Running Through the Words, 5

Five.

Magnolia Fitzpatrick moved to Lake Caywood when she was eight years old, hung around for exactly one decade, and relocated to New York when she got accepted to Syracuse University to earn a degree in creative writing. After college, she found a position at a small literary agency in the Big Apple. She loves both her job and the never-ending energy of the city, but she also enjoys returning to the small Pennsylvania town she once called home.

She mostly loves it because of the people who still reside there, but the community itself is also a huge draw. Even now, driving down Main Street for probably the hundred millionth time in her life, a smile lights her face as her eyes dart from one establishment to the next. The town is in bloom! Doc Delaney has mandated the Tavern’s window boxes be planted with red geraniums, orange-hued petunias, and—as a homage to the restaurant’s famous sweet potato fries—sweet potato vines that spill over the edges of their containers and cascade toward the sidewalk. Whirligigs and Whatnots, the local art supply store, has painted its glass doors with Georgia O’Keeffe-esque poppies; Bottomless Joe’s has positioned giant pots adorned with mottled coleus, the textured leaves smudged haphazardly with pinks and greens, at the base of its porch steps. Hanging baskets, maintained by a community gardening club, embellish each lamp post lining the road, newly planted asters, nasturtium, and creeping Jenny nestled in the soil.

Sycamore Drive is also bursting with new growth. Sunny daffodils, cheerful tulips, and elegant irises flourish in every garden. Someone’s magnolia tree has blossomed, perfuming the neighborhood with a subtle sweetness, and the maple in front of the Campbells’ home boasts an abundance of fresh greenery. The stone cottage at the end of the road, isolated and shaded by the many trees surrounding it, manages a few pops of color as well: impatiens line the path to the front door, feathery ferns dot the garden in front of the porch, and various coleus perch in pots on the steps. Nol notices all of it as she steers her Prius into the driveway and throws it into park. She’ll worry about her bags later. For now, she grabs her purse, scoops up the small cooler resting on the passenger’s seat, and hustles toward the door. It swings open before she has a chance to ring the bell.

“Oh my gosh!” she squeals when she sees Lucy’s shorn appearance. “It looks so good! Bas told me you were rocking the bald head, but I had no idea you were rocking it this well. You look stunning!”

A flush creeps into the other woman’s cheeks at the unexpected compliment. “Thanks, Nol. It’s taken some getting used to, but I actually really like it. I think it’ll be good for summer, you know?” Lucy holds her arms open and Nol steps into them, allowing herself to be enfolded. “I’m so glad you’re here! Bas is with Bert, but he should be home any minute. I think he was gonna stop for beer on his way back.”

“Oh! I brought some,” Magnolia notes, drawing attention to the cooler clutched in her right hand. “An IPA from this new brewery not far from my apartment. I think you’ll like it. Wanna have one now while we wait for Bas?”

“Absolutely!”

Lucy leads the way to the kitchen and retrieves a bottle opener from a drawer. Nol hands her the six-pack and leans against the counter, opting to stand rather than perch on one of the barstools. She’s been sitting for the past six hours; she needs to stretch.

Since moving back into the Porter residence and reclaiming it as their own, Sebastian and Lucy have painted the home’s interior and replaced much of the furniture. The walls have been coated with a dusky teal and adorned with vibrant artwork. The countertops, once an off-white Formica, are now a silvery granite. Original pottery—created by Lucy, no doubt—is everywhere: a dirty mug in the sink, a bowl of fruit on the table, a pitcher of iced tea on the counter. Magnolia sighs. Despite the many changes, the room still carries such an air of familiarity. She spent a good chunk of her childhood here, after all, moving in at the age of ten and staying until right after her high school graduation. This cozy stone cottage will always hold a special place in her heart.

“So tell me what’s new,” Lucy instructs, sliding an IPA into her guest’s hand before rummaging in the pantry for something to snack on. She unearths a tin of cashews and pairs them with some sharp cheddar and kalamata olives hidden in a drawer in the refrigerator. “Are you dating anyone? How’s agent life? Bas is going to expect some new book recommendations, you know.”

“I know. He always does. I brought a list this time.” She laughs and takes a sip of her beer. “No new love interests, but work is good. I’m slowly building my own list of authors, and I love reading the stories they’ve brought to life, but… I miss writing.”

“That makes sense.” Lucy lifts herself onto the counter and sits with her heels bouncing lightly against a cupboard door. “Could you write your own book and represent yourself?”

