Page 11 of Single Chance

Outside, the sun shone brightly, but the air was crisp. I hurried to my car and got the heater going while I stirred my coffee and took a bite of muffin. It was every bit as good as yesterday’s apple cinnamon.

I headed to the Rusty Anchor Brewing Company, which was about a mile or so down Honeysuckle Road. I’d passed it yesterday when I’d gone into town to buy a few grocery items at the Country Market.

The town, I had to admit, was adorable. Though it was small, there was nothing sleepy about it. Most of the stores had been closed for New Year’s Day yesterday, but I’d parked my car on the square and walked a slow lap around it, taking everything in. Lots of people had been out and about, coming and going from the bars and restaurants that were open, as well as the gym. I’d seen multiple shops I’d love to explore, even though I couldn’t buy anything that wasn’t a necessity.

The brewery shared a parking lot with Henry’s Restaurant. When I turned into it, there were only a few cars. It wasn’t quite ten a.m., so I was guessing the restaurant wasn’t open yet, and Chloe had told me the brewery was closed the rest of the week for the holidays, giving its employees time off. I was grateful she’d insisted on meeting me today in spite of that.

I entered the brewery and took it in with a sweeping look. The decor was a combination of homey wood and industrial metals, tastefully combined. Through a wall of windows on the far side were several giant gleaming metal vats where the beer was made.

In one corner stretched a long, L-shaped bar for tastings, and on the wall behind it was a sign with the Rusty Anchor logo that said, “Facilitating bad decisions since 2021,” making me smileand think this might be the kind of laid-back place I needed while I healed emotionally and got back up to speed.

There were high-top tables scattered around the perimeter of the room, leaving the center as a large, open space.

“Hello?” I called out when I heard footsteps echoing.

A woman who looked to be in her thirties appeared from a hallway on the other side of the room.

“Are you Rowan?” she asked.

“I am.” I walked to meet her halfway.

She had dark, glossy hair, a welcoming smile, and an air of confidence about her. She was dressed in charcoal tailored pants and a slate-blue long-sleeve polo with a Rusty Anchor logo on the chest.

“I’m Chloe. It’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly as we shook hands.

“You too. Thank you for meeting me on your day off.”

Chloe laughed. “I’m kind of bad about taking days off sometimes, but I love my job.”

“This place is impressive,” I said, meaning it.

“My husband and our brewmaster and co-owner had a dream. I came along for the ride.” She glowed with obvious pride. “Can I get you something to drink while we talk?”

“I’m good. I just had some coffee.”

“I thought we could sit upstairs. It’s a little more comfortable and warmer.”

“Sure.” I was interested in seeing the rest of the building and getting a better feel for everything.

I followed her back in the direction she’d come from.

“This is where we make the beer, obviously,” she said, gesturing toward the towering silver vats through the windows. “Kemp Essex is our brewmaster and my husband Holden’s best friend. His office is tucked inside the brewhouse.” Once weturned a corner, she continued, “Holden’s the general manager, and his office is here.”

We entered a stairwell and went up a floor.

“Up here we have the rest of the offices and another public room,” Chloe continued.

“Do you function as a bar too?” I asked as we entered that public room, which had more tables and a railing that overlooked the two-story brewing room below.

“Not exactly. In the summer, we open the beer patio nightly, and we serve beer there. We have an agreement with Henry’s Restaurant, which my husband also owns with his brothers, to offer a limited menu along with our beer, and the servers are technically employed by the restaurant. But as for an indoor, year-round bar, we don’t do that. Not yet, anyway, and I don’t think that’s in the plans. We’re just delving into special events.”

“Like wedding receptions and parties?” I asked as we sat on stools at one of the tables, thinking this space would be ideal for both.

“Exactly. We’ve held events for our own business, and they worked out well. But we’re still relatively new, so expanding is gradual.”

“This place would make a gorgeous site for just about anything.”

“I’m personally excited about the potential. I love new challenges.” Chloe straightened and seemed to click into business mode. “So Presley told me a little about you and your situation. I’m so sorry about your grandmother’s passing.”

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