But Marcy was also still encroaching on Jessica’s territory. She’d made a short video of the vineyard, even though Jess had scheduled a film crew to do just that. “I just thought it’d be good to have something now, while the season is really busy,” Marcy said during a staff meeting.
“Well, I’m not sure we need an amateur video when a professional crew is coming in July,” Jess countered. She’d chosen July for good reason; Blue Heron was hosting a hot air balloon festival, and the first haying was scheduled for that same week. The footage would be gorgeous.
“It’ll just be a placeholder,” Marcy said, dismissing Jess with a wave of her hand. “And listen, it’s pretty good for an amateur video! I kid you not! You might even want to save the moolah, Honor, and just stick with mine. Ah ha! Ah ha! Ah ha ha ha!”
It was hard to argue with Marcy without making herself seem petty. So Jess let it go, or tried to. Kept her head down and kept working, hoping it would be enough. She didn’t know how to work a crowd or promote herself. She didn’t really want to, either.
* * *
ON TUESDAY EVENING, she met Connor at Scoop, the ice-cream shop that had just opened on the green. It was his night off, and their fourth official date. Ice cream for dinner—a good start. They ate their cones—strawberry for her, chocolate fudge for him—and walked through the little downtown, past Lorelei’s, the antiques store, the new custom furniture place. Nice stuff in the window, Jess thought. The kind of stuff she’d buy for her house someday, graceful, sleek furniture made from beautiful grained wood. Probably cost a fortune.
Connor took her hand, and again, the strange, light thought came—This is what normal people do. He gave her a wry look, then licked his cone, and hello, did all men look this good eating ice cream?
“There’s an alley here if you want to do me,” he said. “But there are children around, so...”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she lied, smiling.
Happy. That’s what the feeling was. She was happy.
“I want to show you something,” he said. They went down Lake Street toward the park. Little kids were running around, covered in sand, shrieking as they splashed in the cool water of Keuka. Someone was cooking hot dogs, and sailboats skimmed past. A barking dog caught her eye. It looked like Blue, Faith and Levi’s dog, and sure enough, she saw the Coopers, Levi holding the baby, handsome in his uniform, Faith’s red hair catching the light. Faith waved, and Jess returned it.
Connor turned onto Liberty Street. Just a short distance from the park and lake was a little stone-and-wood building, a hundred yards or so from the last house on the street. For as long as Jess was aware, it had been abandoned. A few years ago, there’d been a fire there—she’d been on the call, in fact—and whoever owned the place had just let it sit empty. A few scrubby cedar and wild raspberry bushes grew in front of it, and the grass all around it was long, making it easy to miss.
“Right this way,” Connor said, leading her up to the wide doorway. That face of the building was wooden, and black from the fire. He opened the door, and the inside was similarly damaged. The floors were scorched, but the stone walls seemed sound, and the windows were arched. There was a fireplace on the western wall.
“Welcome to the home of O’Rourke Brewing,” he said.
“Get outta here! Really? Oh, Connor, I love it.” Her chest filled with a strange, sweet pressure, and she squeezed his hand, then hugged him. “Congratulations!”
He laughed. “I’ll have to do a good bit of renovating, but my brother-in-law’s a contractor, so he’ll help me. It used to be a storage building for Jacob Manning’s boat company back at the turn of the century. It hasn’t been used since the thirties. Then that fire a few years ago... Anyway, we just have to put in electric and plumbing. And stairs. And replace the door. And the floor. Great location, though.”
“Definitely. Where will the tanks go?”
“Upstairs. Down here will be eight or ten tables. We’ll serve a little food, just enough to get people to see how great a beer would be with dinner.”
She finished her cone and brushed her hands off on her skirt. “And where will you put the tasting bar?”
“Watch your step. The bar will face the lake, of course. I’ll have a little patio outside, sort of like an arbor. I’ll probably hire Faith for that. Once I get the investors on board, we’ll get started.”
She looked around. The building seemed sturdy; Connor wouldn’t have bought it if it wasn’t. “Zoning approval and all that came through?”
“Yep.”
Of course it did. He was an O’Rourke, half owner of the most successful restaurant on Crooked Lake, son of the man who owned most of downtown. And though Connor wasn’t showy, she knew he had money.
The familiar, small flash of envy flared briefly. Jessica couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have enough money to own a house, a booming business and still be able to invest in more.
He was watching her, and her chest ached again in the nicest way. “This is just great, Con.”
“Thank you. I have a question for you, by the way.”
Please don’t propose again. Her heart started thudding at the idea. She grabbed her thumb and twisted the ring. “Okay.”
He grimaced slightly. “I have four people coming in from Ithaca. Empire State Food and Beverage, this company that funds businesses like mine. I can basically show them your PowerPoint, but just the thought of talking to them makes me...sweaty. I was hoping you might do the presentation.”
“Sure! Sure, of course! I can take the afternoon off from work, more than likely. I have a ton of vacation time.” She was so relieved it wasn’t marriage, she almost laughed. “You have to be there, of course.”
“I’ll just sit quietly and look pretty.”
She grinned. “No, you’ll have to answer questions. But, yes, you can look pretty, too. Maybe get a haircut. Wear a suit.”
He came a little closer. “Thank you, Jessica Dunn.” A little closer. His eyes were on her mouth.
She took a step back, only to find the cool stone wall there. That was fine. She wasn’t going anywhere.
He cradled her face in his hands. “There’s this old Irish saying,” he murmured, pressing a light kiss on her lips, “that if you make love in a building that needs renovation...”
She started laughing. “A building that will become a brewery?”
Another kiss, and even better, because he was smiling now, too. “Yes, a building that needs renovation so it can be a brewery...if you can get a girl to take off her panties and she lets you do dirty things to her, then the business will be very, very blessed.”
“Who came up with this saying?” she laughed.
“Some Irish guy.”
“I want to see it in writing,” she said, and he was laughing now, too, low and rumbly, his clever hands already under her dress, skimming up to her thighs.
“I’ll show it to you later,” he whispered, and his fingers went higher, sliding inside her panties, and she was very glad for the wall behind her.
He knelt down. Oh, God.
“Far be it from me to stand in the way of your profitability,” she said, her breath shaking, and let him do what he wanted.