“Act like I’m a snob or whatever. I’m not.”
“You make it very, very obvious you don’t want to be here.”
Two sips of winceworthy coffee were not enough caffeine for her to argue with Evie, but Gwen couldn’t let that go. “You’re never here, either.”
Evie shrugged. “But you’re not here because you don’t want to behere. I’m not here because I want to be so many other places. There’s a difference.”
“No, there isn’t. I’m not here because I want to be in Vermont. You want to be wherever you were, taking pictures of ponies.” She took another sip of her coffee and then sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, Evie. Neither of us wants to spend who-knows-how-long in this town, but we don’t have any choice. Taking it out on each other isn’t going to make the time go by any faster.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, either.”
For the first time, Gwen realized Evie was scrolling on her phone—which was pretty typical for her—but she also had a notebook next to her juice glass, which was different. “What are you doing?”
Evie shrugged one shoulder. “Looking at the social media feeds for some of the other small breweries in the state. Seeing what they’re doing right and what they could be doing better.”
“I guess social media will be a thing for us eventually.” She wasn’t a big fan, personally. It was harder for her to write when readers had immediate access to her.
“We should be doing it already,” Evie said. “Glimpses and teases and whetting their appetites for new brews to try and a fun place to hang out. Getting people excited about it is better than just ‘oh hey, we’re open now’ because they’ll talk about it and share and getotherpeople excited.”
Gwen followed her sister’s social media accounts—trying not to betooenvious of Evie’s adventures and the gorgeous places she posted pictures from—and she had to admit her sister had a knack for it. She certainly knew more about it than the rest of them. Gwen posted pictures that inspired her or gave glimpses into her process and life so readers didn’t forget her between books, but it wasn’t specifically product marketing and she did the bare minimum.
“If you have ideas for it, you should start,” Gwen said, and Evie looked surprised. “I think the fact nobody brought it up at all last night and you’re already making notes proves you’re the right woman for the job.”
“Thanks.”
“And you’re really good at it.”
Evie’s face softened and she gave Gwen a warm smile. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
Gwen drank her coffee and Evie sipped her juice for a few minutes, until the next question popped into Gwen’s head. “Has anybody mentioned a name at all? For the brewery, I mean?”
“I don’t think so. We need to find out if Dad or Lane had to put something on the paperwork. If we don’t have a name yet, we need to do that next because we need a name to start social media accounts, and we’ll need a logo for that, and for the sign and stickers.”
“Stickers? You mean labels?”
“No, stickers. People who go around to different breweries like to collect stickers.”
“Oh.” She was definitely out of her depth here. “We should ask Lane.”
Evie wrinkled her nose. “I thinkyoushould ask Lane.”
“I honestly didn’t know, by the way. That he’s who Dad went into business with. I asked once and, thinking back, I didn’t get a straight answer. I assumed it was somebody he’d met who I didn’t know and I was busy and I guess I just didn’t ask again.”
“Same here. I wish Dad had told me, though. I would have had timeawayfrom here to process it and come to terms with it. Instead, I got blindsided.” She set her phone down and folded her arms. “I’ll get over it. I have to. But...it’s not even so much that it’s my ex-husband but more that Dad kept that secret from me. And Mom and Mal went along with it. Even after he died, I mean.”
“I’m guessing Mom has had too many emotions on her plate to add a potential falling-out with you, and Mal... I don’t know.” That one was tougher because Mallory was Evie’s sister. She should have told her. “She probably didn’t want to add the two of you arguing onto Mom’s plate, either.”
Evie shrugged a shoulder. “Whatever. It’s done.”
“You want to go to the store with me?” Gwen asked, surprising herself with the invitation. And Evie, too, judging by the way her eyebrows arched. “We need to get out of this house, even for just an hour.”
“I’m in.”
Two hours later, they had a bunch of stuff they probably didn’t need—they definitely didn’t need the Oreos or party-size bag of Doritos—but they were enjoying the shopping and Gwen thought this was the most fun she’d had with Evie in a long time. It was a simple thing, but it felt good.
Then they turned a corner and Evie almost ran straight into Mrs. Dorsey with the shopping cart. Gwen braced herself as recognition dawned on the woman’s face and her overly drawn eyebrows reached for her dyed-black hairline.
“Gwen Sutton,” she said, her voice rough with age and decades of smoking. “I heard you were back.”
