Love in a Nutshell (18 page)

“Glad to help.” Harley stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled for Junior, who was flirting it up with a pair of pretty hot-looking beer pourers a couple of booths down.

Junior gave Harley a wave.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go grab Junior,” Harley said. “We need to check out that spread of fancy finger foods before we’re trapped behind the booth. I think I saw shrimp.”

Matt could have pointed out that the food was intended for the party guests, and not Harley and Junior, but his friend was among the ranks of old dogs who refused to be retrained.

After they’d taken off, Matt headed toward Kate, who was putting her finishing touches on the merchandise table. Just outside of Keene’s Harbor she’d lapsed into silence. He’d understood … or thought he had. She had a lot on her mind, and she was going to process it in whatever way worked best for her. It was nice to feel comfortable and relaxed with a woman, even in a mostly silent four-hour car ride. He’d just turned on the music and moved into his zone.

He looked down at Kate’s table. “How’s it going over here?”

“Almost done.” She was concentrating on adjusting a pile of T-shirts. “I’m using the ‘stack ’em high and watch them fly’ approach.”

“It’s your turf. Arrange it however you want. We should be getting our first takers in about half an hour.” He held out his hand. “Come on, let’s take a look around before the place opens for business.”

Kate surveyed the booths lining one of the two long aisles that had been set up in the cavernous building. “I had no idea there were so many microbrewers.”

“More every day,” Matt said. “But it’s like any other business. Right now, it’s surfing a high, but it will level out again in a couple of years. Only the best will be commercial concerns, and the others will go back to home brewing, if they really have a passion for it, or just move on to the next fad.”

The walk was a slow one. He’d been in the business long enough that he knew most of the exhibitors.

Between booths, Kate asked, “What are you, some kind of cult hero? I don’t think there’s a single person here who doesn’t know you or want to know you.”

“It’s not that big a deal. We don’t land under the same roof all that often, so when we do, we talk.”

Matt stared into the crowd of people in front of him and saw that Chet Orowski was heading his way. Matt already knew through the grapevine that Chet hadn’t been able to find any other investors.

Orowski stopped a couple feet in front of Matt, and Matt extended his hand in greeting, thinking this was as good a time as any to re-establish a cordial relationship. “Chet, it’s good to see you.”

Chet slapped Matt’s hand away and poked him in the chest. “Culhane, you’re a crook and a liar.”

Matt stood his ground, waiting for Chet to finish. “Do you really want to do this here?”

Chet’s face was flushed and his hands were fisted. “You bet I do.” His pupils danced around his eyes like Mexican jumping beans and his voice got louder. “If I’m going to go down, it’s going to be in a friggin’ blaze of glory. I’m gonna stand behind my booth and tell everyone who will listen what a bastard you are.”

Matt glanced out of the corner of his eye at the booths to his left. Yup, spectators were already lining up.

“And this is why you drove all the way from Traverse City and rented a booth in Royal Oak?”

If the guy was going to slander him, he could have done it in a much more cost-effective fashion, Matt thought. Chet really wasn’t much of a businessman.

“Yes. No. I also did it to look for a partner. Someone honest. Someone who follows through.” He glared at Kate. “Someone who doesn’t waste all his time chasing after tail.”

Kate stuffed her hands onto her hips, narrowed her eyes, and leaned into Chet’s personal space. “Excuse me?”

Matt clamped his hand on Chet’s shoulder. To everyone but Chet it would look like a friendly gesture. Only Chet needed to know that this was a subtle warning of what could follow if he didn’t tone it down.

“Now, Chet,” Matt said. “We’re all friends in this place, right?”

Chet went silent.

Matt made his warning marginally less subtle. “Right?”

Chet squirmed but Matt’s grip on him stayed firm.

“Right,” Chet gasped.

“And when we’re among friends, we want everyone to have a good time, don’t you think?”

Chet nodded enthusiastically, though Matt was pretty sure he’d spotted sweat popping out on the guy’s forehead.

“Kate, here, is one of my friends, which would make her one of your friends by extension. You don’t want to talk about a friend the way you just did about Kate, right?”

