Page 4 of Her Hometown Man
“I’m sorry, Evie,” Mal said. “Dad wanted to find the right time to tell you, but he didn’t want to spoil the holidays and that’s pretty much the only time you come home, so...”
“Yeah, it’s totally my fault none of you told me Dad and my ex were business besties,” Evie snapped.
“Girls,” Ellen said in a pleading tone. “It’s my fault.”
“It’s Dad’s fault,” Gwen snapped, and they all fell silent as they tried to reconcile anger with grief.
“We can do this,” Mallory said. “People start breweries all the time. If other people can do it, so can we.”
“We don’t have any choice,” Gwen said. “Where do we start?”
“Case is coming over tomorrow to look things over, and I have a few things I’m going to ask him to help with to save us some money,” Ellen said. “He’s been such a help around here since your dad passed, and I hate to ask him, but for us and for Lane, he’ll help out.”
Gwen had stopped processing the words her mother was saying as soon as Case Danforth’s name came out of her mouth. She was too busy making sure she revealed no reaction whatsoever to mention of the boy next door. Or man across the street, as the case may be.
She couldn’t remember a time she hadn’t had a crush on Casey “don’t call me that” Danforth. Younger Gwen had mooned over his shaggy brown hair and dark eyes. Adult Gwen liked the way he kept it trimmed now, though it was still thick enough so her fingers itched to bury themselves in it. Just a little shy of six feet, he was what she considered a perfect height, and working outdoors kept him strong, lean and sun-kissed.
But she’d always been awkward around boys—even ones who were practically part of the family thanks to proximity and parental friendships—and then he asked Mallory to the winter carnival dance the year they were juniors and Mal was a sophomore.
Gwen had hidden her broken heart and never let on how wrenching it was to see her sister and the boy of her dreams together. And even once they’d broken up, Case remained forever off-limits to her. He was her sister’s first love. Okay, maybe not firstlove. They’d been kids, but they had dated almost a year. She couldn’t date her sister’s ex, regardless.
But the crush remained, held in check largely thanks to the fact she’d rarely seen him since she’d moved out of Stonefield over fifteen years ago.
But whenever shewasin town, she was aware that ember had never gone totally cold. Even during her last visit—the darkest days of her life—when he’d offered a comforting hug, she’d been aware of how good it felt to have his arms around her.
If Case was going to be crossing the street all the time, working with them to dig her mother and sister out of the hole her dad had left them in, she was going to have to make sure that ember didn’t flare up into an active flame again.
Her feelings for Case Danforth were a secret she had no intention of sharing.
Chapter Two
We want to give a grateful shout-out to D&T Tree Service for trimming the trees in the square so our little town will look its best for our annual Old Home Day festivities, honoring the New England tradition of celebrating our hometowns. And nobody wants a repeat of 1997, when a tree branch fell on the maple syrup vendor’s cart. Thankfully, nobody was hurt, but everybody who tried to picnic that year might remember the ensuing invasion of ants. Anyhow, thank you to Case Danforth and Lane Thompson for doing their part to keep Stonefield beautiful!
—Stonefield GazetteFacebook Page
Lane showed up for the breakfast meeting as promised, but Case wasn’t surprised when his cousin took off as soon as their business was finished. He claimed he had too much work to do on the pile of town, state and federal paperwork necessary to make and sell an alcoholic beverage, and Case believed that. But he also knew that Mallory and Ellen had probably told Evie who David’s partner was by now. He’d always felt that was a ridiculous thing to keep a secret, but it had mattered to her dad, so they’d all kept their mouths shut. He couldn’t imagine that revelation had gone over well.
After he’d cleaned up the breakfast mess, he took Boomer outside to do his business. Once the dog was done and appeared to be contemplating a good place for his third nap of the day, Case told him they were going to see Ellen and he perked up.
They crossed the street, and Boomer wasted no time bounding up the front steps. By the time Case caught up with him, the ornate front door with its fancy stained glass inset was opening.
He was expecting Ellen or Mal, but it was Gwen who opened the door, and then she froze. “Oh. I didn’t hear you knock.”
“Because I hadn’t yet.”
“Oh,” she said again, and he smiled. For a woman who made her living with words, she was working with a pretty limited vocabulary this morning. “I was just going to take a look around the carriage house while I wait for Mom to finish getting ready.”
“I’ll go with you.” They started across the yard and, when he looked back, he saw that Boomer was content to sprawl on the porch and nap while waiting for a more interesting offer to come along. The massive porch on the old Queen Anne–style home offered protection from the cold wind in the winter and deep shade in the summer, so it was the dog’s usual spot whenever Case was helping the Suttons with something outdoors.
With its cream siding and green trim and shutters, the Sutton house loomed large in a neighborhood of two-story capes like his own. It was a beautiful old house kept in good repair, and the carriage house that sat next to it—separated by a large, paved parking area and a lawn—was as beautiful. It was painted green with cream trim to complement the house, and was larger than many of the homes around them.
Inside, it wasn’t so beautiful right now. When he opened the door and flipped the light on, he heard Gwen’s quiet groan and sympathized. David and Lane had gutted the cavernous space, right down to the studs, and the only part they’d put an effort into putting back together as of yet was the back wall. The stairs down to the cellar—where the magic happened—were cut off from the rest of the room by a glass wall with a pass-coded door that kept the space open and lit while keeping the stairs inaccessible to the public. Or more accurately, to anybody who wasn’t Lane. Shelves on the back wall behind the glass would display vintage brewing equipment David had collected over the years.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he reassured her. “Except for that strip down that right-hand wall and the restroom in that corner to the left of the back door, this is going to be open space with tables, anyway, so the lighting will be most of the work and expense, and the plumbing and appliances, of course.”
“There was talk of a menu. Where’s the kitchen?”
“See that area marked off by studs? The bar will go down the wall and end at the start of the kitchen.”
