Hollywood on Tap (Sweet Salvation Brewery 2)

“A police report that says, and I quote—” Miranda cracked the piece of paper dramatically “—‘Not suspicious in nature, but most likely due to slipshod maintenance’.”

“Don’t let Clyde hear that, his head would pop right off.” Natalie gave in and sank back into her chair. Well, as much as she could with the extra–firm lumbar support cushion. Was a little let–bygones–be–bygones too much to ask for in Salvation? Apparently so.

Her landline rang and the dread slithered straight down her spine. She really needed to chill out. It wasn’t like the receiver was going to explode a la Mission Impossible as soon as she picked it up.

Hopefully.

She pressed the speaker button. “Sweet Salvation Brewery, Natalie Sweet speaking.”

“Holy shit, what is going on down there?” The familiar voice of the youngest Sweet triplet, Olivia, made Natalie smile despite everything. “Ruby Sue Jepson said all hell’s breaking loose at the brewery.”

“What are you doing talking to Ruby Sue?” Miranda asked, moving closer to the desk so she didn’t have to shout the question.

“Begging for some of her pecan pie.”

“You need comfort food enough to call and try to pry that recipe from the woman who’s sworn to take it to her grave?” Natalie’s hand shot to her pearl necklace, each warm orb a reminder of the advice Dr. Kenning had given her about accepting that there are some things you can change and some you can’t—the ultimate frustration of every control freak in the world. “Forget the brewery, what’s going on in your world?”

“Nice try, sis, but I won’t be distracted.” Olivia laughed. “Fess up. Now.”

Miranda sat down on Natalie’s chair, nudging her sister aside so they each had a butt cheek on the white leather seat. “We’ve had some problems,” Miranda said.

“You call five people going to the hospital ‘some problems’?” Olivia’s voice crackled through the speakerphone.

“It was only two,” Natalie responded. “And that was two too many even if the paramedics said the wounds were minor.”

“What happened?”

Natalie glanced at Miranda, who gave her a go–ahead shrug. “One of the guys was cleaning up the fermentation leak and connected a hose to the carbon dioxide valve instead of the water valve. The end result was two guys down after getting hit in the head with the hose.”

“Why do I have the feeling there’s more to this?” Olivia asked.

“Because there is.” Natalie surprised herself with the harsh certainty in her voice. “The valves were mislabeled.”

“Sloppy work?”

Miranda shook her head, as if Olivia could see her over the phone line. “We don’t think so.”

“Keep going,” Olivia drawled.

Natalie unfurled her pointer finger. “We’ve had deliveries get canceled when they shouldn’t be.” Her middle finger went up. “The fermentation tank leaked because someone tightened the bolt too much or whacked it.” A third upraised finger joined the other two. “Then the hose accident that sent Billy and Mike to the hospital.”

“So who’s got a hard–on for the Sweet Salvation Brewery’s failure?” Olivia asked.

“Not as many people as when Miranda first got here,” Natalie quipped. “But they’re still out there.”

“I wish I was there to help.” Something more than sisterly solidarity leant a bitterness to Olivia’s wistful tone.

Twins weren’t the only ones with that whole otherworldly–connection thing, and Natalie’s triplet alert was letting off a low–level vibration in the back of her head. Flighty and dramatic since birth, Olivia was the wild child of the three. The true Sweet who had never given a damn about what others thought—at least that was the image she projected. Still, something was off, Natalie was sure of it.

Wishing she was better at the touchy–feely stuff, she tried to figure out what to say to get Olivia to open up, but before she could, Miranda leaned in close to the phone’s speaker.

“You know we love you,” her sister said. “But there’s not much more that can be done than what we’re already doing.”

“Still…”

“Forget it, Olive Breath,” Miranda said, smiling as she used their baby sister’s most–hated nickname. “You just started a new job that doesn’t involve swimsuits in January while wearing feet–destroying stilettos. We’ll see you in two months for your vacation.”

Olivia giggled, the familiar sound silencing the warning bells in Natalie’s head. “Man, some days I wish I was still modeling. Taking off to come see you two whenever I wanted was so much easier.”