking of Brewfest, we’ll be gone most of the weekend.”
Ryker looked between Garrett and Madison. “I’ll help you load. You have help setting up?”
Madison nodded. “All taken care of.”
“We’re leaving this afternoon,” Garrett said. “Ryker’s in charge here while we’re out.”
Several nods. No one looked surprised.
Garrett straightened, giving the group a final once-over. “We’ve had a strong start, but let’s not coast. Keep the standards up. Stay sharp. I want this place to feel just as welcoming three months from now as it did on day one.”
“Amen to that,” Ryker said, raising his coffee mug.
Garrett glanced at the clock. “Doors open in twenty. Let’s get ready.”
The group dispersed with quiet energy, voices murmuring about keg rotations and register refills. Madison lingered a moment longer, organizing her notes, aware of Garrett watching her from the corner of his eye.
“You’re good at this,” he said quietly, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
She met his gaze with a small smile. “So are you.”