Maisie shook her head. No harm, no foul. Susan was a sweet woman and meant well, but she was born in a different time, raised with a different mindset. One that Maisie thought needed a refresher course, but Susan wasn’t her family.
Annie stepped up to the counter and gave a gentle smile. “What can we get for you, Maisie?”
“A dozen assorted muffins, please.” Maisie needed to pull out the big guns this morning. Yesterday was a disaster. She needed a fresh start, and baked goods always put her sisters in a good mood. Even Clara.
A few minutes later, muffins in hand, Maisie was back on the road and headed home. When she finally arrived, the driveway was empty. Later today, cars would line the small parking lot next to the barn. Three Chicks Brewery was part of the brewery tour put on by local companies for vacationers. Maisie had loved doing that job, but her cousin Penelope took it over. Because, well, Penelope was better at being on time, being responsible, and not letting kegs fall on her hand. Heaviness sank into Maisie’s chest. She didn’t mean to suck so much at her jobs, she just got easily distracted. Sometimes it seemed like the world was out to get her, like a keg breaking her finger.
She parked next to Clara’s practical sedan and Amelia’s bright blue Yaris. The scent of the fresh baked muffins surrounded Maisie as she hurried into the house, greeted by the nutty aroma of fresh brewed coffee coming from the kitchen. She found her sisters sitting around the old, worn oak kitchen table looking at their phones. “I have sugary awesomeness,” she said by way of greeting.
Both sisters were off their butts in a second flat.
Mason, Clara’s son, came running in from the family room. “Me first. Me first.”
“Well, of course, fine sir.” Maisie opened the box, and he took the apple cinnamon muffin before bolting away.
As Clara reached for the muffin, she said, “I think it’s safe to say he probably doesn’t need the sugar.”
“Sugar is always good,” Maisie said with a smile.
“I agree,” said Amelia, taking the box of muffins over to the kitchen table near the bay window.
Maisie quickly made herself a coffee with cream and then joined them. She took the first bite of her peach streusel muffin and sighed in happiness. “Oh, my God, this should be illegal with what it’s going to do to my ass.”
“Ditto.” Amelia chuckled.
“Ha! I knew there were muffins.” Penelope entered the kitchen, wearing her long brown hair up in a messy bun. Her olive-colored blouse did amazing things for her green eyes, but Maisie thought it was probably happiness that made her look so alive. Penelope and her husband, Darryl, were madly in love, and Maisie had never been happier for her. Penelope had crappy parents, who shipped her off to River Rock for the summers. A blessing, really, since there, with Maisie’s grandfather, Penelope saw what real love was like. Maisie and Penelope had always been kindred spirits. Her cousin grabbed a muffin from the box and took a seat next to Clara. “I swear I could smell them from the driveway,” Penelope continued. To Maisie, she asked, “How’s the finger?”
Maisie rolled her eyes. “It’s just a broken finger. It’s not like I cut an arm off or something.”
Penelope’s brows rose. “Touchy subject, I take it?”
“Mortifying subject,” Maisie mumbled, taking another bite of her muffin.
Clara blessedly—or maybe not so blessedly—cut in, “All right, let’s chat about tomorrow’s festival. I need to stay home with Mason. Amelia’s brewing tonight. Penelope’s got a tour to run.” Maisie felt everyone’s gaze zero in on her, as Clara added, “Since none of us can go with you, have you figured out how you’re going to handle all this? You’ve got to bring a lot of gear to the events, along with the kegs.”
“Of course, I’ve thought about it,” Maisie lied breezily. The festival itself she could handle. The setting up was the problem. But—and this was the biggest but of all—she didn’t want to admit any of that to her sisters. They were nailing this brewery stuff. Even Penelope who had no stake in the brewery, except to work there, had the beer tours running like clockwork. No mishaps. No accidents. Maisie simply needed to catch up. And fast. “You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got it all figured out.”
Clara gave a glassy stare. “Really? What’s your plan, then?”
Maisie cleared her throat. She hadn’t gotten that far yet. She’d only thought as far as muffins to put her sisters in a good mood. “Well, I…ahh…”
“Why don’t you ask Hayes to help you?” Penelope interjected.
“Hayes?” Maisie repeated.
Penelope nodded. “Darryl told me last night that Nash told Hayes to take ten days off to make sure he’s not suffering a head injury.”
Maisie tilted her head to the side, her thoughts freezing for a second. “Wait. Darryl talked to Hayes?”
“Yeah,” Penelope said, unwrapping her mu
ffin. “He drove Hayes back to the hospital last night.”
Maisie shot up from the table, her mouth dry. “Is Hayes okay? What happened?”
“Okay, hold up there, Batman,” Penelope said with a smirk. “He’s fine. He just jumped ship and left before he was discharged. I guess the nurse helping him is the wife of one of the big guns at the station. You know what they say, happy wife, happy life…well, his wife wasn’t happy. If Hayes hadn’t gone back, it was going to mean lots of paperwork. I guess it was their anniversary, and it would have made her late for their dinner.”
“Oh, shit,” Maisie said, returning to her seat.