Chapter Six

After a couple of weeks, Colin had settled into a routine of sorts. He worked in the shed most of the day, brewing beer and cleaning up afterward. Then he’d head over to the Salty Goat around six and work there for two or three hours. Then he’d head back to the shed and sleep. He used the bathroom at the deli to clean up, shave, and brush his teeth so he could dive into his sleeping bag as soon as he got back to the shed.

The baseboard heater kept the place livable, if not exactly cozy. He learned to wear layers as he worked—sweatshirts and hoodies over thermal underwear. Of course, sometimes when the burner was going under the brew kettle, it got warmer than usual in the shed, which meant he had to peel off some layers, only to reapply them when the burner shut down. It was a constant battle to keep warm enough or cool enough.

His search for an apartment was another source of frustration. Peaches was right; there weren’t many vacancies in the middle of ski season, and the few he’d found were way out of his price range. He even checked around for rooms to rent, but most of those had been turned into Airbnbs. He was stuck in the shed for the time being, which would have been okay except for Wiseass.

He dropped in on Peaches a couple of times to see his dog and, if he was honest, to see Peaches, too. He gave her a cut of his wages every week to pay for Wiseass’s room and board. Peaches had protested a bit at first, but he had a feeling she approved of his taking responsibility for his pet. Truth be told, he was almost as happy to see the dog as Wiseass was to see him. There was something about the pup’s generous affection that made him feel whole again, as if he didn’t have a host of people who hated his guts. He couldn’t be truly bad if his dog still loved him, right?

Being with Peaches for an hour or so in the evening was something else he looked forward to. Every time he saw her, it lifted a little of the gloom that seemed to follow him around these days. She fed him, even though he didn’t really want her to. Of course, that wasn’t exactly accurate. He loved her cooking, both at the Salty Goat and at her house. But he knew he shouldn’t be taking food from her. It was one thing to grab a spare dessert from the walk-in after he finished cleaning the restaurant. It was another to have Peaches whip him up an extra grilled cheese sandwich when he showed up to pet his dog.

It might have been easier to tell her not to do it if he didn’t like being around her so much. But he did. She was funny and sassy and so down to earth she made him feel welcome every time he stepped inside her house, maybe the only place he felt welcome in Antero.

And she was sexy as hell, with her golden ringlets and her enormous blue eyes. She was so tiny she only came up to his shoulder, but just looking at her was enough to create a spark of arousal in his gut.

Something he wasn’t exactly proud of.

He was in no position to get turned on by anybody, much less the woman who was his boss and who was doing him more favors than he could count. But his body paid no attention to his brain. It wasn’t just his heart Peaches lifted.

Sometimes he thought she seemed interested in him, too, but he wasn’t sure. Every now and then, it felt like they were sharing something, but then she’d step away, as if she was concerned about getting too close to him. Not that he could blame her for keeping her distance. She was his boss. And he lived in a concrete bunker, for God’s sake. He couldn’t take her there, and he wouldn’t impose on her hospitality further by trying to seduce her in her own house.

He might have been a rat bastard once, but he wasn’t going for a repeat performance.

Still, the brewing was going okay. More than okay. The first batch of simple ale had worked well. Liam had approved it, although he didn’t seem that impressed. It would be okay for the brewpub. They could sell it. But it wasn’t special. Now Colin was trying an IPA, like Bec’s but not exactly. He was using some of the citra hops, so the flavor should be fruity and intense.

He brought a beaker of the new stuff to the pub for Liam to taste. The place looked a little more finished this time. One of the walls had been painted dark blue, and someone had hung a gigantic chalkboard on it, probably where they’d post their beer selection, along with basic descriptions and maybe the Alcohol By Volume percentages so people would know just what they were getting into when they ordered a schooner. The floor had been sanded but not finished yet.

Liam was sanding down the bar, an impressive holdover from the pub’s days as the Black Mountain Tavern. He glanced up as Colin approached, his lips edging into a cool smile. “What’s up?”