Nol shrugs. “I probably could, yeah… but the bigger problem is that an idea hasn’t made itself real to me yet. I mean, don’t get me wrong: I’ve got a thousand fragmented ideas bouncing around my head every minute of every day. None of them are whole, though. They’re just… little wisps of a plotline, or a funny comment made by a character, or two adjectives that I’d like to pair together when describing the way a rainstorm sounds. Stuff like that. There’s no solidity to the ideas. There’s no substance.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Nol agrees, appreciative that Lucy has voiced the solitary syllable because she has to hope that at some point, an idea will waltz out of the shadows of her mind and introduce itself to her. She has to hope she’s not completely out of stories. Before she can thank her friend for the small-but-powerful word, though, the front door swings open and Sebastian is ambling into the kitchen, a growler in one hand and his car keys in the other. He sets both items on the table and opens his arms to Nol, wrapping her in the tightest hug imaginable and holding her for what seems an eternity. “I missed you, almost-sis,” he whispers into her hair. “How the hell are you?”

Magnolia laughs and pulls away, turning her gaze upward to observe his hairless head.

“What d’you think?” he asks, rubbing a hand over his scalp. “I don’t wear it as well as Lucy, but I can pull it off alright, yeah?”

“For sure. I’m glad you kept the beard.”

“Bert asked me to.”

“How is he?”

Bas lifts his shoulders and relocates the growler to the counter. Then he fetches three glasses and pours some of the hazy brew into each of them. “He’s alright. Just… feeling kinda shitty today. Physically, I mean. He goes in for chemo each Wednesday morning, sleeps a lot for the rest of the day, generally does okay on Thursday, but is usually nauseous on Friday. Today’s Friday, so…” He distributes the beers, oblivious to the fact that the women are now double-fisting, and continues, “I swung by the Brewhaha on my way to his place and picked up some minestrone.”

“He ate some?” Lucy confirms.

“He did, yeah. And he managed to keep it down.”

“Is someone staying with him tonight?”

Bas nods. “Finn’s over there now.”

“Okay, good.”

Magnolia had of course been made aware of Bert Robinson’s diagnosis, but until listening to Bas and Lucy speak about his treatment and symptoms, the magnitude of what he’s dealing with hadn’t hit home. A stone of sadness settles in the pit of her stomach and she attempts to drown it with another drink. She samples the new beer she’s been given, pleasantly surprised by the subtle sweetness and fruity tang. “Wow… this is delicious.”

Sebastian walks over to stand near his girlfriend, his elbow knocking comfortably against her knee as he leans against the counter. “Right? It’s another ‘Goode creation’ from the Brewhaha. Orange You Glad IPA, I think is what Petey said he named it. When it comes to beer, that guy sure does know what he’s doing.”

“So, wait. What’s this place called? The Brewhaha?” Magnolia has heard it mentioned before, but she’s not been there to experience it for herself.

“We’ve never taken you there?” Lucy asks now. “You’d love it!”

Nol shakes her head. “We always eat at the Tavern when I come to town. Or order pizza from Luigi’s. How long has the Brewhaha been around?”

“Oh… maybe three or four years,” Sebastian answers. “We can go there tonight if that’s what you wanna do. I don’t mind visiting that place twice in one day. Whatever Addy was cookin’ back there in the kitchen smelled amazing, so I’m game for giving it a try.”

“Me too,” Lucy agrees. “We always seem to forget about the Brewhaha.”

Nol tilts her head in wonderment, her glossy hair spilling over her shoulder. “How come?”

“I guess because the Tavern and Luigi’s and just about everything else is within walking distance, but the Brewhaha is out there on Copper Drive. It’s a big ol’ farmhouse with a lot of rooms, and a lot of rumors.”

“Roomors,” Bas chuckles softly, more to himself than to the women.

Lucy swats him and rolls her eyes.

“What kind of rumors?” Nol queries. “Is it haunted?”

“Nah.” Sebastian shakes his head and takes a long swig of his beer. “I’ve never heard anyone mention ghosts. It’s more like… the farmhouse’s floor plan is wonky.”

“Wonky? How so?”

“Like, the rooms shift around. They come and go at random.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I know.” He shrugs and gives her a mischievous smile. “But it happens.”

“You’ve seen it happen?”

“Just once. Lucy was there. Remember?” He nudges her with his elbow, this time intentionally. “It was New Year’s Eve—the same year they opened—and the owner hosted a big party. The band and I played a set or two in this very cool room with a piano. I know there was a piano because I actually played the piano that night… but the piano is not always there. Neither is the room the piano was in.”

