CALDER
Several minutes later, I pull into the parking lot at Jules Creek. The anger from my short discussion with Finn Sterling is fading, but his comment about Meredith isn’t forgotten. Do I barge in and ask her? Wait for her to tell me? Or was Finn messing with me because I insulted him and his department? The last option makes the most sense.
The barn towers over me when I walk in. Bea’s car is parked next to Meredith’s. Inside, I drop the food and drinks on the bar counter. Meredith’s in front of the supply shelves, stacking rye malt bags from a cart. I slide my hands around her hips and drop a kiss into her hair.
She giggles. “You came just in time. I need to move two more bags.”
It takes me seconds to toss the fifty-pound bags onto the stack.
“Ugh, thank you. You make it look so easy.” She wheels the cart back to its place by the overhead door.
“Mind if I ask Bea to join us?” I bought extra food to stock the fridge, and my gut tells me this isn’t the time to interrogate Meredith about her plans when I want them to be with me.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
We walk down the hallway together. She veers off for the bathroom, and I pop into Bea’s office.
“Cold fried chicken and root beer?” I ask.
She slides her horn-rimmed glasses down her nose. “Now, that’s an offer I can’t refuse. I’m almost done with an order, then I’ll be out.”
“Whenever you’re ready. I’ll get it set up.”
I grab the stash of paper plates and napkins and set a short four-top table for us to eat at. I hear their voices and the whisper of Bea’s walker moments before they appear. Meredith is laughing, and Bea is beaming.
The sight warms my goddamn heart, and it’s something I haven’t felt in years—until I returned home. Then I got a hug from Carlos, caught up with Esme at the funeral, and felt true warmth at being around Bea. She and Meredith have obviously become close.
“Oh, say.” Bea shuffles to the table and sits, arranging her walker beside her. “I suppose I should tell all of you, but I’ll say it now since this is a work lunch. One of our biggest retailers just sent notice they’re not going to stock Jules Creek anymore.”
Meredith tenses but takes her seat, and I take the spot across from Bea.
“Why?” I don’t need her answer. Dad’s marketing plan was to be a local brewery. He made connections and networked, but now he’s gone, people aren’t beholden to maintain the relationship.
“Too many local breweries to stock, limited shelf space, yada, yada, yada. It’s been happening more, honestly.” She fiddles with the glasses hanging around her neck. “And another vendor just emailed about the increased pricing for next quarter for the cans we use.” She gives me and Meredith a sad smile. “But why do I feel like that’s going to be a moot point?”
Meredith doesn’t need to take this one. “A decision hasn’t been officially made yet.”
Bea glances between the two of us, her lips in a line, like she knows Meredith and I are at odds over this. “I see. Well, regardless, I guess I was thinking it’s time to officially retire.” She drops the glasses to hang from their chain. “It’s a shame, though. I’ve been waiting for the dream team to run this place.” She glances around, fondness etching into her features. “I saw it so clearly. You taking the helm here, Landry in the saddle at Crossroads, and Bowen carving a place for it all to last far into the future.” She pats Meredith’s hands. “Of course, I assumed you’d be taken care of.”
Meredith’s eyes are as big as saucers. Hell, is she going to cry? I grasp for a redirection.
“I don’t think Bowen would like to hear his role in your fantasy was to be second-in-command at both places.”
Her smile is quick. “You all are really leaving?”
“Yeah,” I say gruffly. There’s no getting out of this discussion.
Bea’s gaze bounces between us once again, and tension rides through me. I’m ready for her to ask something personal about us. If I’m leaving, what about me and Meredith? Isn’t that something I want the answer to as well?
“What about the street fair?” she asks instead.
I hand Meredith the container of chicken. That’s a damn good question. “Regardless, I’m sure we’ll all agree that’s gotta happen.”
Relief crosses Meredith’s face. “Yes, it really should. We have too much product, and it’s such a lucrative weekend.”
Should I read more into the way Meredith reacted? She’s the best choice to run the street fair. If she stays for that…will she ever leave? No matter what, I’ll miss it. I’ll also miss her amazing tits in that ugly blue polo, smiling and handing out samples, her enthusiasm for craft brew oozing out of her.
Bea picks a drumstick out of the chicken container. “I hope another twenty years doesn’t go by before I see those handsome Cross faces.”
