Speakeasy (True North #5)(80)

“It’s driving me crazy not sitting in on that meeting. This is a big deal for Alec.”

Lark regards me with twinkling eyes. “So this Alec thing went from just a hookup to not just a hookup, huh?”

“You know it did,” I grumble. I already explained this on the way down from Vermont, but she’s just rubbing my nose in it. “I would have shared sooner, but my life is happening at double speed right now.”

“That’s why you need to get your own place,” Lark says. “Did you like the apartment we saw yesterday?”

“Of course I did. Except it’s too far…”

“From Alec,” she finishes.

“I was going to say from work. But that, too.”

“Ah well,” Lark says, stealing a scrap of avocado off my plate. “I tried. If I can’t have you as a neighbor, at least you’ll be near your man. You’d better look at places in Colebury, then.”

I want to, I admit to myself. Living near Alec would be terrific. Three snaps in the shape of a heart, my subconscious offers up.

Man, I’ve got it bad.





Chapter Thirty-One





Alec


I tuck into the take-out burger that Griffin fetched, feeling tired but satisfied with the day’s events. It’s been me, Griffin, Otto, and Lyle of Giltmaker basically locked in a room together to discuss our new business venture.

I’m putting up seventy-five grand in equity and five grand in cash. Lyle is putting in a matching amount of cash. Otto will kick in fifty, and Griffin twenty-five. Lyle and I will each own thirty-four percent of the company, with Otto at twenty-one percent and Griff at eleven.

It was a whole lot more complicated than that, because we also had to account for Lyle keeping his own trademarks and brand equity. These are words I didn’t understand before May schooled me over these past couple of weeks.

If this works, I’m seriously in debt to her. But I’ll be able to pay her for her trouble because I also stipulated that I wanted May to draw up all our corporate agreements and labor contracts.

“What do we talk about next?” Otto wants to know.

“Hiring an architect,” Lyle says. “Getting a builder. Selecting the product lineup. Finding a chef for the food menu.”

I wipe my mouth on a napkin. “Guys, there’s something I want you to taste. Hang on. Be right back.”

My truck is right outside, and the bottles I’ve kept in there have been naturally chilled by the winter weather. I even brought small glasses with me.

Back inside, I put the home brew on the table. “How about a little something I made?”

“Alec,” Otto says. Then he just shakes his head.

Faithless as always. But he doesn’t own fifty-one percent, so he can just put a cork in it.

“I’ll taste it,” Griff says. He already knows what’s coming. We discussed this ahead of time, because I need him on my side.

And, funny enough, he was willing to help.

I pour four servings of the beer and pass them out. Lyle tastes first, and I watch his face. His opinion is the one that really matters.

Why yes, I’m totally sweating right now. Pouring my home brew for Vermont’s most successful brewer is heady stuff.

“It’s…not bad,” he says thoughtfully. “It’s too light, though. As a product, I just don’t see a place for this yet. You should keep working on it.”

Otto winces.

“What if I told you it’s only two percent ABV?” That’s a low alcohol by volume. “And this beer, as you point out, isn’t a finished product. This is only step one. I brewed it with a special strain of yeast that produces low alcohol. My goal is to make NA beer, guys.”

“And why would you do that?” Griff asks. But the question is a softball for my benefit.

“This is why.” I get up and walk back over to the stack of charts that May and I put together. I flip the pages to a fresh graph that shows the growth of craft beer in America. It looks like a ski jump, reaching toward the sky. “Interest in quality beer has never been higher. You guys already know that. But…”

When I flip the page again, it’s a pie chart showing the market share of non-alcoholic beer producers. Almost the whole thing is shaded in two colors. “Unlike your craft-brew market, non-alcoholic beer is still dominated by a couple of giants. And they’re not very good beers. NA beer is a hugely untapped market. There isn’t a single one made in Vermont.”

“Holy. Shit.” Lyle is squinting at the chart. Even Otto looks impressed.

“Nobody is paying attention to these customers. But we can. I want to work on this, and I know it won’t happen fast,” I say. “We can start small—with one extra fermentation tank in the corner. And Griffin will help me figure out the best mechanism for extracting the alcohol to get below a half-percent ABV. He can put that chemistry degree to work.”

“Yeah, I like this project,” Griff says. “I like it a lot. Been a while since I did this kind of tinkering. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m interested,” Lyle says. “But will it be a Giltmaker brand product?”

“Maybe. Or maybe not,” I am careful to say. “It depends on whether we want to do the NA product as a joint venture. That would mean divvying up the rights and distribution. But I’m open to that. I want to get this product made more than I need to see my name on the label.”