Love in a Nutshell

  “My house is completely filled with bees, isn’t it?”

  Matt nodded. “Maybe not completely filled. Some of the space is taken up with honey. I’m sure it will all be gone by the time we get back. Do you know what all this is costing? Are you sure you don’t…”

  “I know exactly what I’m doing. Just drive.”

  As Matt started down the road, Kate ran a mental tabulation of the damage and its cost. Two thousand to fix the leaky plumbing. Two thousand to fix the bathroom tile. Three thousand for the mold cleanup and another five thousand to replace the drywall and damaged floor. She wasn’t sure how much bee removal cost. And she owed Matt at least $9,000 on the mortgage. If she didn’t get the house fixed by Christmas, her parents were turning it over to Matt, and if she didn’t get Matt paid by Thanksgiving, he was going to foreclose.

  Matt sensed her thoughts and patted her leg with one hand. “Remember. Just one foot after the other.”

  Good advice, she thought. Panic was counterproductive.

  “Run me through what we need to get done once we’re in Royal Oak,” Kate said. “I’ve already double-checked the boxes of merchandise and found one of those old-fashioned thingies to run credit card slips through. You don’t want to lose the credit sales. And I really think we should have brought the hoodies along with the tees. It’s autumn, after all.”

  Matt said nothing, but handed her a travel mug filled with coffee.

  What’s next?” Kate asked.

  “You tell me,” Matt said. “You’re my snoop. Anything new on that front?”

  “Not a thing. Taproom work is harder than I thought. Servers are too busy to be good snoops. I did notice something about your menu, though. Who put it together?”

  Matt lifted his mug from its holder. “I worked with a friend who used to be a regional manager for an upper-end chain.”

  “A woman?”

  He took a swallow of coffee. “Yes, why?”

  “Did you date her and dump her?”

  Matt’s eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. “No.”

  “You must have ticked her off, at least. You have no fresh vegetables anywhere on your menu, aside from your iceberg wedge smothered in blue cheese dressing. Oh, and the mango poppy seed coleslaw, but don’t get me started on that.”

  “No one else has complained.”

  “The customers who care the most are women—not your standard breed of beer lovers. And those women would eat fish bait if it gave them a chance at contact with you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your lunchtime fan club. They know your schedule better than you do. Haven’t you noticed the daily lineup?”

  “I see them. They’re nice people, but I’m not interested. And it’s no big deal. Don’t you see the way men look at you?”

  Kate laughed. “No. I’m pretty pragmatic about my looks.”

  “And they are?”

  “I don’t know.… Kind of cute, I guess.”

  Matt glanced over at her.

  “You’re beautiful. And if you’ve missed men checking you out, I’ll start letting you know when it happens. Like now. The more we’re together, the harder it is for me to keep my hands off you.”

  Desire rushed through Kate’s belly and she admitted to herself that she didn’t want Matt to keep his hands off her. She took a beat to steady her voice. “Getting back to the vegetables. Do you have something against them?”

  “No, in fact I like vegetables. Especially French fries.”

  She let that sit for a couple of miles and moved on to another topic. “You can never go home again.… Any idea who said that?” Kate asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, I’m thinking it’s true. You can’t.”

  “Maybe for that unnamed person,” Matt said. “But I do it every day. In fact, except for a short break long ago, I haven’t left.”

  “Exactly. But I did, and now I’m returning. Today.”

  “And?”

  “The magazine I used to work for will be there,” she said. “The places I used to go will be there, and life will have rolled on without me. I’m going to be like a ghost.”

  “You look real to me.”

  Kate smiled. “But not to them.”

  Matt shook his head. “Kate, you’ve been in Keene’s Harbor, not Brigadoon or whatever. You’ve made friends, found a job, even brewed up a little trouble, so it seems to me, you’re doing great.”

  “The guy who took my job, he’s got my office. And then there’s Shayla the Homewrecker.”

  “Who?”

