Hayes chuckled and left his office, finally feeling like he’d taken the right step forward.
15
Later that night, Maisie sat on her bed, sketching her memory of that day at the stream with Hayes. Soft, instrumental music played from her cell on the bedside table. Her small bedside lamp was turned on, a soft yellowish light warming the space. She’d taken some strong painkillers an hour ago, and with her finger finally pain-free, she had grabbed her sketch pad. Drawing awkwardly, but making it work, she let her pencil flow easily over the page, not exactly sure if she was getting the drawing right, but the stream, the mossy rocks, even Hayes sitting there, it all flowed from her pencil to the page. And creating something was keeping her mind off the fact that Hayes wanted to talk. She couldn’t explain why, but things felt…different. He felt different. And she wasn’t quite sure about any of it.
“Look at this.”
Maisie glanced away from her page, finding Clara barging into her room. “What is it?”
“Just look.” Clara offered the phone.
Maisie read the Google search, scanned the news articles, not believing what she saw before her. Great beer. Fun times. Three Chicks Brewery Outshines the Competition. “Holy shit,” she breathed.
“Yeah, holy shit is right,” Clara said, accepting her phone back. “You did that, Maisie. You know that, right? You pulled off something that even I hadn’t thought possible. You not only fixed the problem with missing that last festival, you blew our competition away. We went from a thousand followers on social media to over twenty thousand. Us. A small little brewery in River Rock.” Clara tucked her phone away in the pocket of her jeans and then took Maisie by the shoulders, squeezing gently. “You did that, just being you, crea
ting in the way you do. I’m really, really proud of you, Maisie. Pops would have been too.”
“Thanks.” Maisie smiled, and yet somehow that happiness couldn’t quite reach her heart.
“And the best news yet,” Clara added, releasing Maisie’s shoulders to take a seat on the bed. “Today a distributor contacted me.”
“Shut up!” Maisie gasped.
“It’s true,” Clara said with a laugh. “I’m going into Denver for a meeting in a week.” Clara shook her head, obviously not believing all this either. “I didn’t even have to call them, Maisie. They called me. I hope you feel really good about this.”
“I do,” Maisie said. “Hell, I actually feel like I’ve gotten something right for once.”
Clara gave an understanding nod and then took Maisie’s good hand, squeezing tight. “Listen, you’ve done your part here, and I know that’s been important to you. Doing this for us. For Pops. But it’s okay, you know, if you want to branch out now, and see what else is out there for you. We all know that the brewery isn’t really your thing, and definitely not satisfying you, so here’s your chance, Maisie. Go do what makes your heart happy.”
Maisie lowered her gaze to their held hands. “You won’t be disappointed?”
“How could I be?” Clara countered. “You did your part. You’ve got no reason to feel like you’re leaving us hanging. Of course, it would be ideal if you wait to pull out your one-third in the company until we’ve gotten more successful, but if you absolutely need it, we’ll find a way to make it work with a loan or something.” She tucked a finger under Maisie’s chin, until Maisie lifted her eyes. “You got me an in with a distributor. Now it’s my turn to take the brewery to the next level. You’re an artist, a dreamer. Go create, sprinkle your sunshine where it’s most needed. Whenever we have big parties at the brewery, you can take control of those. You’ll always be a part of the brewery, if you want to be.”
Maisie nearly parted her lips and said thank you, yes, I totally want this, but one thing stopped her. “There’s a lot going on right now in my life, and not only professionally. I don’t think it’s a good time to make any huge decisions.”
Clara smiled and patted the top of Maisie’s hand. “That’s probably the most mature thing I’ve ever heard you say.” She rose and placed a kiss on Maisie’s forehead. “You don’t need to rush anything, just take a little time, all right, figure out what makes you happy. You deserve that.”
When Clara reached the door, Maisie called, “I’m not the only one who deserves to be happy, you know.”
Clara’s smile softened, but before she could respond, a ball of energy suddenly burst into the room. Mason jumped, literally like a monkey, on her bed. Maisie snatched him up and smothered him with kisses.
“Ew,” Mason snapped, fighting to get away. “Stop kissing me, Auntie Maisie.”
“Never,” she said, pulling him in and kissing him again. “You’re just so loveable.”
Mason wiggled out of her reach, bounced on the bed again and then took off out of the room.
Clara shook her head at her son. “Well, that’s one way to get him out of here quick.” She laughed and shut the door behind her.
The clock on the bedside table read 8:30, Mason’s normal bedtime, and Maisie heard the old pipes complain when Clara turned on the faucet for his bath. Desperate to get lost in her sketch, instead of her tangled thoughts, she turned back to her drawing, unaware of how much time passed when there was a knock on her bedroom door. “Come in,” she called.
The door opened, revealing Penelope and Amelia on the other side, both wearing Yoga pants and T-shirts, typical girls’ night in clothing. Penelope was holding a pie and a bottle of wine. Amelia had three forks and wine glasses. All indicating that Clara must have called in reinforcements when Maisie’s sunshine wasn’t shining as bright tonight.
“We come bearing butter pecan deliciousness,” Penelope said, holding up the pie like a prized possession.
“Then you may enter,” Maisie said, and patted her bed.
She set her drawing aside on the bedside table, but Amelia caught sight of it as she slid onto the bed across from her. “Wow. That’s really gorgeous,” Amelia said. “Is that Hayes?”