“What did I miss?” he asks. “Sorry I’m late. It’s going to be a good sap year.”
“Your wife cooked a feast, and she’s probably in early labor,” Grandpa says.
“What? Really?” Griff goes pale.
“He’s kidding,” Audrey says, sitting down.
“I’ll say grace,” Grandpa says. “Can’t wait any longer to eat those pea tendrils.” He takes a breath and then rattles off a prayer at the speed of sound. “God is great God is good let us thank Him for our food by his hands we are fed give us Lord our daily bread amen.”
I didn’t even know it was possible to pray that quickly. But the old man has his hand on the serving fork a split second after the amen.
And that’s my cue to serve up beverages. As the salmon and vegetables are served around, I pass out little tasting cups—three to each person.
I even give my niece an empty one because the cups are cute and she begs me with her eyes.
“Okay, friends. Tonight I brought you three different non-alcoholic beers that Griff and I have been working on. None have been named yet, because we haven’t picked our winner. But suggestions are always encouraged.”
“I can’t wait!” May says. “I haven’t been able to participate in a Shipley tasting in almost two years.”
“For nine months I’ve had to spit out the ciders we’ve been tasting,” Audrey says. “So let’s do this. Bring on the NA beer. Although I have to say it’s a shame you guys couldn’t cook this stuff up earlier in my pregnancy.”
“That’s okay, honey,” Griffin says. “You can still drink the NA beer for your next four pregnancies.”
Everyone roars except for Audrey, who looks like she might punch Griffin in the nose for suggesting it.
I take a bite of excellently seasoned fish and then pull the stopper out of beer number one. “This is an oatmeal stout. Let’s see what you all think.” May gets the first taste. I pour some into one of the tiny cups and say, “Now be honest. Griff and I can take it.”
“Mmm!” she says immediately, because she’s a loyal person. “I love it!”
Walking around the table is the best way to do this, so I circle the room pouring taster’s portions of the new beer. It took Griffin and I thirty small batches to get something we actually wanted to drink. And then thirty more to zero in on three different ones that we felt were worthy.
God, I hope this isn’t a miserable flop. But if it is, I’ll still have a girl who loves me and a bar that’s thriving.
That’s enough for any man. It really ought to be.
The table is quiet as everyone tastes the beer I’ve poured.
“It’s…chocolatey,” Audrey says.
“In a good way?” I ask, and she smiles.
“I’m getting…plummy notes. Or fig, maybe,” Ruth says.
“Nice texture,” Dylan adds.
“I just taste beer.” Grandpa sniffs. “But it’s damn good.”
Grandpa Shipley never butters anyone up, so I’m feeling pretty good about his review.
“It’s great, Alec,” Jude Nickel says from the other end of the table. “Then again, I haven’t had real beer in five years. So I don’t know if my opinion counts.”
“Totally counts!” Griffin says with a smile. “Your opinion probably counts the most.”
I sit down in my chair to eat some of the exquisite food May has put on my plate. Pea tendrils. Who knew? Beneath the table, she sets a hand on my knee. When I glance at her, she gives me a happy smile. “Want me to pour the next one?”
“That’d be great.” I reach under my seat and pull out our India Pale Ale. “This one should taste totally different.”
May stands up and does the honors, and I watch everyone’s faces as they taste.
“I like this one better,” Audrey says. “It’s more aggressive.”
“And you do enjoy a bossy man,” Griffin teases.
“No.” She sniffs. “But a bossy beer is nice.”
“Tough call,” Jude says. “I think the oatmeal stout is more convincing.”
“Would you order it in a bar?” I ask him.
“Heck yeah. I could become an NA beer drinker for these. Right now I just order soda.”
Jude is my perfect customer—a non-drinker who hasn’t discovered that good NA beer is possible.
I eat everything on my plate, and then serve a third beer—a porter. And I can’t help but feel like it’s all coming together. “Do you all mind if I share some news?” I ask as the optimism bubbles up inside me.
“Besides my granddaughter going to live with you in sin?” Grandpa asks.
“Grandpa, nobody says that anymore,” Griff says. The man actually defends me lately. I don’t even know what to think about that.
“You said that about ‘speakeasy,’ too, and now you and that young fella named a new place after it.”
Sometimes it’s pretty hard to argue with Grandpa.
“But go ahead, young fella,” he says. “Make yer speech.”
I clear my throat. “We picked a date to open the Speakeasy. Mark your calendars because we’re starting with a private party on the third of May. We’re open to the public the following night.”
“That’s soon,” Ruth says. “Are you worried?”
“Of course,” I admit. “A hundred things could go wrong to delay it. But you gotta have a goal. And the contractors haven’t hit any major snags yet. So…” I shrug. “The biggest benefit to being a half-assed businessman is not sweating the small stuff.”
Griffin cracks a smile. “Never change, Alec.”
“Not really sure I could.” I smile at him. “Anyway, I have a lot to celebrate. It’s been really fun testing this NA beer product and planning the Speakeasy with Griff and Lyle.”
I don’t mention Otto, because he’s less fun. But that part has been fine, I guess. We haven’t killed each other yet.
