To Brew or Not to Brew (11 page)

“Thanks,” I said.

He nodded. There was an awkward silence, then he said, “About the other night . . .”

I waited, mainly because I had no idea what to say.

“I want to apologize. It was supposed to be a special night celebrating my new job, and I ruined it.”

“You don't have to apologize. It was a nice dinner.”

“But I do.” He leaned against my car. “I shouldn't let Victoria get to me like that.”

“It's perfectly understandable. You were planning to marry her.” I was dying to know what had happened between them, but I was afraid to ask. I didn't want to hear he was still in love with her. I asked anyway and braced myself for the answer.

“It's a long story,” he said.

“So? I'd like to hear it.”

“Only if you're sure.”

We went back and forth like this a couple more times until I convinced him I really did want to know what happened. I needed to check on the kitten, so we decided he would follow me home. Jake made coffee while I fed Hops and made sure she hadn't destroyed anything in my absence. Fortunately, all she'd done was shred some toilet paper and scatter some litter across the floor. When the coffee was brewed, we settled down on the sofa and Hops made herself comfortable on Jake's lap.

“I think she likes you,” I said.

Jake grinned. “All the women do.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are so full of it.”

“Murp.” It appeared Hops agreed.

“So, let's hear that long story,” I said.

“Maybe it's shorter than I thought,” Jake said. “Basically, Victoria dumped me because I wasn't playing hockey anymore.”

“A
re you serious? I can't believe someone would do that.”

“I couldn't believe it at first, either,” Jake said. “I thought everything was great. She and her mother were looking at places for the reception, and she'd hired some famous designer to make her dress. Now that I look back on it, I should have known.”

“How could you know? It doesn't sound like anything was wrong.”
Other than that she was totally wrong for you.
Of course I didn't say that. I put my cup down on the end table.

“There were signs. I just didn't see them. Or maybe I didn't want to see them.”

“Like what?”

“Any place that I suggested for the wedding wasn't good enough. It had to be somewhere fancy. And expensive. The
more upscale, the better. She wanted me to get a custom-made tuxedo instead of renting one like everyone does around here. When I told her I wasn't going to shell out that much money for something I'd wear once, she looked at me like I had two heads. She probably had plans for me to wear it every weekend to whatever event she was going to drag me to. She and her mother are on the board of just about every charity, so there would be a lot of them.”

“Good thing you were out of town so much.”

“Yeah. Then she started criticizing what I wore. I bought a pair of jeans at a Walmart and she just about had a heart attack.” He pointed to his shirt. “This would have given her nightmares for a week.”

“Jake, I hate to say it, but you should be glad she broke it off.”

“I am now, but I sure wasn't at the time. Coming home, I realized she's definitely not the one for me.” He finished his coffee and put the cup on the coffee table. “I think what set me off the other night is that she's still trying to run my life. She thinks—well, it doesn't matter what she thinks. I'm done with her.” He lifted Hops from his lap and placed her on the sofa. “I'd better get going. I have to be at work bright and early tomorrow or my boss might regret hiring me.”

The conversation was far from over. There was a lot more I wanted to know, but he was right—it was late, and I didn't want to push him. I walked him to the door. “Your boss would understand. I hear she's a fantastic person.”

Jake smiled. “That she is.” He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead, which he'd done before, but this time his lips lingered just a little bit longer. “See you tomorrow,” he said.

I closed the door behind him, then leaned on it, grinning stupidly to myself.

*   *   *

I
t was going to be a busy Monday, so I left Hops at home. I called Mom and asked if she could check on her sometime during the day, and she said she would. I had planned on walking to work, but with our schizophrenic May weather, the temperature had dropped from seventy degrees yesterday to fifty today—and it was raining. So I grabbed an umbrella and a jacket and headed for my car.

After parking in the lot beside the brewery, my first stop was Cupcakes N'at. The bakery was busy. Customers stood three-deep at the counter but it didn't faze Candy at all. She smiled and chatted them up, and no one seemed to be grumpy while waiting. It would have been different if Dominic had been one of them. I breathed easier knowing he wasn't. I must have been the last customer of the morning rush. When it was finally my turn, I was the only one left. “I think I scared everyone away,” I said.