“Brought some IPA for you to sample. It’s still young, and it’s not the special for the pub, but I think it’s good.” He placed the beaker on the bar, careful to spread a dust rag beneath it first.

Liam raised an eyebrow as he held the beaker up to the light. “Still cloudy. You going to fine it? Or just let it settle?”

“I was going to leave it, but I could add some fining if you want.” Assuming Bec would let him have any. Fining cost money—money he didn’t have.

Liam shrugged. “You can let it settle. People around here aren’t that fussy.” He reached beneath the bar and produced a glass then poured off a taste of the IPA.

Colin managed a nonchalant look. It was only his second beer. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t. It wasn’t his show piece yet. He wasn’t going to invest too much in it. Yeah, right.

Liam took a sip then stood savoring. “It’s still young,” he said after a moment.

“Right. I just wanted to give you a preliminary taste.”

He sipped again then nodded. “It’s okay. It should mature into something drinkable.”

Faint praise, but better than nothing. “So I’ve got the American ale and this IPA. Is there anything else you want me to try before I start working on more specialized stuff?” He had his own ideas, but he should let Liam take the lead. I’m a team player. You want me to prove myself, I’ll prove myself.

Liam paused again, thinking. “You could try an oatmeal stout. Bec was going to do one, but then she got caught up getting more into the retail line. She hasn’t had a chance to get back to it.”

Colin took a breath. “Is that what you want for the pub?”

Liam stared at him, unsmiling. “It’s a possibility.”

“I’ve never done an oatmeal stout.” He’d never done a stout, period, but it was a chance at winning back their favor. He could probably figure it out.

“You feel like trying?” Liam raised a slightly mocking eyebrow. “It’s not that hard. Shouldn’t be, anyway. Of course, you need to know what you’re doing.”

Colin nodded. “I understand.”

“Okay.” Liam raised his hand, counting off on his fingers. “More of the American ale and this IPA. And try an oatmeal stout.”

“Right.” He wasn’t sure how many chances he’d get to make the special beer for the pub, but the oatmeal stout would definitely be a start. And if he made it work, he’d be off probation.

Liam put the beaker of IPA underneath the bar. “You found a place to live that’ll take your dog yet?”

Colin blinked. He kept forgetting that Liam and Ruth were a couple and that Ruth would undoubtedly pass on gossip from the Salty Goat. He didn’t know if Liam knew he was living in the shed, though. “Not yet. It’s still high season at the resort, I guess.”

“Good thing Peaches has room. And a soft heart.” Liam still wasn’t smiling.

“She’s been a good friend. I appreciate her help.” Colin waited for Liam to slide in another needle, but he turned away.

“Let me know when the oatmeal stout’s ready. Bring it up for me to taste.”

Clearly, he’d been dismissed after being reminded that the Dempseys considered him a bottom-dwelling parasite. Colin sighed, pulling on his jacket. It was what he’d signed on for. Guts up and take it.

…

Peaches watched Alicia dish up another serving of mushroom mac and cheese.

Mushroom. Mac. And cheese.

The recipe was one she’d brought to the table after Peaches’s lasagna had been a moderate hit as a midday main dish. They were working up to having a daily special besides soup.

Alicia hadn’t entirely approved of the lasagna, which hadn’t included the béchamel sauce she insisted was necessary for a really first-class version. Peaches had explained that her own version, which included cottage cheese and parmesan along with a rich meat sauce and mozzarella, would function just fine without a béchamel.

Alicia had seemed almost disappointed when the lasagna had sold out.

So the mushroom mac and cheese had been her return fire.

She’d first proposed wild mushroom mac and cheese, but Peaches had pointed out that actual wild mushrooms would be hard to come by in winter, plus ruinously expensive. Alicia had tried to argue they didn’t have to use actual wild mushrooms—that cremini would be fine. But Peaches had also vetoed that idea as being dishonest at the very least.

Alicia had finally reconciled herself to plain mushroom mac and cheese made with button mushrooms, which she herself would sauté in butter. Peaches told her to knock herself out. She had her doubts about whether any of their regular customers would order it.

