I halfway considered having James drive by her house, but I’m not going to pull a Romeo at the balcony thing. Or even a John Cusack with a boom box. It’s going to take something bigger. Lindy needs to see me as steady and serious—two things I’m not particularly known for. Which means I need to be a man who can stick around for the long haul. Not my strongest suit, but maybe I’ve just never had the right motivation.
Collin taps his window as we cross over the train tracks and into the town proper. “You were right, Patty.”
“Thank you,” I reply. Too quickly, as it turns out.
“This isn’t a town; it’s the start of a horror movie,” he finishes.
“I can see the, uh, charm. It’s got good bones,” Chase says, trying and failing to sound like he believes this.
“Bones like a skeleton,” Collin mutters. “As in, dead. Very, very dead.”
James says nothing, but his jaw is clenched tighter than a fist. I’m hunched over here in the back seat, wondering what I was thinking. What was Tank thinking? My doubts about this idea are multiplying faster than a flu virus.
James stops in the middle of the main intersection and throws the truck in park. Turning to face me with an aggressive amount of force, he says, “This? This is where you think we should move a brewery that’s in its infancy, just starting out?”
I can see his point.
But I can also see Tank’s vision. Sure, my thoughts are a little clouded by Lindy haze, but I don’t think that’s all this is. I glance up and down the empty streets again, considering, remembering what it looked like during the day.
“You won an award,” I say. “You’re not exactly in your infancy.”
James says nothing, still giving me that dark look.
Sighing, I point toward the hulking metal buildings at the end of the main drag. “Pull up there.”
His eyes flash, but James does as I ask. A minute later he’s parked at the curb, and we’re all climbing out of the truck and I’m leading them through the unlocked chain link fence. I turn, walking backwards like a tour guide as I lead them through the cement courtyard strewn with litter and knee-high weeds.
“Picture this.” I spread my arms wide. “Picnic tables. Lights strung overhead. A stage over there with live music.”
They’re tracking with me and not arguing, but only Chase is nodding along. Sometimes Boy Wonder comes in handy.
I tap one of the metal walls of the smaller warehouse structure. “There’d be a cutout here. A wooden counter for the bar. Dark Horse’s latest selections on tap. Food trucks over there.”
There’s a gravel parking lot on the backside and a space between it and this courtyard with enough room for a few food trucks.
I walk them toward the biggest building with attached grain elevators rising above it. “Production for the brewery will be housed here. Plenty of space to start small and grow. Best of all—zero rent, because this property is part of the town proper, currently owned by our Dad.”
Collin has his hands on his hips. “You think people will drive all the way out here from Austin for this? There are literally dozens of places in town they could go instead.”
“Maybe if there were some other draw,” Chase says hesitantly. “If there were something else here in town. Anything at all.”
We all stare off past James’s truck to the still deserted downtown. A stray cat slinking across the street is the only movement. Make that half a dozen stray cats. A few more, and I’ll have to wonder if they’re planning a coup.
I snap my fingers, because that’s what you do when you have a sudden bolt of genius. “The Sheet Cake Festival!” I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. “It’s a huge event. Even the foodie magazines and blogs cover it. We have until then to get this place—this town—in a position to be a destination town.”
“You really think this could be that?”
It’s the first time James has spoken in minutes. His voice isn’t what I’d call warm by any stretch. But there’s no hostility. A small win. Hope rises like an air bubble in my chest, pressing against my sternum.
“The Sheet Cake Festival is massive. Thousands of people descend on this place. They’ll come for the festival and see what the town has changed into. Shops, restaurants, Dark Horse Brewery. They stay for the town, or they make plans to come back. Above the stores downtown we’ll build lofts. See the balconies? Historic, but with a modern aesthetic inside. Walking distance to the brewery.”
“You’re thinking we’d all move here to run things?” James asks. “We’d all leave Austin?”
“It’s just a hop and a skip up the road,” I say.
“I’m out,” Collin says. “I’ve got the gym to run, and I need to be there. But you know I’ll support Dark Horse, even if that’s only financially. Here, there, wherever you think is best.”
Chase doesn’t say anything. He and Harper haven’t even been married a year and just finished the renovation on their house. I don’t see them moving anytime soon.
“And you’re really all-in on this?” James asks, a tone of challenge in his voice.
I slide my hands into my pockets, rocking back on my heels. “Tank and I started demo on two lofts already.”
This statement is followed by a stark silence. I don’t mention I’m also paying the crew to expedite.
James gapes. “Even without all of us on board, you’re moving forward with this? Like it’s a done deal?”
“Tank already bought the town, remember? Dark Horse would be an anchor, but we can’t make that choice for you,” I say. “Might as well start work on what we have. I’m giving it a chance.”
“What happens when you change your mind about this, like you do everything else?” James demands.
Before, this might have hurt. But now, I just add this as fuel for my determination. Everyone loves a good underdog story, right? This will be the one about the guy who jumps from thing to thing finally settling down and committing to something—to someone—in his life.
“I won’t. Not this time.”
“I’ve heard that before,” James says.
“There’s a first time for everything,” Chase says lightly.
“I think you’re being a little harsh,” Collin says, giving James a look. “It took us both some time to figure out what we wanted to do with our lives.”