Yes. That meant Baxter had brought in some samples of his latest brews.
Excellent consolation prize, my man, Ben told himself. Far better than going back to the office and crunching more numbers—though that was what he loved to do. It was a lot easier than talking to people. Especially bright, sunny, interesting people like Callie.
Though the two of them never had a problem finding something to talk about. He particularly liked it when they got into debates about which was better, Star Wars or Star Trek (Star Wars, obviously—which they both agreed on but he liked to play devil’s advocate just to wind her up), or whether the seventh season of Buffy actually sucked as much as everyone said it did—except for the last episode.
He particularly liked to rile Callie up about why she was on Team Edward instead of Team Jacob when it was completely obvious to him—even though he’d never read Twilight—that Edward was a creepy stalker who would turn off any normal woman. And the guy glittered? Really?
Callie’s cheeks would get all flushed and her eyes would spark and the words would tumble from her soft pink mouth at the speed of light as she explained why her point of view was the right one.
He loved it when she did that.
No, they never had a lack of things to discuss or talk about. It was the getting beyond the talking that had been his problem. Ugh.
“You’re knocking off pretty early on a Tuesday for a man who owns his own business,” said Baxter when he saw Ben.
“I caught a whiff of fresh brews in the air, and it lured me in,” Ben replied with a pointed look at the unlabeled brown bottles on the bar.
“Well, since your office is across the street, I guess I’ll buy that,” Baxter said. “I was going to text you anyway because I’ve got something I want you to try.”
“Lay it on me,” Ben said, sliding onto a stool next to him. “Hi Kendy,” he said to the bartender and manager. She had been his baby-sitter when he was ten.
“Hey, Ben. I promise I’ll get you those end of year projections tomorrow,” she said with a grimace. “You know how much I love doing that kind of stuff. Not.” She placed an empty pilsner glass on the counter in front of him. “You’re going to like Bax’s latest.”
“It’s a maple sugar stout with coffee overtones,” said Baxter, popping the top of one of the brown bottles. “A Baxter’s Beatnik Brews original.”
Besides being a freelance journalist who wrote for several publications in the area, Baxter James was the brewmaster and owner of what was locally known as B-Cubed.
“Just so long as it doesn’t have wintergreen in it,” Ben said with a shudder. “That was a big mistake.”
“I’ll say,” Kendra said under her breath. “Couldn’t give that shit away, and I bought two full kegs of it.”
“Hey, now, come on,” said Baxter, playing hurt. “A brewmaster can’t come up with a winner every time. And I was trying to make it very, you know, Up North in Michigan.”
“Oh, man, that’s good,” Ben said after his first sip. Then he went back in for a second, larger taste (he’d learned from experience not to take a big slug of any “test” B-Cubed beers). “Oh, that’s really good, Baxter.” He looked at Kendra. “I need something to eat with this…maybe some nachos? Heavy on the chili and jalapeños. Extra sour cream.”
“You got it,” she said. “Bax? You want anything?”
“Make it two. I think you’re right,” said the brewmaster. “Nachos and maple sugar stout—a match made in heaven. Hey, Dec. You made it!”
Ben turned to see Declan Zyler1, a blacksmith who’d recently moved back to Wicks Hollow in order to raise his teenaged daughter when her mother moved out east. Apparently, Dec hadn’t even known he had a kid until the daughter called him out of the blue about two years ago.
“I heard there was free beer,” Dec said, slapping Ben on the back as he slid onto the next stool. “Good to see you, Ben. So glad the Trivia King is here—I hope you’re going to stick around. Oh, hey, I promise I’ll get those end of year numbers to you tomorrow, all right? Sorry about the delay. I hate doing that sort of stuff.”
Ben nodded. “No worries. I can’t believe Steph let you out of the house.”
They all laughed because Stephanie, Declan’s daughter, was now sixteen and had her driver’s license. Which meant she was never home—at least according to Declan. And her new-found freedom was, according to Declan, the cause of a lot of silvery gray popping up in his dark auburn hair.
“She and Leslie went up to Grand Rapids for a concert. Barry Manilow of all things. Hey, what are we drinking?” Declan picked up one of the unlabeled bottles and gave Baxter a hopeful look.
“Yeah, give it a try.”
“So Trib says Callie’s in town,” said Kendra, giving Ben a knowing look as she set an empty plate and napkin-wrapped flatware in front of him.
Crap. Trust Kendra to remember his crush on Callie from all those years ago. She’d even helped him make a Valentine’s Day card for Callie when he was in fifth grade and it wasn’t cool for guys to like girls. He’d given it to her anonymously, of course, and he didn’t think she ever knew who it came from.
“Yeah. I just saw her over at the clock tower,” he replied, keeping his voice very casual. He hoped the slight flush he felt creeping over his face wasn’t noticeable. At least the beard would help.
“The old creepy, cursed place?” said Baxter. “What was she doing there?”
“She’s getting married there—get this—on New Year’s Eve,” Ben told him, avoiding Kendra’s eyes. But he still felt the weight of them as they locked on him.
“On New Year’s Eve? Are you serious?” Baxter swiveled on his stool to look at him. “That’s…brave.”
“Why is that brave?” asked Declan, sampling the beer. “Oh, yes, this is so much better than that wildflower honey wheat beer you tried before. I think I need a veggie omelette to go with it, Kendra.”
“How about nachos instead?” she replied. “Eggs and beer…no way. Not in my bar.”
“Uh, sure?” Declan glanced at Ben and Baxter, both of whom shrugged. “If you don’t want to serve eggs and beer, why do you have omelettes on the menu?”
She shook her head as she wiped up the thickly shellacked counter. “Because Andy makes the best omelettes in the county, that’s why. You just can’t have one with beer.”
Declan gave her a confused look, then shrugged. “All right, now that we have that settled…who is Callie by the way?”
“Callie Quigley,” said Kendra, still, apparently, feeling the need to be nosy and interfering, “is Ben’s big crush from—when was it—first grade?—all the way through senior year of high school. He made her the sweetest pink and purple valentine when he was in fifth grade. He even put butterflies on it because she had these cute butterfly ponytail holders she used to wear all the time.”
Ben took another swig of beer. He should have just gone back to the office, dammit. “Well, I thought they were really cute,” he said when Baxter and Declan looked at him. “The butterfly things in her hair.”