Page 18 of Shelter from the Storm

“Cool,” Theo replied. “I’ll see you at the house later.”

“His turn to cook?” Gretchen asked as they walked away, attempting to make conversation that didn’t involve Theo “getting to know” too much about her. The next hour or two would be a lot easier if she could keep Theo talking about himself.

“With six bachelors in one house, it makes more sense to take turns cooking rather than all of us piling into the kitchen to make something for ourselves. Tonight is Jace’s night, which almost definitely means something Italian. He makes a hell of a marinara sauce, so he usually serves spaghetti or chicken parmesan.”

“Sounds delicious.” Gretchen wondered what Edith was making them for dinner tonight.

Of course, having dinner with Edith was contingent on her making it back to Millholland House on time and in one piece.

It was a ten-minute walk from the brewhouse to the brewery. Gretchen knew that because she’d set her stopwatch. She’d also timed the entire walk from Edith’s house to the farm, and what she discovered was that she was in worse physical shape than she’d thought, and while five miles didn’t feel like that big a distance, it definitely was when four of those miles were straight uphill on a winding mountain road.

Gretchen had spent the two-hour walk—TWO HOURS—in fear for her life as she wound around one sharp curve after another, praying no one hit her. She could tell by the looks of surprise on the faces of the handful of drivers who passed her, they were shocked to find anyone walking on that road.

Getting a driver’s license and a car had skyrocketed to the top of Gretchen’s to-do list, though she knew neither of those things could be done quickly. Even if she was able to get a license in a reasonable amount of time, she was nowhere near financially ready to buy car. Mainly because all the bills had been in Briggs’s name, and she’d never had a credit card. So she was currently sitting on the lowest credit score a person could manage.

As they walked, Theo talked about the history of Stormy Weather Farm, about how his great-grandfather had purchased the land and maintained an apple orchard there. The vineyard and winery were apparently the brainchild of Theo’s grandfather, Lloyd. She was so enthralled by his easy style of storytelling and the pride in his voice as he talked about his family’s rich history, she forgot to be nervous about the fact she was walking through the woods alone with a strange man.

By the time they reached the brewery, Gretchen was hot again. She’d changed out of her blouse and back into one of the turtlenecks before leaving Edith’s house because, given the heat, she knew she’d sweat off the concealer. The problem was, she was way overdressed for the temperature. She prayed the bruises would fade enough by Monday that she could dress more appropriately for the weather.

“Are falls cooler in Harrisburg?” Theo obviously noticed she was red-faced and sweating. In addition to the sweater, she’d forgotten to pack a bottle of water for her trek. A mistake she would not repeat next week.

“They are,” she lied, uncertain how else to explain what she’d chosen to wear. “I’ll have to pull my short sleeves out for next week.”

“We have a relaxed dress code, as I said when you accepted the job, so jeans and T-shirts are fine. We’re also going to give you some shirts with the brewery and winery logos on them, which you can wear for special events or when talking to people about renting the event barn. I know Nora ordered at least half a dozen for you after she got your size.”

Gretchen recalled how grateful she’d been when Nora emailed to ask for her shirt size, aware those work shirts were going to bulk up her pitiful wardrobe considerably until she could afford to buy more clothes.

They stopped outside the entrance to the brewery. Theo started to say something—then lifted his hand and swung it in her direction.

Gretchen flinched, covering her face and whimpering in fear, the need to protect herself so instinctual that she didn’t even consider her actions.

Theo stopped short, quickly pulling his hand back. “I’m so sorry!” he apologized. “I was swatting away a bee. I was afraid it might sting you.”

She struggled to understand what he was saying because her heart was pounding so hard, and blood rushed through her ears, deafening her. It took her too long to recover, to figure out how to cover for her response.

“I’m afraid of bees.” It was a lame attempt at playing off what had happened.

Theo frowned, and she got the sense he didn’t believe her. Why would he? She’d massively overreacted.

“I really am sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Gretchen wondered how long it would take her to find another job, and if she should start looking now, because she was fucking this up royally, acting like a timid mouse afraid of her own shadow. “I’m fine.”

Mercifully, Theo moved on, putting them back on track. “Obviously, this is the brewery. It’s quiet now, since it’s still the middle of the workday, but come quitting time, we’ll probably have close to thirty people sitting around, enjoying happy hour. The weekends are our prime time, same for the winery. We schedule local musicians to entertain on those days. That’ll be part of your job. I’ll give you a list of performers and their contact information next week.”

“Okay.”

Theo gestured to the parking lot. “It’s not uncommon for our lots to be completely filled on Saturdays and Sundays in the fall and the spring, when the weather is milder.”

Theo led her inside, then to a table on the wide deck that ran the length of the brewery and provided that same incredible view of the valley. Mercifully, he chose a table in the shade, so it was somewhat cooler even though they were still outside.

“This is beautiful. I can see why it’s such a popular place,” she mused, looking around. There were quite a few tables around them as well as inside. Below the deck, on the hillside, were several different sitting areas outfitted with Adirondacks, facing the valley. There was a large firepit off to one side, surrounded by hewn logs that served as bench seats. There was a long bar inside and one outside, both with small lines of people waiting to be served. Even for an off hour, the brewery was doing decent business.

Theo handed her a pad consisting of half-sheets of paper. “This is our current beer list. If you want to try a flight, you tick the boxes of the ones you want. If you want a pint, you check here,” he said, pointing to the sheet.

“I think I’d like to try a flight,” she said. “So that I’m familiar with your offerings.”

“I’ll do one too.” Theo talked to her about each of the beers on the list, giving her an idea of whether they were dark or light, bitter or sour. He spoke about the alcohol content, warning her against the higher percentages, since she admitted she didn’t drink much.

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