Page 41 of Her Hometown Man
Lane nodded. “I met a guy in college who was into brewing beer. He didn’t really have any place to do it himself, but he was learning everything he could about it, same as I was. Forsomeday, we both said.”
“Probably not easy to hide that kind of setup in a dorm room.”
Lane chuckled. “I met him whileIwas there, but he wasn’t a student. He was a cowboy, actually—worked on some huge ranch and he was in town for something. Some of the guys and I went out to a bar and I ran into him. Started talking. I saw him a few more times while I was out there, and we’ve kept in touch some since then, off and on. And I was telling David about him and that’s how I found out he was really into brewing, too. We were always talking about it, and then we started experimenting on a small scale. He was always writing notes in that journal of his, for someday.”
“You’ve done more than your share of talking about it over the years, too,” Case pointed out. “You might not have taken copious notes but you’ve been planning this in your head for years.”
“I should give Irish—the cowboy—a call and tell him I’m actually doing it, and that if he’s ever out this way, he should stop by and check it out.”
Case nodded, but he wasn’t sure how likely that was. Lane had gone to the University of Montana to earn a BS in forestry because it was cheaper than staying in New England for his degree, so no matter where his old brew buddy was going, New Hampshire was going to be out of his way.
“The point is,” Lane continued, “whether it was Irish or David, we spent a lot of time talking aboutsomeday, and that someday is here for me now. Under the exhaustion and the stress, I’m about as happy as I’ve ever been.”
“Then I’m happy for you.” Just as Case slapped his hand against Lane’s shoulder, he heard Boomer bark. “That’s my cue to wrap it up.”
“I’ll close up here. Thanks again for the help.”
When he got outside, Boomer was sitting patiently on the sidewalk, waiting for him. Rather than stand and wait for a signal to cross, though, the dog turned back when he spotted Case. He wasn’t looking to visit the Suttons. He just wanted his person home.
Before they went inside, Case couldn’t help looking back at the Sutton house, though. Light was shining from Gwen’s window, so he took for granted she was still writing. As much as he wanted to hear her voice, or at least exchange a few text messages, he didn’t want to break her train of thought if she was on a roll, so he sighed and went inside.
He’d be patient—for now. But he wasn’t letting her shove them back in that damn box.
Chapter Thirteen
We have a message from the Stonefield Police Department to whoever keeps stealing the High Street sign: Another one is being installed this week (the fifth this year alone) and they are installing a camera to keep an eye on it. No, you won’t be able to find the camera. But if you steal the sign, they’ll be able to find you.
—Stonefield GazetteFacebook Page
Gwen tried to tell herself she was imagining the tension in the taproom this morning. She’d been up until almost two in the morning writing, and she’d discovered the hard way that her two rambunctious nephews didn’t magically sleep in or discover their inside voices just because their aunt had missed her bedtime. And there was no summer camp on Saturdays, so the yelling wasn’t temporary.
Over the years, Laura had filled in at the thrift shop once in a while if Ellen was sick or just needed a Saturday off. Today was one of those days, because her mom hadn’t slept well and was out of sorts.
Gwen knew the feeling.
Despite not having enough sleep, she had joined her mother and sisters. They’d scrounged several boxes of glasses from the thrift shop that could stand in for the real glasses they’d ordered. Evie had suggested, since there wasn’t a lot they could do until the Sheetrock was done, that they use the glasses to make sure the bartender could work efficiently and that everything would work in reality the way it had on paper. If they needed anything changed—shelves moved or things rearranged—it was their last chance to do it.
It had sounded like a fun activity at first, but the mood was off today and after paying close attention for a few minutes, Gwen realized it was Ellen. Her mom was more tense than usual, and her eyes looked slightly puffy—as if she’d cried not long ago or hadn’t slept at all.
Ellen took a glass out of the box, and Gwen waited for it to be handed off to be put on the shelf behind the bar, but her mom only stared at it, turning it in her hands. When the silence stretched on, she realized her mom wasn’t checking out the glass and didn’t appear to even be seeing it.
“Mom?” she asked, worry making her throat feel tight. Ellen looked up at her, her expression blank. “Are you okay?”
She slowly shook her head. “No, not really.”
“We can handle this, Mom. Why don’t you go inside and relax for a while?”
“That won’t help.”
“Do you not feel good?” Evie asked. “You said you were feeling out of sorts, but are you sick or...?”
Her sister let the question die away as Ellen shook her head again, more emphatically. At a loss, Gwen started to reach out for the glass because her mother’s hands were shaking, but she stopped when Ellen started talking.
“The night before our wedding, my mother told me to put five dollars away every week and to never touch it unless it was literally the only money that could put food in my kids’ mouths. I did that. Every single week, even if I had to scrounge for change in the car and the couch cushions, I put that five dollars away. Eventually I opened a savings account for it because you can only keep so much money in coffee cans.” She paused, taking a long, slow breath. “Once you girls were older, I stopped thinking of it as emergency money and more as a retirement vacation fund.”
Gwen was already mentally reviewing what around them could be used as tissues because they were all about to be awash in Ellen’s grief that they’d never get to take that vacation together. But tears didn’t come. Her mother’s face reddened and her chest heaved from deep breathing that looked a lot like trying to contain rage.
“I gave him that money toward the up-front costs,” Ellen continued. “Over ten thousand dollars. He told me he’d give it back with interest within two years and that two years in would be a perfect time to leave the business in Lane’s hands and take me away for a month to wherever I wanted to go. And it’s all gone.He’sgone.”