“Right.”

“So how about you apologize to Kate—and to me, if you feel like it—and then we all get on with what’s going to be a very good beer festival? After all, do good things and they come back to you.”

“I—” Chet cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

The words had been delivered without a helluva lot of sincerity, but Matt had no interest in pushing this scene a second longer than he had to. He released Chet’s shoulder, then held out his right hand again.

This time, Chet did as he should have to begin with. He shook Matt’s hand.

“No hard feelings,” Matt said. At least not on his side. He wasn’t going to speculate on Chet’s.

Kate had been called a lot of things in her life: stubborn, nosy, and even some less nice stuff by her ex. But never had she been called
tail
.

She glared over her shoulder at Chet as Matt led her away. In a perfect world, where she was all-powerful and could smite the bad guys at will, she’d still be back there giving Chet a new perspective on life.

Matt took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Don’t let him tick you off. He’s not worth it. Or if it would make you feel better, how about if later I lure him to the parking lot and you can give him a fat lip?”

Kate smiled in spite of herself. “I just might take you up on that.”

He laughed. “I guess I should consider my audience when I’m joking around.”

“I promise I won’t hold you to your offer,” she said. But she did hold his hand almost all the way back to the Depot booth, where she moved on to finish up her merchandise fluffing. And just in time, too.

Kate could time down to the second when cocktail hour was starting in Royal Oak’s bars by the flood of private tasting guests into Farmers’ Market. She saw plenty of familiar faces in the crowd. Back when she’d been at
Detroit Monthly, s
he’d always gone out with coworkers for cocktails. Richard had worked late every Friday. Or so he’d claimed.

As people streamed by, she exchanged waves and greetings with casual friends. It felt good to see them, and that scared emptiness she’d been anticipating never materialized. She was no ghost; she was a new and improved version of Kate.

She looked past the guys checking out the Depot baseball caps and locomotive bottle openers and on to Matt, who was giving one awesome beer spiel. He was smart and funny, and his crowd was eating it up. Except one person. The guy was busy playing with his BlackBerry in exactly the same way that had made her insane from the day he’d bought the thing.

Richard.

Her ex’s black hair was absurdly long, but his perpetual slight frown, English tweed jacket, khakis, and ever-so-retro loafers were just the same.

Kate felt trapped. Fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and flight didn’t look to be a viable option. Running out of the building wouldn’t be very subtle, and she’d have to slip past him unnoticed to pull it off, anyway. Maybe Richard would drift off without seeing her.

She automatically made change for a guy who’d decided to buy ten bottle openers to give as family Christmas gifts. Somehow she didn’t think Grandma was going to plotz with gratitude, but Kate wasn’t about to stop the dude. After he was gone, she ducked under the table to grab more stock. She briefly considered hiding, except the space was a little tight and dark for her taste. And no doubt Matt would come looking for her. She’d rather not explain the whole ex thing to him.

Kate rose, and Richard spotted her. She wished she’d gone for full makeup instead of her usual mascara and lip gloss. It never hurt to look fabulous when seeing the ex for the first time since moving out of the marital home. But what she lacked in cosmetics, she could make up for in attitude. If Matt could talk nicely to Chet, she could do it with Richard.

Maybe.

Kate rounded the merchandise table and extended her hand. “Richard.”

“Kate.” His handshake was on the limp side, but at least he’d given it a shot.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. “You’re not a beer drinker.”

“This is a charity function that a client supports. I have to make a showing. But I’ll say, you can’t be nearly as surprised as I am. I’d heard you’d lost your job and had to move in with your parents.”

“I have a job,” she said.

“So I see. And Larry and Barb are well?”

“They’re fine, I’m sure. They’re at the Naples house until May, and I’m staying at The Nutshell.”

“Really? The Nutshell? That must be interesting.”

To anyone else, his comment would have sounded positive and sincere. Kate, however, knew how much he’d disliked both The Nutshell and Keene’s Harbor. And she felt very protective of both.

