Page 18 of Hooked on Marshall

“Lana?You okay?”

“Yeah,” I nod.

His expression softens a bit. I think he’s about to question me some more when the waitress comes back with our beer. We tell her we need a few more minutes before we’re ready to order and manage to focus on only that until we’ve made a decision. Once our order is in, Marshall grabs the pitcher and pours for us. When he’s finished, he raises his glass, and I follow suit.

“Here’s to coming back home,” he says. “And finding happiness.”

Tears prick my eyes at his words, but I manage to smile and tap my glass to his. Then we each take a long pull. I close my eyes and sigh after I swallow. Enjoying the taste.

“Wow,” I breathe. “I haven’t had a draft beer this good in a long time.”

“Not a big drinker?”

“I’m more of a wine girl,” I shrug. “But when I do drink beer, I prefer tap beer. Drinking from cans or bottles makes me burp something terrible.”

“You know that’s why you’re supposed to pour beer into a glass, right?”

“No,” I smile. “I didn’t.”

He laughs and explains how it releases some of the carbonation that causes beer bloat. And it also releases the aroma which can improve the taste. It’s obvious he knows his trade, just as his brother did. So, for most of our meal, talk revolves around his bar he just sold in the city and the changes he wants to make at the Alehouse.

“I want to change the name,” he sighs. “I want it to be a tribute to Mark, but in a subtle way. I just haven’t come up with anything I like yet.”

“What was the name of your bar?” I ask.

“Pour Decisions,” he grins.

“Seriously?” I laugh.

“Yeah,” he nods. “There were too many places around that felt the need to elevate the bar experience. I chose that name because I wanted mine to…remind me of home.”

“I wish I could have gone there,” I tell him.

“You still can,” he says. “The new owner said he wasn’t going to change much.”

I shake my head, and my marketing brain starts asking questions about his old bar so I can possibly help him with the changes he wants to make with the Alehouse. Our discussion continues until our pizzas arrive and long after we’re done. After I drain my beer, I sit back and think. Something is tickling the edge of my brain that I think could work. It’s just not coming to me yet. Too many quiet minutes must pass for his liking before he breaks my reverie.

“Lana?”

“Yeah?” I ask as I look up at him.

“You’re quiet.”

“I know,” I nod. “Just thinking.”

“You know,” he starts as he leans forward, “I was going through Mark’s files, and he’d made a note about you wanting to help with marketing. He was obviously impressed.”

“He told me he was,” I say as I fight back tears. “But after what happened, I didn’t feel right bringing it up to you.”

“Well, now that I’ve brought it up, I’d love to see what youweregoing to do first,” he says. “Then, if we can settle on the perfect name, we can take it and run with it.”

I can’t hold back my smile at this. I didn’t get much more done with my ideas after speaking with Mark because he was gone the next day. But now that Marshall is giving me a green light, I’m ready to set myself to task again.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “I’ll start pulling things together as soon as I get home.”

“There’s no rush,” he says quickly.

“Okay.”

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