Sassy Blonde (Three Chicks Brewery 1)

“Then why does it feel like it is?” Maisie stared at the crystal vase, unable to face the disappointment in Clara’s eyes. She reached for another leaf. It fell apart in her fingers. “Hayes and I were doing so well. And, because, on a whim, I wanted some fun, I cost us this last festival.” She slid her fingers over another leaf.

“Please stop killing the flower,” Clara said. “It did nothing to you.” The softness in Clara’s voice made Maisie lift her gaze. Clara smiled gently at her, making Maisie fight back tears. “You tried your best. We both know that.”

Amelia agreed with a nod. “We do.”

Maisie didn’t feel better. If anything, she felt worse. They’d worked so hard. Done everything right. Maisie, no matter what she did, always messed things up.

Whatever showed on Maisie’s expression made Clara shake her head slowly. “I honestly don’t understand how so many bad things can happen to one person. It’s like you’ve been hexed or something.”

It had truly begun to feel that way. “You know, maybe that is what’s going on here. Maybe someone hates me and has hexed me into failing. All the time.”

Amelia said, “Who would hate you, Maisie-Moo?”

“If you find out, let me know,” Maisie said.

Amelia snorted a laugh.

Maisie pulled her hands away and pressed the bottom of her palms into her eyes. “Seriously, though, what are we going to do now? We needed that festival, right?”

“We did, yes,” Clara answered. “But there’s not much we can do about that. The only thing we can do is wait until the insurance money comes in so we can repurchase what we need for future festivals. There are a few more coming up in a couple of months we could hit. They’re not as big as these last few, but it’s still something.”

Amelia asked, “How long do you think it will take to get the insurance money?”

“I don’t know,” Clara said grimly.

Maisie considered, facing the daunting reality. “But can we still get a distributor without that last festival? Or will another brewery stand out above us?”

Clara shrugged. “I don’t know that either.”

That was never a good sign. Clara always had ideas and answers. Maisie’s throat tightened, and she dropped her head against the table, hard enough it hurt. “I hate this fucking curse on me.”

Silence descended, even heavier than before.

Until Amelia said, “Do you remember when you broke Nan’s special mug?”

“Yes,” Maisie said into the table, banging her head once more. How could she forget that horrible memory? Their grandmother drank her tea out of the same fine china glass for as long as Maisie could remember. A year after their grandmother passed away, Maisie had been looking at the mug. It’d slipped from her hand and the mug smashed to pieces. Maisie remembered her tears.

“Do you remember what Pops said to you?”

“No,” she grumbled.

Hands gripped Maisie’s head, forcing her gaze up. Clara’s eyes were untypically soft. “He said that things break, fall apart in ways you may never expect.”

Amelia nodded, a knowing look on her face. She left the kitchen and returned a moment later with a picture frame. In that frame was a mosaic that Maisie had made of the glass shards. Amelia placed it on the table in front of Maisie and said, “You were really young at the time, so I don’t think you could have understood how happy Pops was that you made this.”

Maisie slid her fingers over the glass. The work was messy, glue visible, but Pops had framed it.

Clara asked, “Do you remember what he said to you after you gave him this?”

“Not exactly,” Maisie said, trying to recall. “I remember his smile.”

Clara’s eyes went distant, lost in a memory before she blinked, clearing them. “He told you no one was like you. That most people would have thrown the mug out. But you looked at something broken and made it beautiful. That was your gift to the world.”

Emotion clogged Maisie’s throat and she choked on a sob. “I miss him.”

Both of her sisters nodded in understanding, tears in their eyes. The world was a better place with Pops. Pops had a special kind of love. Maisie missed that love. Love where she felt wholly understood.

In the quiet space of the moment, she realized she felt that with Hayes too. He only seemed to see the good, even if the bad was undeniably obvious. But she could feel him holding back, and right to the heart of it, she knew there was a good chance he’d never let his guard down. Not completely anyway. Not enough.