Kate smiled. “It’s wonderful.”

“Really? Living in your parents’ cottage and working in a brewery?” He glanced at his phone. “That’s a far cry from what you used to do.”

Kate wondered if Shayla was texting him, just as she had when Kate had been his wife. Water under the bridge, Kate thought. Shayla could text him all she wanted now. Kate had loved Richard, but his affair had taught her something. She couldn’t be the person she was meant to be when she was with someone she couldn’t trust. If she ever decided to marry another man, it would definitely be someone like Matt—someone who made her feel more herself than she did alone.

“I like it in Keene’s Harbor. I always did,” she said. “I’m happy there.”

“How nice.”

Funny thing, but he didn’t look very happy about her being happy.

“So can I tell you a little about our beer?” she asked, knowing this would roust snobby anti-brew Richard.

“No thanks,” he said. “I should move along.”

Not quickly enough,
she thought as he stepped off.

Then he turned back. “Oh, I forgot to mention … We had to give Stella away.”

THIRTEEN

Kate felt as though some vital connection in her brain had just snapped. “Would you mind repeating that?”

A faint little smile was forming on Richard’s usually passive face. “We had to give Stella away.”

Stella had been their baby. They’d spoiled her like mad. When they’d separated, leaving her had been wretched for Kate, far more painful than leaving Richard. Stella had been faithful.

“What do you mean,
had
to?” Kate asked.

“Stella didn’t take to Shayla. We couldn’t have her biting all the time.”

“Who, Shayla or Stella?”

“Very funny. Really, Kate, it’s great that you still have your sense of humor to keep you going.”

“And so you gave her away instead of sending her to me?”

“I didn’t know where you were.”

“My cell number hasn’t changed.”

Richard flipped his bangs out of his eyes like a pop star. “Don’t be difficult. It’s not as though you cared enough to take her in the first place.”

“Don’t even start with that stuff. I was ordered by the court to surrender her to you, and you know it. You had the fenced backyard. I had the loft apartment and no dog park in walking distance. I didn’t even get visitation rights, thanks to your high-priced, evil divorce lawyer. So tell me, who has her now?”

Her ex hesitated, and Kate knew this was going to be
no bueno
.

He looked down at his feet and Kate knew that for all his posturing, he felt bad. Richard had truly loved Stella, but Richard was a weak person. Richard was no match for Shayla.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Shayla handled it.”

“Stella was ours before Shayla became part of the picture, and you let
her
handle it—whatever that means? How could you allow any of this to happen?”

He kicked the ground with his right shoe, then looked back up at Kate. “I’m engaged. Shayla wouldn’t agree to marry me unless Stella went. She knows how busy I’ve been at work, so she just took care it. I’m sure she found Stella a good home. You should just move on, Kate.”

Move on?

Stella had probably been dumped at the city shelter, where her chances would have been slim. Everyone wanted cute puppies, not seven-year-old ginger-colored miniature poodles who had just a bit of a bad attitude. But Kate wanted her with all her heart. She also wanted to shake Richard until his teeth rattled, or boot him one in the rear, or …

She wrapped her hand around the closest open beer from the pouring table. She didn’t have a firm plan, but if Richard’s ridiculous hair ended up looking like stringy black seaweed, that wouldn’t be so tragic. Before she could do anything, though, two muscled arms gently wrapped around her from behind.

“Steady,” Matt said low into her ear, drawing her closer. “Take a breath, sweetheart.”

Kate’s eyes were focused on Richard. “I want Stella
now
.”

Richard’s gaze darted from the beer bottle to Kate. “I told you, I don’t know where she is.”

Matt tightened his hold on Kate. “Why don’t you set down the bottle?”

“He gave away my dog.”

“I take it you know him,” Matt said.

“This is my ex, Dick.” Which he hated being called.

Richard turned to Matt and offered the same limp hand he had to Kate. “And you are?”

“Matt Culhane, Kate’s boss.”

“I should press assault charges against your employee.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “For what? I didn’t even touch you.”

“Harassment. Intimidation,” Richard said.