“This town’s big enough to support two microbreweries.”

  “Maybe, but you’ll make less. If I were you, I’d be doing whatever I could to get her to leave.” He nods toward the barn. “I’m going to go drop off those t-shirts and get going. See ya later.”

  “Yeah, bye.”

  “Friend of yours?” Nash asks as we watch Tom go back to his truck.

  “No. We went to high school together. I didn’t like him back then and still don’t. He’s one of those guys who doesn’t accept anyone new moving to town. He thinks they don’t belong here. I almost punched him when he said that shit about Gina.”

  “Just ignore him. Guys like that aren’t worth getting all worked up about.”

  “They are when they say shit about your girl.”

  “Yeah, I get that. So why are you guys doing business with him?”

  “I’m not. My dad is. He let Tom do the festival t-shirts this year to help him out. He heard Tom’s business was struggling. He owns the print shop in town.” I check my phone. “It’s after three. I need to get going.”

  “Sawyer!” Nick yells as he walks up the hill from the orchard. He looks like a farmer with his plaid shirt, worn jeans, and work boots. It’s hard to believe just a few months ago he used to be a lawyer in New York City.

  “Hey, I’m heading out,” I say. “Brody’s bringing up more pumpkins, but I can’t stick around to unload them.”

  “I’ll do it,” Nash says as his brother Jake comes out of the barn. “Jake will help.”

  “Help what?” Jake asks.

  Nash nods toward the tractor full of pumpkins coming up the hill. “Unload all those.”

  Nash and his brothers arrived this morning to help us with the festival. Uncle Mitch is coming later tonight. They didn’t used to get involved with the orchard, or even come up to visit that often, but after my dad’s heart attack last summer, we decided our families need to get together more.

  “I’ll see you guys later,” I say.

  “What time are you coming over tomorrow?” Nick asks.

  “I’ll be here at eight.”

  He smiles. “With Gina?”

  “Yeah, she’ll be here.” I continue to my car before he teases me again about Gina. He’s doing it because for years I told my family I didn’t have time for a girlfriend and now I’m spending all my time with Gina. We’re practically living together. Every night, I either stay at her place or she comes to my mine.

  “Are we ready to open?” I ask as I come into the brewery from the back. “We got people waiting. I’m going to open the doors.”

  “I’m ready,” Wade says, standing behind the bar.

  “Milo? Rocco? Andy?” I look at the three of them on the other side of the bar. “You guys ready?”

  “Yeah, we can open,” Milo says.

  “It’s crazy out there,” Andy says. “Main Street’s so crowded you can hardly walk down it.”

  It’s not just the downtown that’s bustling with tourists. The whole town is filled with them. It took me forever to get here from the orchard because the roads were so backed up.

  “Yeah, I’ve never seen it this busy,” I say, “but it’s good. This is our chance to show off the brewery and make people want to come back. Greet people as soon as they walk in and let’s try not to make them wait for service.” I go and unlock the door. Two couples are standing outside it, waiting to get in. “Welcome to Kanfield Brewery.” I smile and step aside to let them in.

  “Oh, what a charming little place,” one of the ladies says.

  “I love the woodwork,” the other lady says.

  “You make the beer on site?” one of the men asks.

  “We do. I’m the owner.” I shake his hand. “Sawyer Kanfield.”

  “You connected with the orchard?”

  “I am. My family runs it. My father started it about 40 years ago.”

  He smiles. “We love that place. We go there every year. And now we’ll have to add this place to our visit.”

  “Glad to hear it. Sit wherever you like. Milo will be over to take your order.”

  More people trickle in as they realize we’re open an hour early. By four, the place is full and people are waiting for tables to open up. It’s good I hired the extra help. I’ll need it when I’m not here this weekend. I plan to spend the next three days at the orchard, helping out but also just enjoying it. It’ll be a weekend of good food, good music, and hanging out with my family. And Gina will be there, which will make it even better. She fits in really well with my family. My brothers like her and my parents do too. My mom keeps smiling at me when I’m with Gina, like she thinks we’ll end up together someday. It’s too soon to think about that, but if I were to imagine myself with someone in the future, I could see it being Gina.

  My phone rings and I go to the back to answer it. It’s Gina calling. “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Slow. There’s like 10 people here.”

  “Did something happen to the signs?” I ask, referring to the signs she put up along the road, directing people to her brewery. “Maybe the wind blew them over.”

  “The signs are still there, or they were when I checked this morning.”

  “People might be taking the other road into town.”

  “They’re not. The road outside G’s has been busy all day. People just aren’t stopping. I’m thinking of running a special to get people in the door.”

  A few weeks ago, we wouldn’t be talking about this. We made a rule that we wouldn’t talk about business. But as we spent more time together, it kept coming up. It’s what we do all day, what we’re passionate about, so it’s hard not to talk about.

  “Do what you have to,” I tell her. “You need to get people to stop.”

  “I could go out there in a bikini and flag people down.”

  “Gina, don’t—”

  “I’m kidding. I’ll run a special and maybe have one of my girls go out there and hold up a sign promoting it. If that doesn’t work, I don’t know what to do. I’m running out of ideas. How are things over there?”

  “Busy,” I say, feeling a little guilty that I’ve got people waiting for a table and her place is almost empty. But I can’t tell my customers to leave and go to G’s. That would imply they’re not welcome here, which is not the message I want to send. And they’d have at least a 20-minute drive to get there, probably twice that with all the festival traffic.

  “Sawyer, I’m going to stay here tonight. I need to figure this out. And I need to make new signs promoting the special.”

  “You want me to come to your place?”

  “Not tonight. I’m not even sure I’ll go back to my apartment. I might just stay here tonight and work.”

  “Gina, you need to sleep.”

  “Sleep can wait. I need to save my business.”

  “Does that mean you’re not going to the festival tomorrow?”

  “I’ll go, but not until later. Tell your mom I’m sorry I can’t help out in the morning.”

  “Don’t worry about it. She’ll understand.”

  Wade comes through the door to the back. “Sawyer, we need you out front. We’re getting slammed.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” He leaves and I talk to Gina. “I need to go. Wade needs help out front.”

  “Didn’t you hire two more servers?”

  “They’re here, but it’s not enough. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Yeah, bye.”

  I’d like to help her, but I’m going to stay out of it. Gina likes being independent and figuring things out on her own. I’m hesitant to even offer her a suggestion because I’m afraid she’ll accuse me of telling her what to do. Her ex used to do that and she hated it. She said Ryder was controlling and treated her like she was a child, which is why she didn’t want to work for him anymore and why she broke up with him. I don’t want her thinking I’m that way too so I’m keeping quiet.

  17

  GINA

  I don’t understand it. Cars have been driving by G’s since we opened and hardly anyone has stopped. Are they just in a hurry to get into town? What’s the rush? The festival doesn’t start until tomorrow.

  As soon as I got off the phone with Sawyer, I told Aria and Lexi we’d be running the $2 beer special again. I put a sign on the road, letting people know, but now it’s dark out so they won’t even see it. I promoted the special on the webpage and social media, but I doubt anyone saw it since I’ve only got a few followers.

  “You can go home,” I say to Lexi as she stands at the bar, looking bored.

  “Really?” She perks up. “Right now?”

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  She races to the back, leaving Aria and me behind the bar, which nobody is sitting at because the handful of people here are at the tables.

  “You can go too,” I say to Aria. “There’s no reason to have both of us here.”

  “What’s going on? Where is everyone?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t figure it out. It’s like everyone just stopped coming. Is it the beer? Did something happen to it?”

  “It’s not the beer. The beer is great.”

  Just to be sure, I grab a glass and get a sample of stout from the tap. “It tastes like it always does.”

  “Yeah, I told you, it’s not the beer.”

  “Then what’s going on? This is festival weekend. We should be packed.”

  She shrugs. “I guess they’re all going to Sawyer’s place. You have to admit he’s got a better location.”

  “And we’ve got better beer.”

  “You didn’t tell Sawyer that, did you?”

  “No, but it’s true. He knows it is. I’ve been doing this a lot longer than he has. He’ll get better. It just takes time. Point is, we should have customers. It’s not hard to get here and we have plenty of parking. The parking downtown is a nightmare. It’s hard to get a spot even when it’s not festival weekend.”

  “Maybe people don’t want to drive out here once they’re in town.”

  “People who like beer won’t care. Ryder and I used to go to microbreweries in the middle of nowhere and they were twice as busy as we are. People will drive out of their way for a good craft beer.”

  “Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

  I turn to her. “Aria, I’m sorry, but I really need you to go. I can’t afford to keep paying you when we don’t have the sales.”

  “You don’t have to pay me. I’ll just keep you company.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I know, but I want to. I’d rather be here than go home to an empty apartment.”

  We remain behind the bar, leaned against the counter, staring at the door like we’re willing it to bring in customers.

  “So I met this guy today,” Aria says. “He asked me out.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Short, bald, looks nine months pregnant, and smells like cigars.”

  I smile. “Lenny asked you out?”

  Lenny is the old guy who works at the grocery store. He greets you when you walk in. I think that’s his only job. I’ve never seen him do anything else.

  Aria tells me the story, which makes me laugh and gets my mind off my lack of customers for at least a few minutes.

  An hour later, she goes home. By midnight, the place is empty so I close down early, deciding it’s not worth staying open for the one or two people who might show up. I go in my office and try to brainstorm ways to get customers. At this point I’d do most anything just to make enough to cover the bills.

  I was hoping Sawyer would offer up a suggestion or talk through my options to maybe spark an idea I haven’t thought of yet. But he didn’t, which makes me wonder if he doesn’t want to help me. I can’t be mad at him for that. Why would he help his competitor? But I’m also his girlfriend. I thought he’d do more than just tell me to check that my signs were still up.

  When I get back to my apartment, my phone rings. Assuming it’s Sawyer, I answer, “Hey, I’m home. I closed early. There was no use staying open without customers.”

  “Gina, it’s me. Dad.”

  I instantly panic, thinking something happened to him. Other than holidays, he almost never calls. “Dad, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  “No, I just thought I’d give you a call. I know it’s late there, but I assumed you’d be up. How are you doing?”

  “Okay. Dad, are you sure there’s nothing wrong? You never call me out of the blue like this.”

  “You don’t have your grandfather watching out for you anymore. Or Ryder, now that you two broke up. I worry about you, kid.”

  “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.”

  “What was that you were saying about not having customers? Is that bar of yours not doing well?”

  “It’s a microbrewery and it’s doing fine. It was just a slow night.”

  “Who were you talking to when you answered? A new boyfriend?”

  “He’s just a friend,” I say, not wanting to tell my dad about Sawyer. I don’t tell him much about my personal life. I didn’t tell him about Ryder until after I’d moved in with him. My dad doesn’t share much about his personal life either. I know he’s dated since my mom died, but he doesn’t talk about it.

  “How do you like that town you’re living in?”

  “It’s okay. There isn’t a lot to do, but I work a lot so it doesn’t really matter.”

  “And that place of yours. It’s making money?”

  “It’s getting there. It takes time to get a new business going. I just need to be patient.”

  “If you had used that inheritance of yours to buy a house—”

  “Yeah, I know, Dad, but that’s not what I wanted to do. I don’t want a house. I want a business, something that’s mine where I get to make the decisions and don’t have to work for someone else.”

  “And what happens if it doesn’t work out? You’ll be left with nothing. No money. No place to live.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” I say, feeling annoyed. He hasn’t been around for most of my life and yet he thinks he knows me and can give me advice. This is why we don’t talk. It just turns into a lecture of what he thinks I should be doing.

  “Willy shouldn’t have put those ideas in your head. If he hadn’t, you’d still be working a real job and could’ve used that money of his for something practical, like a house.”

  Willy is my grandfather and the person who taught me to believe in myself. Growing up, he told me I could do anything. He’s the reason I beat boys in sports and competitions. He never let me doubt myself or think that because I was a girl, I couldn’t do stuff that boys did. It wasn’t until I was older and saw people dismissing me because I was a girl that those doubts started appearing. But when they did, my grandfather would shut them down, telling me I’m only limited by my own beliefs, not those of others.

  Before he died, I told my grandfather I wanted to open my own microbrewery. He didn’t question me or tell me I couldn’t do it. He said to go for it. I didn’t have the money then and was looking into getting a loan. My grandfather offered to give me the loan himself, but then he died before he could. In his will, he left me the building in Haydon Falls along with a note saying the building was the future home of G’s brewery. G was his nickname for me. Even after his death, he was still pushing me to follow my dreams.

  “If things don’t work out,” my dad says, “you might be able to get some money for that building. Probably not much, but enough for you to live off of until you get a job.”

  “It’s going to work out. I just need more time. Nobody knows me here. Once they do, things will get better.”

  “It’s not easy in a small town. Those people tend to take care of their own. They give you any trouble yet?”

  “No. Everyone I’ve met so far has been great,” I say, thinking of Sawyer’s family. Other than them, I really don’t know many people in town.

  “Just be careful. Sometimes locals don’t take well to new people.”

  “I haven’t had any problems and I’ve been here for months.”

  “Well, that’s good. Hope it stays that way. Hey, I wanted to talk to you about the holidays.”

  “You’re coming home, right?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m thinking of staying here in Germany during my leave.”

  “Why? Why wouldn’t you come home?”

  “There’s a woman, a lady friend I’ve been seeing for about a year now. She has family here and asked if I’d go home with her when I’m on leave. I wasn’t sure what your plans were but—”

  “Yeah, go ahead,” I tell him, knowing he’d rather be there than here. It hurts that he doesn’t want to be with me over the holidays, but the reality is, he’s never been much of a dad, and when he’s home, it’s awkward between us. We don’t know what to talk about and he always seems like he’s in a hurry to leave.

  “Are you sure? Because I can tell her no. I already told her I’d planned to come see you. I’d hate for you to be alone over the holidays.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can spend the holidays with friends.”

  It’s not really true. Aria is my only friend in town and she’s going to a resort in Mexico for the holidays. And Sawyer and I aren’t serious enough for me to spend the holidays with him and his family.

  “If you’re really okay with it, I’ll let her know.”

  “Yeah, go ahead and tell her. Dad, I should get to bed. It’s late.”

  “Before you go, if this bar of yours doesn’t work out, you’ll be okay. You’re a fighter, kid.”

  That’s actually a compliment for him. He rarely gives me compliments, saying it’s not good to think too highly of yourself. Gives you nothing to work for.

  “Let me know how everything goes.”

  “I will. Bye, Dad.” I end the call and feel myself tearing up. I go in the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. This isn’t worth crying about. Who cares if my dad doesn’t want to see me? I should be used to this by now. I shouldn’t expect anything from him.

  I’m on my own, and I can make this business work. I just have to be smarter and work harder. I need to get that competitive spirit back. That’s what drives me to do better. I need to compete with Sawyer like I did when we were kids. Just because I’m dating him doesn’t mean I have to let him win. If he can get customers, so can I.