  Kate gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “The woman my ex ran off with. She has my old bed, my ex, and even my dog. They all have lives, and I’ve been in a holding pattern. I don’t have a clue what to do next.”

  He cut his eyes to her. “I’d suggest switching to decaf.”

  Kate realized she’d been jiggling her left foot at close to the speed of light.

  “Kate, seriously, it’s all going to be fine.”

  “But how can you say that? How do you know?”

  “Experience, for one. And two, you’re not the kind of woman to let opportunity pass you by. But that doesn’t mean you need to dwell on things. How about you look at your time in Keene’s Harbor as a gift? How about you slow down and appreciate the present? The best I can figure, the future takes care of itself.”

  “Nice philosophy, but I’ve seen how hard you work.”

  “I’m not saying I don’t.”

  “I need a plan,” she said.

  He looked her way again. “Eventually you do, but not right now. There are no rules. There aren’t any Plan Police waiting to nab you. Give yourself a break.”

  “Hmm,” Kate said, liking the thought. No plan. She could live with that. And truth was, she didn’t miss her old bed or her old job or her ex, but there was a hole in her heart for her dog. She desperately missed her dog.

  * * *

  MATT STEPPED back and took a look at the Depot Brewing Company booth. It was, as it should be, perfect. He and the road crew had set it up enough times in the past. It had taken some adjusting—and another table—to create Kate’s merchandise area, but Matt considered it effort well spent. He should have started doing this sooner.

  He also wished at least a couple of his sisters could be here, but understood why they weren’t. The choice between a new nephew to pamper and working a beer festival was a no-brainer. He’d put in his share of time admiring baby Todd, too.

  Harley stood beside Matt, checking out the booth. “Thirty minutes before the doors open,” he said. “You’ve done good, son.”

  Matt smiled at his friend, who had as big a heart as he did a skinny body. When Matt had been a kid, he’d always mixed up Harley with the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz.

  “I couldn’t do it without you. Any of it.” And Matt meant it. After Matt’s dad had booted him from the hardware store for an admittedly bad attitude, Harley had given him a job. He had also given Matt loans and advice when he’d opened the microbrewery. Matt had been mad at his dad at the time, but now he realized his dad had done it to help him spread his wings.

  “Glad to help.” Harley stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled for Junior, who was flirting it up with a pair of pretty hot-looking beer pourers a couple of booths down.

  Junior gave Harley a wave.

  “Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go grab Junior,” Harley said. “We need to check out that spread of fancy finger foods before we’re trapped behind the booth. I think I saw shrimp.”

  Matt could have pointed out that the food was intended for the party guests, and not Harley and Junior, but his friend was among the ranks of old dogs who refused to be retrained.

  After they’d taken off, Matt headed toward Kate, who was putting her finishing touches on the merchandise table. Just outside of Keene’s Harbor she’d lapsed into silence. He’d understood … or thought he had. She had a lot on her mind, and she was going to process it in wha
tever way worked best for her. It was nice to feel comfortable and relaxed with a woman, even in a mostly silent four-hour car ride. He’d just turned on the music and moved into his zone.

  He looked down at Kate’s table. “How’s it going over here?”

  “Almost done.” She was concentrating on adjusting a pile of T-shirts. “I’m using the ‘stack ’em high and watch them fly’ approach.”

  “It’s your turf. Arrange it however you want. We should be getting our first takers in about half an hour.” He held out his hand. “Come on, let’s take a look around before the place opens for business.”

  Kate surveyed the booths lining one of the two long aisles that had been set up in the cavernous building. “I had no idea there were so many microbrewers.”

  “More every day,” Matt said. “But it’s like any other business. Right now, it’s surfing a high, but it will level out again in a couple of years. Only the best will be commercial concerns, and the others will go back to home brewing, if they really have a passion for it, or just move on to the next fad.”

  The walk was a slow one. He’d been in the business long enough that he knew most of the exhibitors.

