Page 27 of That Thing You Brew
My family had teased me incessantly about it, so I knew it would make my sisters laugh.
I was right.
Laughing emojis and one final GIF from Edyta: A Ridgie the Bear jump-scaring me when I arrived for a home game earlier in the season. I’d panicked, run, and nearly spilled my toffee coffee.
I guessed they did know about my GIFs.
* * *
I wasable to get on a direct flight later that morning from Denver to Munich. Dad sent an olive branch in the form of a driver to meet me at the airport, so I was hopeful my decision to accept the inheritance wouldn’t permanently damage our relationship.
Opa’s chateau was located in a tiny kingdom, nestled in the Bavarian Alps, about an hour south of Munich on the way to Innsbruck, not far from the Austrian border. If you blinked, you’d miss it.
As the car turned off the main road onto the estate, I was hit with a pang of nostalgia as we neared Schwannenschloss. The memories I had here were out of a storybook. The well-manicured lawns and gardens, the clover field, the architecture, and most importantly, the images of my grandparents and the overwhelming feelings of love and security. Joyous celebrations with the extended family at Christmas, summertime exploring the terrain. Once, Dani and I wandered so far away we thought we’d never be found, only to spot smoke from a chimney. We made a run for the source and found the ski resort town of Garmisch. We’d wandered west all the way into Germany!
My mind raced, picturing Penny here, seeing what she’d helped to save and listing off the places I wanted to take her when hockey season ended.
June was a long way from the bitter cold of late December. The blustery mountain winds and cloud cover suited the somber tone of my visit. It was like the sun was also mourning for the generous, upbeat man who could—and did—find joy in everything. He’d also told me that every important decision came with a cost. Was the Schwann legacy worth putting Penny through a marriage of convenience that might or might not work out? Was it worth losing her if it didn’t?
After years of watching her from afar, pining for her, and now finally getting to know her, I had a whole new set of fears.
At the top of the list wasn’t losing Schwannenschloss. It was imagining the rest of my life without Penny in it.
CHAPTER8
Penny
Today was the soft opening of the Palmer City Coffee Loft, and Xavier was on a plane from Munich to Denver. Our first wedding planning meeting was this afternoon, and we were having dinner at his place again tonight. It was crazy how much I’d missed him while he was away. How did I become so invested so fast? I’d made it through three years without seeing him every day. Why had that suddenly changed?
We’d texted the whole time he was gone but hadn’t spoken over the phone. I was worried about him. I didn’t know what it felt like to lose my best friend, but I could imagine the pain of the hole in my heart if something happened to Tasha—or anyone in my family, for that matter. We Palmers were close-knit and thick as thieves.
The café was buzzing with excitement and caffeine. Every staff member was working the morning shift, and it was a good thing. Despite the frosty morning, our loyal customers—and some new ones—showed up in force. Word had traveled fast that we had a freebie today, and whether it had to do with wanting to support a new-ish Main Street business, curiosity, or the free-with-purchase Coffee-Loft-branded travel tumbler, I couldn’t be sure. I snagged one for me and one for Xavier when the supply started to wane.
By 11 a.m., we were almost out of the tumblers. I handed the last one to Montgomery Biddington, who never drank coffee, ever.
“Hey, Monty. Your usual iced chocolate?” He was Tasha’s age, and I’d known him since I was in preschool. He was one of the people I could talk to easily. As the tag-along little sister, I was there for a lot of their competitive sparring. He, my sister, and Gabby had been on more than a few cheer teams together when they were younger, and all three had competed on the Plex’s Worlds teams.
I was also there when Monty declined to be Tasha’s stunt partner in favor of Gabby. And I was there when Tasha took a bad fall when she and her assigned partner attempted to do a new flip sequence which resulted in her breaking her leg and missing the Worlds competition her junior year of college. She hadn’t cheered since, opting to use her sports fitness degree to coach instead.
Monty smirked. “Just a bottled water for today. Nana Booboo can have this.” He turned the cup around in his hand and looked at it with disdain. The disdain deepened into a full frown when he looked up at the menu. “Pumpkin spice blah-tes in the winter? And ‘Lofty-sized?’ Isn’t large big enough? Don’t these people know how bad coffee is for you?”
“Pumpkin spice all year round now, and I’m not sure they care,” I replied, pointing to the new refrigerator on the side wall, which Marie had restocked twice already this morning. “I certainly don’t.”
He rolled his eyes, and I hid a smile while he excused himself from the line to retrieve a water. Monty was a pumpkin spice hater and took every opportunity to remind us every fall, especially since it was Tasha’s favorite. While I processed the transaction, his gaze swept the counter and tables.
“Looking for Tasha?” I asked. Antagonizing her had to be his favorite pastime.
“Actually, no.” His lips curled into the arrogant smile that grated on Tasha’s nerves. “I’m here on an errand. As you know, my parents host the annual Valentine’s Day fundraiser. This year, they chose a Renaissance theme. And sinceyou”—he waved his water at me in circles—“seem to like that sort of thing, they asked me to ask you to play during the dinner hour and fill in during the band’s breaks.”
I raised an eyebrow. The Biddington family’s annual event was well-attended by people who knew people and local citizens of importance.
He hadn’t mentioned payment. I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I mustered up my nerve and took a risk. The Biddingtons had money. Lots of it. One of Monty’s ancestors had won a good-size parcel of land gambling with one of my Palmer ancestors.
I pinned him with a hard stare and tried not to waver. “My fee is $100 per hour.”
He snorted. “That’s a joke, right? This is forcharity.”
“Is the band donatingtheirtime?” I knew my worth, and if I was ever going to make a living with my music, I had to stop playing for free.