But then she’d had to admit the resulting dish was pretty good. Alicia had managed to include goat cheese in the finished version, which was always a hit with Ruth, and the combination of browned mushrooms and creamy cheese sauce was smooth and elegant.

Even though Alicia was annoying, she was also a very good cook.

Peaches was still trying to decide just how far her tolerance went with Alicia, though, very good cook or not. Cooks with any talent were hard to come by during the high season in Antero. Peaches knew they were fortunate to have landed Alicia when she hired her. She also figured Alicia would be moving on as soon as she found a more prestigious restaurant needing a line cook. With any luck, she’d stay to the end of the ski season. After all, the Salty Goat gave her a base of operations, and the fact that they weren’t open for dinner meant Alicia’s evenings were free for her to scout out possible job openings elsewhere.

Win-win.

“I’ve got an idea for our next main dish,” Alicia said brightly after they’d sold out of the mac and cheese. She picked up her gold bracelet from the counter and pushed it back on her slender wrist.

“You mean after we do the meatloaf and the chicken pot pie?” Those two dishes were already headed for the main dish rotation, with ingredients coming in daily, and Peaches had no intention of switching them out, even though Alicia had seemed less than enthused over either of them. Peaches figured she could always have Alicia concentrate on the soup and sandwiches for those days.

“Right, right.” Alicia nodded absently. “Anyway, I think we should do spaghetti with Bolognese sauce. It’s a good hearty dish for the winter time. I think we’d sell out.”

Peaches paused. She knew Alicia was waiting for her to ask what the sauce was, and one part of her wanted to wait until evening and then look it up on Google just to spite her. But that would be a waste of her time, which she was trying to avoid. “What’s in the sauce?”

“It’s delicious.” Alicia’s smile was broad. “I had it in Italy last year. You begin by braising beef and pork, maybe a chuck roast and a pork butt, then you shred them and add them to the braising liquid along with carrots and mushrooms and celery and tomatoes, maybe a little red wine. And you add parmesan before you serve it. It’s absolutely scrumptious.”

Peaches managed not to raise her eyebrows. “It sounds like it. If you can come up with a version that doesn’t involve two roasts, maybe one with hamburger, we can probably try it.”

Alicia’s smile dimmed. “That wouldn’t be authentic Bolognese.”

“Probably not. But authentic Bolognese would be too expensive. The cost per plate would be above what we’d be able to charge for a lunch dish.”

Alicia pouted, which made her look a lot like a three-year-old, although a three-year-old with perfect hair. “People will pay for quality.”

“Yes, they will.” Peaches tried to keep her voice calm. “And we give them quality here. I’m proud of our menu. But we’re a lunch and pastry place. Our customers don’t expect to spend a lot of money on the meals they order from us. We have to walk a fine line between good food and expensive food. It’s a useful skill to learn.”

Alicia’s lips thinned. “I had courses in budgeting at culinary school. They were required.”

They might have been required, but the subject matter apparently hadn’t sunk in. “Good. You know what I’m talking about. You can work on a less expensive version of the recipe and we’ll see about putting it on the menu. People like spaghetti with meat sauce.” Which was what she’d probably call it if they sold it. No point in trying to fool people into thinking they were eating something they weren’t.

Alicia paused. “We could always do spaghetti Bolognese for the brewpub opening. I know you’re looking for a dish to serve. I could show you the recipe. It’s really special, like I said.” She gave Peaches a slightly feline smile.

Peaches took a calming breath. She hadn’t realized Alicia had been following her struggles with the menu for the brewpub opening. She wasn’t ready to involve her in event planning yet. “I’ll look at it, but I haven’t made any decisions.” Spaghetti didn’t seem like a great idea for a large crowd and few tables, but she’d consider it.

Alicia turned on her heel, obviously annoyed at being kept out of the loop. But she also started mixing up the coffee cake batter for the next day without being reminded. Heaving a sigh, Peaches went back to the carrot cake she was mixing up for the evening customers.

Win some, lose some.