  Between booths, Kate asked, “What are you, some kind of cult hero? I don’t think there’s a single person here who doesn’t know you or want to know you.”

  “It’s not that big a deal. We don’t land under the same roof all that often, so when we do, we talk.”

  Matt stared into the crowd of people in front of him and saw that Chet Orowski was heading his way. Matt already knew through the grapevine that Chet hadn’t been able to find any other investors.

  Orowski stopped a couple feet in front of Matt, and Matt extended his hand in greeting, thinking this was as good a time as any to re-establish a cordial relationship. “Chet, it’s good to see you.”

  Chet slapped Matt’s hand away and poked him in the chest. “Culhane, you’re a crook and a liar.”

  Matt stood his ground, waiting for Chet to finish. “Do you really want to do this here?”

  Chet’s face was flushed and his hands were fisted. “You bet I do.” His pupils danced around his eyes like Mexican jumping beans and his voice got louder. “If I’m going to go down, it’s going to be in a friggin’ blaze of glory. I’m gonna stand behind my booth and tell everyone who will listen what a bastard you are.”

  Matt glanced out of the corner of his eye at the booths to his left. Yup, spectators were already lining up.

  “And this is why you drove all the way from Traverse City and rented a booth in Royal Oak?”

  If the guy was going to slander him, he could have done it in a much more cost-effective fashion, Matt thought. Chet really wasn’t much of a businessman.

  “Yes. No. I also did it to look for a partner. Someone honest. Someone who follows through.” He glared at Kate. “Someone who doesn’t waste all his time chasing after tail.”

  Kate stuffed her hands onto her hips, narrowed her eyes, and leaned into Chet’s personal space. “Excuse me?”

  Matt clamped his hand on Chet’s shoulder. To everyone but Chet it would look like a friendly gesture. Only Chet needed to know that this was a subtle warning of what could follow if he didn’t tone it down.

  “Now, Chet,” Matt said. “We’re all friends in this place, right?”

  Chet went silent.

  Matt made his warning marginally less subtle. “Right?”

  Chet squirmed but Matt’s grip on him stayed firm.

  “Right,” Chet gasped.

  “And when we’re among friends, we want everyone to have a good time, don’t you think?”

  Chet nodded enthusiastically, though Matt was pretty sure he’d spotted sweat popping out on the guy’s forehead.

  “Kate, here, is one of my friends, which would make her one of your friends by extension. You don’t want to talk about a friend the way you just did about Kate, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So how about you apologize to Kate—and to me, if you feel like it—and then we all get on with what’s going to be a very good beer festival? After all, do good things and they come back to you.”

  “I—” Chet cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

  The words had been delivered without a helluva lot of sincerity, but Matt had no interest in pushing this scene a second longer than he had to. He released Chet’s shoulder, then held out his right hand again.

  This time, Chet did as he should have to begin with. He shook Matt’s hand.

  “No hard feelings,” Matt said. At least not on his side. He wasn’t going to speculate on Chet’s.

  Kate had been called a lot of things in her life: stubborn, nosy, and even some less nice stuff by her ex. But never had she been called tail.

  She glared over her shoulder at Chet as Matt led her away. In a perfect world, where she was all-powerful and could smite the bad guys at will, she’d still be back there giving Chet a new perspective on life.

  Matt took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Don’t let him tick you off. He’s not worth it. Or if it would make you feel better, how about if later I lure him to the parking lot and you can give him a fat lip?”

  Kate smiled in spite of herself. “I just might take you up on that.”

  He laughed. “I guess I should consider my audience when I’m joking around.”

  “I promise I won’t hold you to your offer,” she said. But she did hold his hand almost all the way back to the Depot booth, where she moved on to finish up her merchandise fluffing. And just in time, too.

