Over the last few months he’d gotten Thoreau trained in-house and certified in craft brewing through the new program at a nearby college. The handsome twenty-two-year-old black man worked in the back every day brewing, monitoring fermentation and filling kegs—in the old kitchen and the basement Seamus had refurbished to serve as the brew house—putting the Murphy family’s lessons to good use. He seemed to enjoy it as much as Seamus did.
So far, they had an Irish Red named Little Finn after his sister, and Brady’s Stout for his super-sized cousin. There was also the beer he’d initially made for Owen’s bachelor party, Jeremy’s Porter. He’d have to tell Owen how popular that one was because it would drive him crazy.
Rory had suggested he create one called Elder’s Bitter. It was tempting, but Seamus was worried about how his father, Shawn, might react to that poke at his grumpier twin, despite their falling out.
His customers were in love with his microbrews. They couldn’t make the beer fast enough.
He should be in heaven right about now. This was what he’d gone to Ireland for. This was what he’d wanted.
But now all he could think about was what he’d left behind.
Ken Tanaka had been sitting at his corner table with his laptop open all night, ignoring the band, the regulars who recognized him and the strangers who stared at his long braid and beautiful profile in fascination. He said he’d been going stir crazy at home, but Seamus couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it than that. Did he know Bellamy was in town?
Did he know why?
Ask him.
Seamus found a free chair, turned it around and straddled it so he could face his cousin’s fiancé. “What are you doing that’s so fascinating? You’ve been at it for hours.”
“Multi-tasking.” Ken grinned, stretching his arms over his head before slipping his long braid into a loose type of bun. “I’ve updated your website, added pictures from tonight’s band into your gallery, gotten by a few firewalls for something too classified to tell you about, and earlier Fiona was helping me set up a profile for your cousin Wyatt on a dating site.”
“Is Wyatt having problems getting a date?”
Ken sighed and shook his head. “No. But he’s being more of a tool than usual and I want to enjoy his reactions when the emails come pouring in.”
Seamus tried to smile, but he was strung too tightly for it to look genuine. “Is that all?”
“Actually no.” Ken studied him. “I was trying to find your anonymous equine provider and researching a business plan for marketing and mass production.”
“Any luck with anonymous?”
“Not yet.”
Seamus nodded casually, as if it didn’t matter. “Me either.” He paused. “Mass production of what?”
Ken waved his hand down the bar. “Your beer. People love it, and it’s not just the microbrewery experience. It’s everything you’ve done since you took over. You’re making something special here. I genuinely want you to think about thinking bigger.”
Seamus snorted. That was the last thing he’d expected him to say. “These last few months have been great, but I’ve expanded so fast I’m not sure how I’ll keep up with it on my own. And I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Ken shrugged. “Neither do I. That’s why I’m putting out feelers about getting you someone who can walk you through the process and see how feasible it is.”
Seamus crossed his arms and stared at Ken sternly. “You aren’t allowed to put out feelers or get me anything else. Ever. If it’s my birthday? If I save the world from evil aliens and you just want to thank me? I’ll take a card that says, Remember Little Sean and Ireland? And we still won’t be even.”
“Stop.”
“I mean it, Ken. I appreciate your generosity and I’m thankful Brady has you in his life, but I’m not comfortable with more. I slept in a damn castle disguised as a hotel and I owe you more than I’ll ever be able to repay. Though I’m hoping you’ll start accepting the money I’ve been trying to give you to cover at least half of my trip.”
“It was a Christmas present, Seamus. And money doesn’t mean much if you can’t do something good for your family.” His eyes darkened for an instant, as if he were remembering something painful. “I haven’t had that in a long time, and I know Brady and I aren’t married yet, but—”
“But nothing,” Seamus assured him gruffly. “You saved me from losing my son and gave Tasha back to Stephen. You’ve made Brady happier than I’ve ever seen him. And you’re just as stubborn as the rest of the Finns. You’re family.”
“As stubborn as you, you mean?”
“I’m not being stubborn when I say this place is finally what I knew it could be. Branching out would take more money. More time. More space and more employees. I have four kids and two parents getting older every year. I’m building this for them. I can’t gamble with it.”