I see no reason to dress up. Liam, always manscaped and tailored, will take one glance at my faded hoodie and worn jeans and think that I look like an idiot.
Let him think that for now.
My phone pings when I’m on my way out the door and it’s Danny. He wants to know what I’m up to today. I’ve been feeling guilty about hanging out with him so much when he has no clue that I felt up his little sister last weekend. Gretchen obviously hasn’t told him and I’m not about to discuss it either.
I’d like to say I just suffered a moment of weakness and forgot who she was but none of that is true. Maybe it’s a testament to just how scrambled my head is but I’ve been wanting her since I laid eyes on her again. When I found her alone in the dark, being all sassy and sad and honest, I couldn’t refuse.
The temptation to take her right then and there was almost the end of me.
Luckily, I stopped before I did something.
Well, something besides stick my tongue in her mouth, push my hand up her dress and touch her tits.
Then I went home and jerked off to ideas of how hot it would have been to go down on her right there in the backyard.
What a motherfucking prince I am.
Hopping into my Range Rover, I glance at the grey house down the street. I fire off a text to let Danny know I’ve got a meeting to deal with but I’ll be around later.
Yesterday he asked me a tough question. He asked what I would do if I were him. I’d already figured out that Danny hasn’t evolved into the most responsible guy. Settling down and having a family is not a thought that’s crossed his mind and now here he is, the guardian of two little girls in a town that doesn’t have much to offer a baseball player. It’s clear that Gretchen wants him to stay and suspects that he won’t. She’s already made up her mind to give up her own plans and dedicate herself to caring for her nieces right here where Jules wanted them to be raised.
Gretchen is a goddamn warrior. Those girls are lucky to have her.
I told Danny I had no idea what I’d do if I were him.
The weather has improved since the weekend. The sun is shining and the calm lake glimmers, looking deceptively warm. Though the outside temperature has climbed to the mid fifties, the water will still be icy.
Cassini Brewery was founded forty years ago when places like The Rosebriar Resort were still having their moment. Carmine Cassini knew little about the beer industry but his grandparents had owned a small vineyard in Sicily and he used to spend summers there. He learned fast and he was a damn good businessman. He was proud of what he’d built and made sure I knew he had faith I’d make him proud when my turn arrived to run the place.
It seems like there are more year round residents in Lake Stuart than there used to be. It also seems like every square foot of empty land surrounding the lake has been captured. Things look less crowded the farther I get from the water.
My favorite place in town was actually not my dad’s brewery but up the hill at the dead resort that used to be owned by the Aaronson family. From certain spots there were excellent views of the distant lake and it was peaceful in a way that it wasn’t peaceful elsewhere. The old resort buildings and cabins had been left to rot because no one got around to tearing them down and deciding what to do with the property. People would make up nonsense about the place being haunted but I never found anything the least bit creepy about hanging out up there no matter what time it was.
The exterior of Cassini Brewery has changed. The broad, architecturally simple building with wood paneling and the company logo painted in white above the main entrance has been redesigned. Someone had the bright idea to add a stone veneer that probably cost a fortune and installed huge brightly lit signage that can be seen all the way from the lake at night.
It’s tasteless as shit and unnecessary. Two things my dad always hated.
There’s a red Porsche in the parking lot. That was always Liam’s car of choice. He would drive one for a few years and then trade it in for a new model.
There are other cars here too. Some pickups and two minivans that likely belong to the folks who do the real work inside. I can also see a Jag and a handful of higher end Teslas.
Just beyond the main entrance of the brewery there’s a large bar that’s open to the public a few days a week. The fermentation tanks and bottling and distribution centers are all in the back. The admin offices are up on the second floor.
The leaden brick in my gut is made of dread and hatred. It’s been a long time since I’ve been face to face with Liam and I hope I can keep my cool.
While I’m taking a moment to control my anger, I look at Rosebriar Hill. The morning I was arrested, Liam called the cops to yank me out of my bed before I even had a chance to get dressed. I heard the accusation and was outraged but not too worried. After all, I didn’t think anyone would believe it. To me, the shittiest thing was hearing my father’s confused voice. He asked what was going on. He asked who we all were. Liam watched things unfold and stood back grinning like a clown.
The image of Gretchen’s face drops into my head suddenly and now I remember that she was there.
All the Aaronson kids were there.
Gretchen watched from the front seat of a car as I was taken away in my underwear. Danny was yelling. Jules was trying to keep him from hassling the cops. But Gretchen just stared. That was the morning she was being driven to some hospital in order to get her head back together.
I remember laughing at the view of her shocked little face because I’d never had the slightest thing in common with Danny’s younger sister. But there we were, me and Gretchen, both of us imprisoned inside in our messed up realities and feeling sorry for each other.
The next time I saw Gretchen Aaronson she was standing in the dining room of her old house on the day of her sister’s funeral.
I know I shouldn’t have kissed her.
We’ve barely spoken since that night and we haven’t found a reason to be alone together.
No, I definitely shouldn’t have kissed Gretchen Aaronson.
But I’d like to do it again. That, and a whole lot more.
At least thinking about Gretchen for a minute has sidelined my anger. I think I can step through the door of Cassini Brewery and face Liam without guns blazing.
I’m not expecting to walk right into a party but that seems to be exactly what’s happening. The place that I ran through a million times as a kid could have been described as modest rustic style with high quality wood everywhere. It’s been inexplicably reformed into an opulent art deco imitation with lots of black and gold amid splashes of blood red. I think it’s ugly as hell.
There is a group of women in the middle of the room, a knot of high heels, sleek legs and hair extensions. They all hold glasses and some faces swivel in my direction, instantly becoming coolly interested. One of them separates from the collection and sashays over.
“Hello.” Her smoky eyes sweep over me and she tosses a long swath of wavy brown hair over one shoulder. “I’m Whitney Cassini.” She presents an artificial smile and extends her hand.
I shake it, as briefly as possible. “Trent Cassini.”
Her laughter is piercing and phony. “Yes, I already guessed that we are family. You look just like your brother. It’s nice to finally meet you, Trent.”
“You’re Liam’s wife.”