Page 93 of Call It Serendipity

Tad’s low whistle of appreciation echoes through the room as he approaches a brewing tank. “This place is really laid out. How’d the owner get this far and not open?”

“According to the trustees, he defaulted on his loan.”

“No one in this town wanted to jump in as an investor at that point?”

I shake my head. “Surprising, right? Ellicottville is unique in that it’s extremely small—technically a village—but there’s some real money in it. As far as my research hints at, its people coming in for the ski resort and golf course. A second-home-to-getaway situation. But the word didn’t get out to that crowd.”

“Damn shame. This is one hell of a brewery.”

A hum of agreement sounds deep in my throat. It would be perfect for someone ready to create something. Not a man that’s a pawn for his father.

“And when is the next meeting with the trustees?” he asks, turning back to face me.

“Tuesday.”

“You ready?” His mouth twitches because he already knows the answer to that. I’ve learned the ordinances, history, and social determinants of Ellicottville better than most locals.

“As ready as I can be. Turned the village archives back in to the clerk yesterday.” I smile thinking of the way Laurie made me sit in her office while she checked over each book with an eagle eye.

He turns back to do one more pass through the brewery. His mouth pressed in a firm line. Then he asks, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

It’s a question I’ve been asking myself on a loop.

“Yeah,” I say with conviction. “I am.”

“And what do you want to do if you win?”

“Not a damn clue.”

“Alright.” He nods decidedly. “I’m in.”

52

As fast as my paintings came together, the winter season creeps in. Fall isn’t over yet, but it always feels like the end when Holiday Valley has their opening day of ski season.

It’s bittersweet, seeing the harvest themed flags coming down from the lamp posts and the flags with skier silhouettes going up. But I’m trying to embrace change, letting the moments come as they may.

Especially with the change coming this week.

I lean my elbow on the bar as Smashing Pumpkins serenade the moment and continue to watch Laurie change out the lamp post pendants. It’s not until I feel a tap on my shoulder that I suspect I’m no longer alone.

Turning away from Dina’s front window, I find Claire standing over me. She’s in her ski instructor tee and the teal spandex leggings that she sports under her snow pants. Yes, it’s officially ski season.

Which is why we are meeting for lunch at Dina’s in the middle of a weekday afternoon—a tradition we started the year she got the job at Holiday Valley.

“Hey, you’re here,” she says. At least I think so as I read her lips, because I have my CD Walkman out.

“Hi.” I pause Smashing Pumpkins and remove my headphones. “Where’d you come from?”

She jabs a finger over her shoulder. “Back entrance.”

“How were morning lessons?”

She drops onto the stool beside me and subtly flicks her hand to get the bartender’s attention. “They were sparse, but you know how it goes before Christmas.” Grabbing menus from the bar, she turns to pass me one when her mouth falls open in surprise.

Reaching out to clutch my arm, she whispers. “You are not going to believe this. Turn around slowly and prepare to witness the newest member of my grandmother’s knitting club.”

I try to subtly peek over my shoulder as Alice, Agatha and Faye enter. The three women that have always pronounced themselves as a formal club. And standing right alongside them, holding a tote overflowing with yarn, is my mother.