“You wish,” Candy said with a laugh. “You couldn't scare a fly.”

That wasn't exactly true. Someone was frightened enough of me to try to keep the brewpub from opening. “I'm just happy not to run into Dominic this morning.”

“Don't let him bother you. I've known Dom for years. He's all talk.”

“Then explain to me why he grabbed my arm and threatened me when I went to see him on Saturday.” I told her what happened.

Candy frowned. “That doesn't sound like Dom. At all. I
wonder what got into him. He's always been a little grouchy, but he's never laid a hand on anyone except for drunks who got out of hand in the bar.”

“I sure don't fit that category. And grouchy doesn't begin to describe the way he acted. He was livid. He accused me of forcing him out of business. I tried to explain I had no intention of doing anything like that but he wouldn't listen. He said he'd keep me from opening if it's the last thing he does.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Candy asked.

I shook my head. “That's not a good idea. If he's the one who killed Kurt—”

“Do you really think he did?”

“Yes, I do. He's the only one who's threatened me. I haven't talked to everyone yet, but no one else seems to be dead set against a brewpub in the neighborhood.”

“I wouldn't say there's no one else.”

“Who, then?”

“Wait here.” Candy disappeared into the back of the store and returned with a bright blue sheet of paper. “Here's at least one other person who doesn't like what you're doing.”

She passed the paper across the top of the glass bakery case and I read it. It was a flyer for Save Our Lawrenceville, an organization I'd never heard of. The first sentence read:

Stop the destruction of our historic landmark.

I looked at Candy and raised an eyebrow.

“Keep reading,” she said.

The last of the historic Steel City Brewery buildings is being turned into a modern restaurant and bar and scheduled to open soon. We at Save Our Lawrenceville must stop this travesty! Our former brewery proudly served the Pittsburgh area for over a century through two world wars and even survived Prohibition! It must be granted landmark status by any means necessary. Come to the meeting on Thursday evening to help us make this possible. It's not too late!

Although I wasn't familiar with the organization, I recognized the name at the bottom of the page. Frances Donovan. “Looks like she's at it again,” I said.

“You know this Frances Donovan?”

“Sort of. I've never actually met her, but when I first put in an offer for my building, she'd been working to get it declared a historic landmark. She wanted to turn it into some kind of museum.”

“A museum? That's ridiculous. Let me get this straight. The place used to be a brewery. It's a brewery again, but she wants to put a stop to it and stuff it full of old things?”

I couldn't help smiling at Candy's observation. “That about sums it up.”

“She must have more money than brains. No wonder the city turned her down.” She pointed to the paper in my hands. “What do you think she's up to now?”

“I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out.”

“Does this mean Dom is off your list?”

“Not at all,” I said. “He's still at the top, but Frances Donovan is a close second. Especially if her
by any means necessary
includes murder.”

“So, you're going to the meeting?”

“I sure am. Care to join me?”

Candy grinned. “Honey, I wouldn't miss it for the world. This is going to be fun!”

I had a feeling it would be far from fun, but I had to see what Frances had planned. Even if she wasn't the violent type, that didn't mean she hadn't been the one breaking into the pub. Or she could have had someone do it for her. In any case, I needed to find out what this group was up to.

We chatted for a few more minutes while I paid for my blueberry muffin. She interrogated me about my dinner with Jake. She still didn't believe me that nothing had happened between us. I skipped telling her about the call from his ex-fiancée. That was Jake's business, and I was sure he wouldn't want all of Lawrenceville to hear about his love life. I definitely didn't mention the little kiss on the forehead he'd given me last night.

When I got outside, I stopped to open my umbrella and noticed that all of the businesses up and down the street—with the exception of mine, of course—had bright blue papers stuck in their door handles. The rain had slowed, but most of the flyers were wet and possibly unreadable. It didn't bode well for a large turnout Thursday night—not that I expected many of my neighbors to go. It would be interesting to see who did.