“Bas…”

He holds up both hands, as if to ward off her disbelief. “It sounds crazy, I know, but I’m telling you the truth! If you don’t believe me, just ask—” He cuts himself off mid-sentence. A smug smile flits across his lips and a playful twinkle lights his pale eyes. “If you don’t believe me,” he says again, this time more slowly, “just ask Juli Singer. He’ll tell you.”

Magnolia does her best to mask her embarrassment with an annoyed scowl, but she can feel her cheeks growing warm. There had been a time in her life, back during her early years as a teen, when her lust for Julian Singer had occupied much of her brain space. Now and again, her mother had hired him to fix or install something around the house, and whenever that happened, Nol had made it a point to be home. She’d swooned over the silver hoop he’d worn in his lip, and the lopsided grin he often sported while listening to her chatter incessantly about drama at school or stories she was writing. Their six-year age difference had prevented her adoration from becoming anything more than a crush, but the crush she’d had on Juli had been unlike any other. Despite this, it’s been a long time since she’s thought of the handsome handyman who used to complete odd jobs around this very cottage. “Is he still in the area?” she asks now, the question more eager than she’d like it to sound.

Bas fixes her with a knowing look. “He is.”

“Alright, but… why would he know so much about the rumors behind the Brewhaha?”

“I guess you’ll just have to ask him, won’t you?”

“Sebastian…” she groans.

“Magnolia…” he counters, and then drains his beer, glances back and forth from one woman to the other, and asks, “So? Should we get something to eat or what?”

🍁

Bas drives. Lucy piles into the back so Nol can ride shotgun, which provides her a clear view of the Brewhaha as they bump down the long, gravel path leading past a pond, an orchard, and eventually a large barn. Its coloring is a faded russet and one of its broad expanses—the side first visible to approaching customers—has been painted with artistic, bold lettering: “The Brewhaha. Good beer and good times.” The hues of the words are reminiscent of those found in nature, incorporating various shades of golds, greens, and blues. Magnolia smiles, already impressed by the ambience, and then her gaze redirects itself to the brewery itself.

It is, just as Lucy stated, “a big ol’ farmhouse.”

The wood siding boasts a fresh coat of paint, brilliantly white against the dappled seafoam green of the aged copper roof. An ancient cherry tree, gnarled and knobby-limbed, slouches not far from the front porch. Magnolia’s breath catches in her throat because there is something magical about this setting. Not simply because of the establishment’s unusual history, but because Nol can feel something igniting inside her. There’s something familiar about her surroundings, which makes little sense seeing as it’s her first time visiting the Brewhaha. “This is…” she begins, but can’t think how to finish the sentence.

“This is it,” Bas provides for her, pulling the Jeep into an available spot and shutting off its engine. “One of Lake Caywood’s finest. You ready to give it a try?” He pulls the key from the ignition, pockets it in his jeans, and exits the vehicle. “Come on.”

The women follow as he leads the way across the lawn and climbs the steps to the front door, waving at a couple relaxing on the porch swing and then sharing pleasantries with a woman who holds the door for him. It’s these natural exchanges that Nol misses about small-town life. Unless she plans to bump into someone in New York City, she generally doesn’t, and so it makes her happy to observe the easy interactions her almost-brother has as he strides across the Brewhaha’s kitchen and claims a section at the bar running between the public’s portion of the farmhouse and the area reserved for employees. He pulls out a seat for Magnolia and motions for her to sit. Then he does the same for Lucy, standing beside her so he can face both of his girls at the same time.

Judging from the parking lot, business is booming this evening, but Nol is surprised to find that empty seats at the bar and empty tables in the dining room still exist. She glances around, taking in her surroundings. A wide entryway on the far side of the room seems to open onto a large space with ample windows. Rather than tables and chairs, the furniture housed within those four walls is much like that found inside any other living room: couches and coffee tables and upholstered chairs.

On the other side of the bar, working, a young man with dark hair glances over and nods in acknowledgement. “You’re back,” he says simply, sauntering closer. “A growler wasn’t enough, huh?”

“Of Petey’s beer?” Bas confirms. “Nah… A growler’s never enough.” He laughs and flashes his eyes in Nol’s direction, saying, “Addy, this is my sister Magnolia. And you already know Lucy.”

