Written in the Stars (18 page)

Taking Care of Business

M
ASON
LOOKED
AROUND
THE
TA
PROOM
FOR
THE
MIL
lionth
time and shoved his fingers through his hair, making the shorter cut stand on end. Or maybe his hair was already standing on end and he didn't know it. Although this was a soft opening, with only close friends and family invited, his stomach decided that it would be fun to do a few flip-­flops along with a few dips and turns along the way. With a groan he reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of Tums. After popping one in his mouth, he grimaced at the chalky taste. He didn't think it was even possible to be this damned nervous. What the hell? He'd fished tournaments with thousands of dollars on the line, racing back to the weigh-­in station with only seconds to spare, and hadn't been this torn up.

Mason looked across the room and spotted Grace behind the bar drying glasses. She, on the other hand, seemed to be as cool as a damned cucumber, humming along to the music, completely in her element. Everything, from the upbeat tunes being piped in through state-­of-­the-­art speakers to the variety of appetizers paired to go with the ales, was perfectly organized and ready to go. And she'd slept like a baby last night, while he'd tossed and turned.

So what was he so uptight about? As if on cue, Grace looked up. Flipping her dish towel over her shoulder, she caught his eye and gave him a reassuring thumbs-­up along with a bright smile.

Mason retuned the gesture, wishing he felt as at ease as Grace appeared. It occurred to him that he could never have pulled this off without her in a million years. When he'd decided to convert the old boathouse into a brewery, all he really thought about was brewing kick-­ass, award-­winning ale. All of this other promo stuff was just beyond him. His family never had to promote Mayfield Marina very much, just an ad here and there or sponsoring local events and Little League baseball teams, so this hoopla wasn't something he'd thought about. In truth, he'd been concentrating on the quality of the beer so much that he hadn't given this evening all that much thought, until, well, pretty much
now
. What had seemed so far in the future was suddenly upon him. The dream he'd been working toward for the past two years was unfolding before his eyes, so what the hell was suddenly his problem?

Mason glanced through the window to the brewery, thinking that was where he'd rather be right now instead of in all this party-­atmosphere crap. Once the taproom was up and running, he'd leave the bartending to Danny and Colby, content to stay behind the scenes for the most part.

But it occurred to Mason that although he'd never been much of a party animal, unlike Danny, at one time he did enjoy the bonfires and gatherings at the marina. But back then he'd had Lauren on his arm and he'd been in a different place, a different frame of mind. But after he'd had to curtail his fishing career, he'd pulled back from everyone, including Lauren. His sullenness hadn't given her the right to cheat on him, but Mason knew that the end of their relationship was partly his own damned fault.

The difference between Lauren and Grace was that Grace had been drawing him out of his broodiness, as she called it. But the cloud that had all but disappeared suddenly hovered above his head without so much as a damned storm warning. Really bad-­ass timing, for damned sure.
Shake it off,
he thought.
Shake it the hell off!

Gracie reached behind the bar, put on a witch's hat, and struck a pose. Although Mason had to admit that she looked cute, he didn't return the second thumbs-­up. Try as he might, the whole Broomstick Brewery still didn't exactly sit well with him, but he'd sort of refused to think about it and stayed in the brewery and out of the taproom. Mason knew that Gracie was right about her creative marketing plan to bring women into the fold. But now that the witch theme was staring him in the face, he felt uncertain.

But when Grace's smile faltered, he felt like an ass. She'd been working her tail off for this night, tirelessly, all the way down to having the flying-­witch logo on napkins and T-­shirts to give away. And while Mason truly appreciated all that she'd done for the brewery, she still drove him crazy with her need to be in control. He wanted to rein her in, but the problem was that he was so completely in love with her that he found more joy in her smiles and laughter than in squashing her ideas, many of which he found a tad out there. One of his continual worries was that his buddies were going to laugh their asses off at the witchcraft thing.

