Page 22 of Golden Touch
Great question, lady. “Hi, Dad. Sorry to make you wait.”
He grimaces. Then he gives the IV pole beside him an evil look. “Guess it doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m trapped here in this building all day.”
It’s true. After heart surgery, my father had an infectious reaction to his stent. The course of treatment is a grueling six-weeks of intravenous antibiotics, administered four times a day around the clock. That’s why he’s stuck here.
The nurse finishes checking the IV and turns around. Her name tag saysAlice. I watch as she fixes her gaze on the four-pack in my hand. “What do you have there? We don’t allow any alcohol or sugar sodas.”
“Oh, I wouldnever,” I gasp. “This is kombucha. It’s terrific for the gut biome. It will build him back up like that.” I snap my fingers.
“It had better,” Alice says. “I don’t know how much more I can take.” Then she marches out of the room.
Yikes.
“Making friends again?” Livia asks my dad. “Kinda risky being rude to the people with the needles.”
“She started it,” he grumbles. “Nash, close the door.”
God, his tone. I close the door, but I do it with gritted teeth. It’s stupid, but I spent my whole adult life wishing my father were happier to see me. I shouldn’t even care, but I don’t know how to stop.
He lifts his chin and looks me straight in the eye. “Never get old,” he says. “It’s a trash fire.”
This asshole. It’s no one’s fault but his that he had an untreated heart condition. And now the man wants a pity party? He’d have to be nicer first.
“I’m looking forward to getting old,” I say. “It really beats the alternatives.”
My father raises a hand and beckons like a king on his throne. “All right. Let’s taste.”
I want to throw the bottles at him, but Livia explodes first.
“For fuck’s sake,Lyle. Say a proper hello to your son. He brought you three beers to taste. And more importantly, he left a good job to come up here and help out. If you don’t fake a little gratitude, he’s going to hightail it back down highway 89, and you won’t see him again until the holidays.”
The room fills with a stunned silence, and I practically swallow my tongue. And then I nearly swallow it again when my father turns to me with a contrite expression.
“It’s good to see you Nash. I appreciate you bringing in those samples. Your sister couldn’t figure out how to do that. She got busted on her second attempt. Scared her silly.”
Figures he’d throw my sister under the bus while paying me a compliment. But I let it slide. “I always enjoy a good caper. Especially since it was all Livia’s idea. Are you sure you even need me in Vermont? Livia seems to run the place already.”
“I’m not a brewer,” she says, waving a hand at the four-pack. “I know how to keep the books clean, but not the beer tanks. And, unlike you freaks, I don’t have the nose for it. All beer tastes about the same to me.”
My father rolls his eyes. “I used to think she only said that to wound me. But we gave her some blind taste tests, and it did not go well. It’s her only real flaw. That and her bitchy mouth.”
“Hey—that’s a feature, not a bug.” She pulls a beer opener out of her pocket. “Now are you going to taste this stuff, or what? I’ve got a full day planned.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Yes, ma’am?Wow. If Livia got my father to perform a musical number and a tap dance, I’d only be marginally surprised.
I take one of the beers out of the pack and remove the top with the church key. “Here, Dad. This one is?—”
“Don’t tell me.”
I sigh.
He sniffs. “Meadow Gold. Day four?”
“Uh, yeah.” I guess that’s how it goes when you devote your entire life to the pursuit of the finest craft beer in America.
“Let’s see.” He tastes. “Okay. Yeah. Has a decent body already. Yeast seems happy. Malt character is solid. No hints of diacetyl, but keep an eye out for that.”
