Page 103 of Fall is Brewing

Lena smiles to herself but wisely says nothing.

I bring the glass to my nose first, breathing in slow and deep before taking a careful sip. The cider unfolds differently this time.

The bright Honeycrisp still arrives first, cheerful and familiar, but now the Kingston Black lingers beneath it, grounding it with something richer. Something more complex. It doesn't replace the Hartley blend.

It makes it... braver. I blink, mulling that over. "Huh."

June pauses mid-cap. "Good huh? Or bad huh?"

After I take another sip, a slow smile tugs at the corner of my mouth despite everything. "Definitely a good huh."

Before either of them can ask another question, the old sliding barn door groans open with its familiar protest.

A gust of cool evening air rolls through the room carrying the scent of damp earth, woodsmoke, and apples warming in the last of the day's sunshine.

Grandpa steps inside, brushing bits of hay from his flannel before setting his weathered cap on a nearby barrel. His sharp green eyes sweep across the room in one practiced glance.

The half-eaten pizza.

The open notebook.

The thirty-something tasting glasses littering the table.

The three of us standing in complete silence.

He scratches thoughtfully at the side of his jaw. "Well now," he says. "I've seen funeral parlors with more laughter."

June points a bottle at him. "That's because somebody around here kissed Brooks Calder."

My head snaps toward her. "June!"

"What?" She shrugs innocently. "He was going to find out eventually."

“Was he?” Lena mutters, hiding her mouth behind her tasting glass.

Grandpa's eyebrows climb nearly to his hairline. He looks at me. Then at Lena. Then back at me. A slow grin spreads beneath his silver mustache. "Well," he says. "I'll be damned."

I groan, covering my face with both hands. "Can everyone please stop reacting like I announced I'm eloping with a circus performer?"

"I don't know," Grandpa says, wandering farther into the barn. "Depending on the circus performer, that might've caused less commotion."

Even June laughs at that.

Grandpa reaches for one of the tasting glasses, takes a thoughtful sip, then hums low in his throat. "This one's close."

"It is?"

"Mmm." He swirls the cider again before setting the glass down. "But nobody bottles cider with a face like that."

His eyes meet mine as he folds his arms across his chest. "Now… Who wants to tell an old man why the girl who usually smiles in a cider barn looks like somebody just canceled autumn?"

Before I can stop them, June and Lena both start talking. At the same time.

"Not only did they kiss⁠—"

"But then she found a scrapbook⁠—"

"They knew each other as kids⁠—"