Mason's down-­to-­earth dad had raised his eyebrows at the Broomstick Brewery concept, but his mother was too caught up in grandma duties with Lily to care about the name. And Danny was the biggest surprise of all, buying into the whole thing, including calling his amazing chocolate porter Black Magic. Mason glanced at the logo painted on the wall and felt an unexpected flash of anger.

“Want to get out of here for a minute?” Grace called over to him. “You look like you need a breath of fresh air.”

“People will be arriving in a couple of hours,” Mason protested with an edge to his tone that he didn't like but couldn't seem to stop. “Fresh air will have to wait.”

Grace came from around the bar and walked his way. “Hey, you can relax. Everything is more than ready. Mattie, Sophia, and Mum will be bringing over trays of cheeses, fruit, and finger sandwiches.”

“What the hell is a finger sandwich?”

“Sandwiches made of fingers.” Grace laughed. “Come on, you know, fun-­sized beauties that will fit on party plates. Roast beef and baby Swiss cheese, country ham on Mattie's melt-­in-­your-­mouth biscuits, turkey with a tangy cranberry spread that's really amazing. Mattie loved getting the menu together. She plans to leave the sandwiches on Walking on Sunshine's menu, available for early happy hour as soon as she gets her liquor license and can have your ale on tap at the bistro.”

Mason nodded and reminded himself that the success of the brewery was going to be an asset to more than just him. He was going to add employees at the brewery, but he would need bartenders in the taproom as well.

“Garret is going to provide some casual live music outside around the fire pit. I just looked again and the weather is going to dip down into the upper fifties, a perfect night for being outside. I checked everything off on my clipboard.” She dusted her hands together and gave him another smile. “We're good to go, so you can stop with the scowls.”

“When will Colby and Danny get here? Will they be enough at the bar?”

“Sophia is going to pitch in once the food is delivered, and she said that Avery offered to help out too.”

“Are you paying all of them?”

“They said they work for beer and food.” She gave him a nudge. “Come on, Sir Brewmaster, snap out of your mood.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“You've got everything under control,” Mason said, but then looked away, trying to keep his odd mood from upsetting Grace. She didn't deserve it.

“Except for you.” While her tone was light, Mason could hear a measure of hurt in her voice as well, and he hated to be the cause. He suddenly wished he were out on the lake fishing.

Grace put a hand on his arm. “What's wrong, love?”

“Nothing.”
Everything.

“Talk to me.”

“Grace, there's nothing to say. I'm just a little bit on edge. I'm sorry,” he said, but it sounded lame to his own ears.

“Hey, it's normal to be nervous for something like this. It's the night you've been working toward. But honestly, I don't see what could possibly go wrong. Tony's wife, Trish Marino, is coming by to cover the event for the
Cricket Creek Courier
. She's such a sweetie that I just know the review will be great. She's going to bring some pizza and desserts from River Row Pizza in exchange for putting some of their menus out on the tables. Nice, since they will be carrying our beer on tap soon, so it's really smart cross-­promotion. I've been amazed at how the businesses support each other around here.”

“Well, a few years back this town was struggling big-­time. Working together was the only way to keep local mom-­and-­pops afloat, and as you know, the marina was one of them.”

“Mason, all of Cricket Creek is proud to have a craft brewery here. It's a perfect addition to the town, when you think about it. You should feel so good about adding this sweet operation that will enhance the lives of locals and attract tourists. Everybody wins. Especially you.”

“If not for you, I might not be up and running,” Mason said, trying to give her the props that she deserved, but his tone came out stilted and all wrong.

“Oh wow.” Grace shook her head and then dropped her hand from his arm. “I get it now,” she said quietly. “I forced this Broomstick Brewery theme on you and now you resent me for it. And now that the opening is upon us, the realization is smacking you in the face.”

“You know I was dead set against the witches theme from the beginning. I didn't pull any punches.”

Grace waved her hand in an arc. “This isn't a whim. You know damned well that I put lots of research into this marketing plan. You have to have a hook. Have to stand out.”

“Oh, it stands out.”

