Speakeasy (True North #5)(81)

And I can’t do it myself. NA beer needs more equipment than any other kind of beer. If Lyle doesn’t want to partner up, I’ll have to take the idea elsewhere.

“Fascinating,” Lyle says slowly. He picks up the glass I gave him and takes another sip. “Low alcohol yeast, huh?”

“There are lots of levers we can move to get it just right. Arrested fermentation. Reverse osmosis. There will be some trial and error.”

He sits back in his chair. “I’m interested, Alec. Maybe you just came up with the next big thing. I’m willing to give it a try. Ask your lawyer to put in an addendum for a shared product.”

“Will do,” I say cheerfully. I’m so excited I almost snap my fingers and shake my hips. But I think I’d better break in this crew slowly. They’re not ready for full-on Alec.

“Let’s talk about the renovation,” Otto says.

I take a seat at the table again, knowing I’ve earned it.

“What are we going to call this place?” Griff asks suddenly. “We need a name.”

“In my head I’ve been calling it the Tasting Room,” Lyle says. “But that’s a little dry.”

“And a little pretentious,” Otto says. At least I know now that he’s also free with his criticism of people who aren’t me. “Sounds like a winery.”

“What are some other words for bar?” Lyle asks. “Tavern. Pub…” He lapses into silence.

“Speakeasy,” Griffin and I say at the same time.

“Huh,” Lyle says. “That’s different.”

“It’s archaic,” Otto says. “But I kind of like it.”

“Speakeasy,” Lyle says slowly. “Like those secret bars during prohibition, right? They were breaking all the rules.”

“We’re breaking all the rules,” Griffin points out. “Small brewers have entirely remade the beer industry in the last ten years.”

“I like it, too,” I put in, just in case anyone cares what I think.

“Grandpa will be so excited if this name sticks,” Griffin says. He scribbles Speakeasy across the top of his notepad.

I feel giddy. Co-owning a project with other people isn’t something I thought I’d ever want to try. But it’s going to be fascinating.

And I can’t wait to tell May everything.





“Alec.” Otto stops me before I can walk through the muddy woods toward my building.

“Yeah?” I hope he’s not about to crap on this tired but happy buzz I have going.

“Good work in there.”

Holy fuck. An actual compliment from Otto. “Thanks.”

Behind him, Griff waves goodbye to me out his truck window before pulling out onto the road.

I lift a hand to return it. “Never thought I’d work with Griff Shipley.”

“Why not?” Otto asks. “You two are a lot alike. Young and bullheaded.”

This makes me laugh out loud. In the first place, I never thought I had a single thing in common with Griffin. “Thanks, I think. I just never thought I’d want to be in business with the family who fired my dad.”

Then again I never thought I’d fall in love with one of them, either.

“Fired?” Otto squints at me.

“Sure. From the dairy. Right before he lit out of here for good.”

Slowly, Otto shakes his head. “Maybe that’s what he told your mother. But that man quit the job when they didn’t raise his pay.”

“Come again?” I feel a prickling sensation on my skull. Did he just say what I think he said?

“The dairy was bigger back then. Your pop always wanted more than he was worth. And he asked for it just as milk prices dipped, which wasn’t very smart.”

“Oh.” Shit. “Why’d he quit, though?” It doesn’t make a lick of sense.

“Stubborn as always. That man was angry at the world for not handing him everything on a platter.”

A wave of shame rolls through me. And that makes no sense, either. His sins aren’t mine. “That’s not me,” I say carefully. “You always say I’m too much like him. But that’s not how I roll.”

Otto shrugs. “Not today. Good presentation.”

A bark of bitter laughter escapes me. Next time I want Otto to pass the salt at supper, I’m going to use a powerpoint to get the man’s attention. “Later, Otto. I gotta go prep the bar now.”

“Talk soon,” he says, turning away.

Fucking Otto. He’s not warm, but this time he actually came through for me. Goldenpour is back on tap at the Gin Mill. Otto helped me convince Lyle that I’d handled the Smitty situation. And he helped get me and Lyle to the negotiating table over Hamish’s property and our joint business venture.

I’ll take what I could get from him, and I’ll stop feeling angry about the rest of it.

Meanwhile, I have a business to run and a pretty girl to see.





“Then I showed them the pie chart,” I say, smiling down at May. I’ve trapped her on my sofa underneath my body. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. “That was page seventeen of my presentation, by the way. One more page than the presentation Giltmaker gave Otto.”