I'd already had coffee before I left my loft that morning, so I skipped my usual jaunt to Jump, Jive & Java. I'd stop later to get my favorite barista's take on Frances Donovan's quest to stop me from opening. I imagined Kristie would have a few choice things to say. After dropping my purse, jacket, and umbrella off in my office, I took my muffin to
the kitchen and warmed it up in the microwave, then went back to my desk. Nicole was due in at eleven for her first day, and I worked on getting all the necessary paperwork ready for her to sign. When I had everything in order, I headed to the brewery.

This was the part of my job I liked the best. It was so peaceful here in the morning, and there was always a lingering scent of grain and yeast in the air. I checked the pressure and temperature gauges on the fermentation tanks. Everything was as it should be. I didn't have time to brew a new batch today, but I lugged the malt I'd need for tomorrow over to the mash tun. I wondered if I'd ever be able to look at the tank without picturing Kurt. I doubted it.

The morning passed quickly. Jake came in at ten. He had two part-time kitchen workers coming in for training that afternoon, which meant more paperwork. He offered to help, so I showed him what needed to be filled out for each employee. When Nicole came in at eleven, I introduced her to Jake. He took a step backward after I made the introduction, probably bracing himself in case she had the same reaction as Candy. Nicole didn't seem to recognize his face or his name. She signed all her forms, then I showed her around. She had some good ideas for making a few things more efficient.

After the tour, Nicole and I returned to my office. “One of your first duties will be to learn about the beers we'll be brewing and serving here. You'll need to know as much about them as you do the food we'll serve. Many of the people who come in here will know a lot about craft beer and they'll expect you to know more than they do. Some of them will even try to trip you up.”

“And don't forget the know-it-alls who don't know a thing but think they do,” she said.

I laughed. “I've met a few of those.”

“I just let them think whatever they want. You can't change their minds.”

“Exactly.” I liked Nicole more every minute. She was going to be a great asset. I slid a sample menu across the desk. “You can start with this. There's a short description in here, and I'll have more for you later.”

“Can I take this home with me?”

“Sure,” I said. I had a feeling she'd have it memorized by tomorrow.

With Jake occupied in the kitchen and Nicole reorganizing the area where we'd be storing menus, napkins, and the like, I had two hours to myself before my scheduled interview.

Time to talk to more neighbors.

*   *   *

T
he Lawrenceville Good-Value Hardware Store was located next door to the Galaxy. I hoped Dominic Costello was busy in his bar and didn't have an urgent need to buy a hammer while I was in the store. I'd only met the owner, Ralph Meehan, a handful of times, but he was always pleasant enough. The small store was packed full of everything imaginable. If you needed it, he most likely had it and knew exactly where to find it in the hodgepodge. Try to get that kind of service in one of the big-box stores.

Mr. Meehan stood behind a faded Formica-topped counter at the back of the store. I picked my way down a narrow aisle. A clerk on the other side of the store was
helping a customer with what appeared to be a rather large order. Mr. Meehan was on the phone. He held the receiver between his shoulder and his ear while he flipped through a four-inch-thick catalog of some sort. The way his head tilted to the side made a strand of his gray comb-over fall in the wrong direction. It was hard not to stare as it bobbed up and down with every word he spoke. Thankfully he hung up the phone before I became too mesmerized.

“Well, if it isn't the little beer maker,” he said.

There was an odd note to his voice, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was.

“What do you want?” he asked.

That was definitely a tone I hadn't heard him use before. “Actually, I'm here to see you if you have a minute.”

He pushed the catalog he'd been using aside. “I don't if you're here to harass me.”

Harass him? “Why would I do something like that?”

“I don't know. You tell me.” He crossed his arms over his navy blue polo shirt.

“Mr. Meehan, I have no idea what you mean.”

“I know all about your visit next door.”

The lightbulb flashed on. He'd been talking to Dominic Costello.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. I thought you were a nice young lady, but what you're doing to Dom—”