  Kate could time down to the second when cocktail hour was starting in Royal Oak’s bars by the flood of private tasting guests into Farmers’ Market. She saw plenty of familiar faces in the crowd. Back when she’d been at Detroit Monthly, she’d always gone out with coworkers for cocktails. Richard had worked late every Friday. Or so he’d claimed.

  As people streamed by, she exchanged waves and greetings with casual friends. It felt good to see them, and that scared emptiness she’d been anticipating never materialized. She was no ghost; she was a new and improved version of Kate.

  She looked past the guys checking out the Depot baseball caps and locomotive bottle openers and on to Matt, who was giving one awesome beer spiel. He was smart and funny, and his crowd was eating it up. Except one person. The guy was busy playing with his BlackBerry in exactly the same way that had made her insane from the day he’d bought the thing.

  Richard.

  Her ex’s black hair was absurdly long, but his perpetual slight frown, English tweed jacket, khakis, and ever-so-retro loafers were just the same.

  Kate felt trapped. Fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and flight didn’t look to be a viable option. Running out of the building wouldn’t be very subtle, and she’d have to slip past him unnoticed to pull it off, anyway. Maybe Richard would drift off without seeing her.

  She automatically made change for a guy who’d decided to buy ten bottle openers to give as family Christmas gifts. Somehow she didn’t think Grandma was going to plotz with gratitude, but Kate wasn’t about to stop the dude. After he was gone, she ducked under the table to grab more stock. She briefly considered hiding, except the space was a little tight and dark for her taste. And no doubt Matt would come looking for her. She’d rather not explain the whole ex thing to him.

  Kate rose, and Richard spotted her. She wished she’d gone for full makeup instead of her usual mascara and lip gloss. It never hurt to look fabulous when seeing the ex for the first time since moving out of the marital home. But what she lacked in cosmetics, she could make up for in attitude. If Matt could talk nicely to Chet, she could do it with Richard.

  Maybe.

  Kate rounded the merchandise table and extended her hand. “Richard.”

  “Kate.” His handshake was on the limp side, but at least he’d given it a shot.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. “You’re not a beer drinker.”

  “This is a charity functi
on that a client supports. I have to make a showing. But I’ll say, you can’t be nearly as surprised as I am. I’d heard you’d lost your job and had to move in with your parents.”

  “I have a job,” she said.

  “So I see. And Larry and Barb are well?”

  “They’re fine, I’m sure. They’re at the Naples house until May, and I’m staying at The Nutshell.”

  “Really? The Nutshell? That must be interesting.”

  To anyone else, his comment would have sounded positive and sincere. Kate, however, knew how much he’d disliked both The Nutshell and Keene’s Harbor. And she felt very protective of both.

  Kate smiled. “It’s wonderful.”

  “Really? Living in your parents’ cottage and working in a brewery?” He glanced at his phone. “That’s a far cry from what you used to do.”

  Kate wondered if Shayla was texting him, just as she had when Kate had been his wife. Water under the bridge, Kate thought. Shayla could text him all she wanted now. Kate had loved Richard, but his affair had taught her something. She couldn’t be the person she was meant to be when she was with someone she couldn’t trust. If she ever decided to marry another man, it would definitely be someone like Matt—someone who made her feel more herself than she did alone.

  “I like it in Keene’s Harbor. I always did,” she said. “I’m happy there.”

  “How nice.”

  Funny thing, but he didn’t look very happy about her being happy.

  “So can I tell you a little about our beer?” she asked, knowing this would roust snobby anti-brew Richard.

  “No thanks,” he said. “I should move along.”

  Not quickly enough, she thought as he stepped off.

  Then he turned back. “Oh, I forgot to mention … We had to give Stella away.”

  THIRTEEN

  Kate felt as though some vital connection in her brain had just snapped. “Would you mind repeating that?”

  A faint little smile was forming on Richard’s usually passive face. “We had to give Stella away.”

  Stella had been their baby. They’d spoiled her like mad. When they’d separated, leaving her had been wretched for Kate, far more painful than leaving Richard. Stella had been faithful.