Page 99 of Fall is Brewing

And again.

By the time June and Lena wander into the cider barn carrying two steaming pizza boxes and a paper bag dotted with grease from Dotty's Bakery, I've already filled two notebook pages with ratios.

The heavy wooden door groans on its hinges before banging softly against the wall behind them, letting in a gust of cool air that chases through the room, carrying the scent of leaves and distant woodsmoke.

June stops short the second she takes in the workbench.

Glasses are everywhere.

Tiny tasting pours in neat rows. Half-filled notebooks. Pencils scattered between pipettes. Sticky notes clinging to the edge of barrels. It looks less like a cider barn and more like a chemistry lab run by someone who hasn't slept in weeks.

June slowly sets the pizza boxes on the workbench and slips one hand onto her hip. "Okay..." she says carefully. "Who died? Because the only explanation for drinking this much is the death of a loved one."

I don't even bother looking up as I scribble another note beside Blend Thirty-Eight. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lena walks farther into the room, weaving between barrels until she reaches the table. She leans over, studying the dizzying lineup of tasting glasses before quietly counting under her breath.

"...Thirty-six... thirty-seven..." Her eyes widen. "There are thirty-eight glasses here."

"Mm-hmm."

I finally glance up, lifting one shoulder in a shrug before reaching for another pipette. "I poured them."

“Well…” June exchanges a concerned look with Lena. “How about a pizza break?”

I shake my head. “There’s no time. I need to get these bottled for the competition tomorrow and have enough inventory ready to sell at the table if we win.”

Lena’s hand falls softly onto mine. “When you win.”

I shake my head because for the first time in my life here at Hartley, I don’t feel confident. “If,” I say quietly.

There’s a few seconds of silence before Lena clears her throat. "So you've, uh, been here awhile, then?”

"I got distracted."

"Willa." June folds her arms, completely unconvinced. "This isn't distracted." She gestures broadly at the battlefield of cider samples. "This is the kind of thing detectives find in documentaries after the suspect hasn't slept for three days."

A reluctant laugh threatens the corner of my mouth, but I swallow it down as I swirl another sample in its glass. "I'm fine."

Lena reaches into the paper bag and pulls out a warm pumpkin spice donut, tearing it cleanly in half before offering me one piece.

"You've rejected pizza," she says, watching me carefully. "And now you're ignoring donuts. This is serious.”

June gasps theatrically. "She is dying."

I finally take the donut from Lena with an exaggerated sigh and stuff a piece in my mouth. "There, happy?” I ask while chewing.

June points triumphantly at me. "Well, it’s progress. The patient is responding to baked goods."

I pop another piece of the donut in my mouth and my stomach growls in approval. Hm. Maybe I am hungrier than I realize. I reach for the tasting glass again. "Last blend," I murmur more to myself than to anyone else.

I swirl the amber liquid beneath my nose before taking another careful sip.

Bright up front. Honeyed through the middle. Still just a touch too tannic on the finish.

I scribble another note, then shake my head and cross the entire thing out. "Nope,” I mutter. “Not good enough to win.”

June watches me for another beat before sliding onto the stool across from me. The old wood creaks beneath her weight as she reaches over and quietly steals my pencil.