“Everybody else thinks it's brilliant.”

Mason remained silent.

“Except you. If you hated it this much, why on earth didn't you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me?” Mason looked up at the ceiling and then back at her. “You were impossible to stop. And I haven't forgotten that you're the boss of marketing.”

Grace gasped. “Oh, so
that's
what this is all about? Listen, when you signed on the dotted line, we became a team. I don't know squat about brewing beer and you don't know a thing about marketing.” She patted her chest with the flying-­witch logo on the front so hard that her hat slid to the side. “A team! I'm not your boss. I'm in charge of marketing. And you said that you wanted to protect Shane McCray's investment. That meant coming up with something creative and memorable. Drawing in women who already love craft beer and especially those who haven't given it a try. We talked about it! You know all of this. I can't believe you're saying this rubbish to me right now! What's gotten into you, Mason? This isn't like you at all.”

He couldn't answer because he didn't know.

“Wow.” She tossed her hat at him. “All right, then. I'm out of here.” Grace turned and then stomped away. She walked through the door without looking back, and he didn't blame her.

Follow her,
a voice shouted in his head. But like a dumb-­ass, he stood there, feet planted, arms folded, and watched the woman he loved go out the door. He looked down at the hat and uttered an expletive that his mother would box his ears for saying.

Mason knew, of course, what had gotten into him. The soft opening was going to be hectic and could quickly turn into a zoo. Although they'd invited a couple of hundred friends and family in an open-­house kind of coming-­and-­going way, he also knew that word spreads like wildfire in a small town and they'd likely have at least a hundred more party crashers. He'd warned Grace that this would likely happen, but she'd shrugged it off, promising that they were prepared for extras and when the beer ran out the party would be over, plain and simple. Leaving people wanting more was part of the supply-­and-­demand game anyway.

Mason was still standing there in the middle of the room when Danny strolled in. Rusty trotted in with him and came over to have his ears scratched. “Hey there, boy. Sorry I've been so busy lately. What's up, Danny?”

“I just passed Grace heading out, and she didn't look happy. What's up, bro?”

“I was an ass.”

Danny looked down at the hat and picked it up off the floor. “What the hell? Why?”

Mason shrugged. “Nerves. I'm a fucking shit show. I took it out on her.” He pointed to the witch on the wall. “I told her I couldn't stand the logo. Bad timing.”

“Ya think?”

Mason shot him a look.

“Do you really hate it, though?”

“Danny, I hate this crap.” He walked over to the bar and sat down heavily on one of the stools. “This place isn't what I expected it would be. Why did I let her call all of the marketing shots?”

“She took over marketing, networking, social media, the parts that you suck at. And she happens to be a genius at it. She landed several articles in the local paper. Did you know that you have over ten thousand likes on your Facebook page? And lots of them are women.”

“I've got more important things to do than jack around on Facebook and Tweeter.”

“Twitter.”

“Whatever. It's all a bunch of bull.”

“Mason, you don't have a clue how important this is nowadays.”

“I do, Danny. I just don't like it.”

“Well, get with the program. On the grand-­opening night, Grace said we'll have the local TV news here.
Southern Way
magazine is interested in doing a huge spread. Mason, the only problem you're gonna have is keeping up with the production.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“While you buried yourself in the brewery, I talked to Grace. I'm impressed with her, Mason. She came up with the presale of custom growlers and the special bomber cup that will sell out in no time. Her idea to rotate the beers throughout the night is great. I can't wait to try the coffee stout.”

“You mean Morning Magic.”

Danny laughed. “I like all of those clever names. When did you lose your sense of humor? Damn. Lighten the hell up.”

Mason scowled but silently acknowledged that Danny was right. Somehow Gracie had gotten him laughing again. “This isn't just fun and games. What if I can't keep up? This is the kind of stress that landed Dad in the hospital with a heart attack. I do discuss things with Gracie, but, Danny, she's talking expansion already. It's blowing my mind. I didn't sign up for this shit, and I let her do this to me.”