“And May has done so much to help me and to convince me that all the things I want are possible.” I give her a big, cheesy smile. “She’s the best girl I ever met. Three snaps in the shape of beautiful girl.”
I snap my fingers and May rolls her eyes.
“So on this momentous occasion, I thought I’d tell you my favorite guy-walks-into-a-bar joke ever.”
“This will be good,” Dylan says.
“It actually might not be,” May teases me.
“So, a mushroom walks into a bar,” I say.
“A mushroom?” Grandpa protests. “How does it do that, exactly?”
“Just listen, Grandpa,” May coaches.
“The bartender says, ‘We don’t serve your kind.’”
“I think I’ve heard this one,” my sister says. “Can I have more of the IPA?”
It’s a tough crowd here on a Thursday. I pass Zara the jug of ale and try to continue. “He replies, ‘Why not? I don’t take up mushroom…”
Everyone laughs.
But I’m not done. “So the bartender says—”
“Omigod,” Audrey yelps, setting down her fork. “I think my water just broke!”
My first thought is, No, that’s not how it goes.
Then I realize that Griffin has leapt out of his chair. “Let’s go to the hospital,” he says. “Is your suitcase in the truck?”
“Take a breath, honey,” Ruth says. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I don’t know if you’ll still think so when you see the pad on this chair,” Audrey says shakily.
Audrey Shipley went into labor in the middle of my mushroom joke. I can’t believe it. I think I’m destined never to finish it.
Griff eases Audrey off her chair. “You doing okay?”
“Sure,” she says, and then inhales suddenly. “So that’s what contractions feel like.”
“Breathe,” Zara says. “You’ve probably been contracting all day. But after your water breaks, you really feel it.”
“Oh, goody,” the very pregnant woman says, easing herself out of the chair. “Well, guys. The next time I see you, it will be
with a baby.”
“I’m not ready to be a great-grandpa,” Grandpa says. “That sounds so flipping old. I think I need a piece of pie to console myself.”
Everyone wishes Audrey good luck as she takes Griffin’s hand and begins to ease herself toward the door.
“Do you have any beer tasting notes for me at least?” I tease. “Before you deliver this kid?”
Griffin scowls at me, but by now I’m used to it.
“I’ll follow you to the hospital in an hour,” Ruth says. “Is there anything you need from the bungalow that you don’t have?”
“I don’t think so,” Audrey says, wide-eyed. She moves carefully.
“You should sit on some towels in the truck,” Zara offers. “Trust me on this.”
“I’ll get ’em!” Dylan says, bounding out of the room.
Griff and Audrey make their way out of the house and drive away. The rest of us nibble a little more dinner and then clean everything up quickly so that Ruth can go to Montpelier whenever she wants to.
“I could go with you, Mom,” May volunteers.
“That is nice of you, sweetie, but go and take your things to Alec’s. The baby won’t show up until tomorrow, probably.”
May and I take this advice. We carry her packed possessions out of the TV room and out to my truck and load them up.
“No garbage bags this time,” she says.
“Because we’re so classy,” I say, closing the tailgate on her boxes of books.
We get into the truck and I start ’er up. “Do I get to hear how that joke ends?” May asks while the engine warms.
“Oh, sure. The bartender repeats that he doesn’t serve mushrooms. And the mushroom says, ‘Why not? I’m a fun-gi.’”
May’s beautiful brown eyes just blink at me in the darkness for a second. Then she bursts out laughing.
“It’s a good one, right?”
She hangs her head and her shoulders shake. “No and yes. It’s a crap joke. But you are a fun guy.”
“The funnest,” I agree. “Let’s go home and I’ll show you just how fun.”
We do that. But first we have to kiss for a couple of minutes right there in the driveway. Because we’ve got a good thing going and we don’t see any need to change.
* * *
Thank you!
Need more of the True North series? You can read them in any order. Don’t miss Bittersweet (Griffin and Audrey) Steadfast (Jude and Sophie) Keepsake (Lark and Zach) and Bountiful (Zara and Dave.)
Hear about all the latest books and discounts first! Join Sarina’s mailing list!
Also by Sarina Bowen
TRUE NORTH
Bittersweet
Steadfast
Keepsake
Bountiful
Speakeasy
THE IVY YEARS
The Year We Fell Down #1
The Year We Hid Away #2
Blonde Date #2.5
The Understatement of the Year #3
The Shameless Hour #4
The Fifteenth Minute #5
GRAVITY
Coming In From the Cold #1
Falling From the Sky #2
Shooting for the Stars #3
HELLO GOODBYE
Goodbye Paradise
Hello Forever
THE BROOKLYN BRUISERS
Rookie Move
Hard Hitter
Pipe Dreams
Brooklynaire
With Elle Kennedy
GOOD BOY by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
STAY by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
HIM by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy
US by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy
With Tanya Eby
Man Hands
Man Card
With Sarah Mayberry
Temporary
Copyright © 2018 by Sarina Bowen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover design by Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations.
Cover photo by David Lopez / Perpis.
Ebook ISBN 978-1-942444-59-6.
Sarina Bowen, Speakeasy
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends