Page 12 of Hammer and Hops

“Who wants to know?” I didn’t recognize the voice. “You selling something?”

“Uh, no. This is Everett Lundy. From the brewery. I wanted to apologize for yelling at you at the bar the other day.”

“Really?” What was there to apologize for? He didn’t want me accidentally breaking something—not that I would—but he didn’t know that. Plus, he still sounded grumpy.

“Yes. I was upset about the beer, or rather the beer tap, not you.”

“I was just there as an easier target. I get it. No worries, bro. I don’t hold grudges. You got it going again, and I got my beer. All good.”

“You sound happy about that. Glad you like it.”

“I really do. Great product. But, uh, that’s not why you called. Sorry.” I walked away from the job site but didn’t go far. I held my finger up to the foreman to let him know I was only taking a short break. Since he was my uncle, I was pretty sure he’d be cool with that. I was surprised that Everett had called me, even though I had shown up at his place like some weird beer groupie or something. Captivated, I wanted to keep him talking. For the first time in life, though, I didn’t know what to say. “So, uh…how’re you liking Foggy Basin?” How lame. He’d probably been asked that a million times.

“It’s alright, I guess. I mean, I’m used to the city, but the quiet is good. Most of the time. What do you do for fun around here besides Pints?”

“Oh, there’s plenty. Want me to show you?”

“Um…I guess. I mean, if it’s no trouble.”

“No trouble. I get off work at five. Want me to pick you up at your place?”

“Yeah, at the brewery, though.”

“Okay, I need to grab a shower first, so see ya around sixish? Will you still be there?”

“Yep. I’ll be ready.”

I was fishing for where he lived, but if he could be found at the brewery, that was good to know. Of course, with this town’s gossip mill, I was sure I’d find out soon enough. His call was sure going to make the day go by slowly, though, and concentrating on work would be awfully hard.

I lived near Dawson’s Hay Farm, and I’d been working on a house way down Lake Road, damn near halfway to Miller’s Point, which was way on the other side of Foggy Basin, so it took me a bit longer to get home, but I wasn’t terribly far from the Brewery, so I was only about ten minutes late. I knocked on the front entry door. It was glass, and, along with the business hours, had his logo etched on the front. Better yet, he actually opened it for me. “Hi, Everett. Sorry, I’m a little late.”

“You’re not really. I mean, it was an estimated time, right?” He smiled, showing beautiful white teeth, and my tummy decided it was a great time to take up gymnastics. He didn’t seem as grouchy as he had at the bar, so I took it as a good sign.

“You ready then?”

“Let me close up.”

After he locked the door, I walked him over to my truck. “I’ll drop you off here after.”

“That works.”

We climbed in but didn’t have too far to go for the first stop. “I thought about taking you to the Meade House, but given what you do, you know, maybe checking out the competition isn’t your idea of a good time.”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“We can hit that sometime later. I thought we’d get tacos and sit out at the lake tonight.” I hoped we would have more dates, of course, but I was somewhat baffled by him changing his mind on me.

“That sounds pretty good.”

I pulled up to the taco stand and parked. “We’re here.”

“Oh. This?” He wrinkled his nose.

“Don’t knock it, man. They have the best food. We can get tacos and street corn, and whatever else you like, to go.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” He didn’t seem sure about anything, but I knew he’d like it if he relaxed and tried it. And that was the plan.

“What? They didn’t have taco trucks in Sacramento?”