Page 15 of Stout Bear

“I understand if you don’t want me to hang out with her.”

“No. I don’t have a problem with that. I just wish it was me you were hanging out with, and not my little sister.”

Laney gazed down at the card. Liv was an artist. And from the way she dressed, Laney could tell Liv had a sense of style. “Maybe she can introduce me to some cool places to shop on Fate Mountain.”

“I’m sure Liv would love that,” Max said. “I think it would be great if you two became friends. Just promise me you’ll wear your new outfit to the festival.”

He gave her a pleading smile that Laney wasn’t sure how to interpret. Her face burned when she realized he was judging her appearance. She felt caught between a rock and a hard place. She wanted to run and hide.

She’d lied on the mate.com profile. But now she was committed to not only going to the festival but to also hanging out with Max’s sister. Laney wanted to dig herself a hole and climb inside it, not coming out for the rest of her life.

Chapter

Sixteen

Max stoodat the brewery’s back entrance, watching a truck unload large metal canisters labeled BioClean. Flint stepped out in front of his crew, clipboard in hand, flashing a confident smile at Max.

The morning sun illuminated the shiny canisters, making them look almost futuristic against the rustic brewery. Flint’s team bustled around, each member wearing a professional uniform bearing the BioClean logo.

“You’ll be amazed how these microbes transform your water. Think of them as little warriors,” Flint said.

Max nodded stiffly. “Just make sure it’s done before we open for business.”

He clenched his jaw, uneasy at Flint’s slick sales tone, yet hoping this fixed the contamination crisis. The brewery couldn’t afford another batch of tainted beer, especially with the festival approaching.

Flint’s crew wheeled in hoses and connectors, positioning the specialized microbial canisters near the brewery’s waterlinefrom the storage tanks. Max stood by, arms crossed, overseeing their progress. The canisters were sleek and cylindrical, fitted with digital gauges that showed temperature and flow rates. The hum of machinery echoed through the brewing floor.

“We’ll hook these up in series, letting the microbes feed on any harmful chemicals,” Flint said. “We calibrate them to your specific water composition.”

Max felt a flare of anxiety over the cost. He hoped the money wasn’t wasted on empty promises. The price tag had made him wince when signing the contract, but he saw no alternative. He pictured the festival looming, the community’s trust at stake. If Flint’s system worked as claimed, the expense would prove worthwhile.

As the installation continued, Max calculated how many successful months they needed to recoup the investment. The numbers didn’t quite add up, but he pushed that concern aside. Survival first, profits later.

Noah stormed into the brewing area, tablet in hand, confronting Max near the BioClean canisters. Gwen and Liv followed close behind, expressions tense. Noah’s brow was furrowed, lines of worry etched across his forehead. “This is a massive expense we didn’t budget for. You’re killing our finances, Max,” Noah said.

“First you don’t tell us about the water issues, and now this. Is this what you meant by ‘handling it,’ Max?” Liv said.

Gwen added, “Did you even compare other solutions?”

He felt cornered by his siblings, each demanding answers he didn’t have time to give. A flicker of guilt stirred as he recalled making the deal impulsively, but he refused to show weakness. His role as the oldest required projecting confidence, evenwhen doubts plagued him. Max stepped away from Flint’s crew, raising his hands to calm his siblings.

“I had to act fast. We can’t risk the festival or more failed batches with our water compromised. This is our best option,” Max said.

Gwen crossed her arms. “And you never thought to consult us about either issue?”

His chest tightened, feeling a surge of defensiveness as he tried to justify his unilateral decision. He couldn’t admit he was terrified of losing the family legacy and disappointing their parents. The thought of calling home to explain a business failure motivated his desperate measures.

“There wasn’t time for a family meeting,” Max said.

Noah thrust his tablet forward, showing spreadsheets with red-highlighted line items. He tapped the screen repeatedly, frustration radiating from him. Rows of numbers filled the tablet’s display, each column referencing festival costs and potential shortfalls. The buzz of drills filled the tense silence that followed each pointed jab from Noah.

“You’ve put us thousands over budget. We don’t have a magic safety net,” Noah said.

Max snapped, “I know what I’m doing. This is necessary.”

He hated hearing the truth of how dire their finances were but refused to show doubt in front of Flint or his siblings. The brewery operated with thin margins in the best of times. This emergency expense threatened their stability, but contaminated water guaranteed their collapse.

“We can adjust some expenses,” Max suggested.

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