“I do, yeah… and I’m not gonna lie: when Bas mentioned you’d shaved your head too, I was surprised, but it looks good.” He offers a smile that reveals zero teeth, then turns to face Nol. “Nice to meet you, Magnolia. I didn’t realize Bas had a sister.”

“It’s complicated,” Nol hears herself saying. “His dad almost married my mom.”

“Ahh… Gotcha.” Addy makes it a point to catch the eye of each of the trio’s members as he asks, “So, can I start you guys off with something to drink?”

Three pints of Orange You Glad are requested, and as he pulls them, Bas explains to Nol, “Addy’s what you might call a culinary wizard. The dishes he concocts are delicious.”

“Are you the head chef?” Nol wonders, wrapping both hands around the glass placed in front of her. There’s a tree of life etched on it, with a tangle of roots and a bountiful mix of fruit hanging from its branches above. Apples, pears, cherries, and more are represented. “You look so young!”

A sad sort of pride glistens in Addy’s eyes. “I’m the owner, actually. And the head chef. But Petey does the brewing and Juli handles just about everything else. I couldn’t do it without them. Running this place is definitely a team effort.”

“Juli Singer works here?” Nol can feel Sebastian watching her, but she chooses to ignore him.

“I mean,” Addy says, “he’s technically still got his own business doing odd jobs for folks around town, but these days most of his time is spent here. He and Petey are in the barn right now, I think, working on some sorta berry-infused sour or something.” He shrugs. “I don’t really like sours so I didn’t pay much attention.” He sets the third and final beer in front of Bas, saying, “I’ll grab you some menus, but before I do… I wanna recommend the beer-battered asparagus fries. It’s not the healthiest way to prepare a vegetable, but it’s damn good.”

“Sounds amazing,” Bas says.

“Can we start with an order of those?” Lucy requests. “To split?”

“I’m on it,” Addy assures her. “You won’t regret it.” He darts away, returns a moment later with a stack of three menus, and disappears for a second time to resume meal prep for the Friday-night crowd. In his absence, Nol scans the simplistic listing of available meals. By no means is the selection vast—five different appetizers, one type of soup, and two interesting desserts—but everything sounds absolutely delectable. Her mouth begins to water just reading about the chicken and beet chutney sliders that are topped with locally grown arugula, blue cheese crumbles, and a drizzle of balsamic reduction. “How have you never brought me here before?” she asks accusingly of her family members. “This place is amazing!”

“I forget about it,” Lucy says apologetically. “It’s so out of the way.”

“I want to try everything. It all sounds so good!”

Bas looks amused. “You’d better get started then. The menu changes constantly.”

“Weekly?”

“More like daily. Addy makes what he feels like making,” He raises his glass to his lips and gives his almost-sister a wink. “You might end up getting fat this week.”

Nol laughs and Lucy taps the menu with a finger. “We could order a smorgasbord and share,” she suggests. “That way you’d get to try at least a few of the options. I’d be up for splitting an order of these crab cake bites… and maybe the shrimp kabobs?”

“You guys decide. I’ll eat whatever,” Bas says, even though he avoids red meat and isn’t crazy about peas. Nol is aware of this, though, and will keep the dietary preferences in mind when mapping out the trio’s culinary course of action. She turns her full attention to the menu and therefore doesn’t notice when Sebastian raises a hand in greeting at someone entering through the front door.

She only becomes aware of the newcomer’s presence, in fact, because he strolls over to where the group is sitting and comes to rest right beside her. “Magnolia Fitzpatrick. Long time, no see. When did you get back in town?”

“About two hours ago,” she says, amazed at her ability to rattle off the answer so smoothly. This tall, lean man with his worn baseball cap and kind eyes causes something in her chest to quicken. He’s always had this effect on her, for as long as she can remember. Willing her heart to slow, she forces an intake of air and asks as casually as possible, “How are you, Juli?”

His mouth forms a lopsided grin as he reaches up to tug at that silver hoop looped through his bottom lip. “Not bad,” is his simple response. “Busy. And you? Are you just here for a quick visit, or are you sticking around?”

“I’m here for a week. My beach plans fell through, so I’m vacationing at the lake instead.” She reaches for her beer and hopes Juli doesn’t notice the tremble in her hand or the schoolgirl enthusiasm in her voice. “We were actually talking about you a little while ago,” she says, bringing Lucy and Sebastian into the conversation. “I was asking about the history of the Brewhaha. Bas tells me you’re the one with all the answers. And now that I’m here, experiencing it for the first time—”

“This is your first time?” Juli cuts in, obviously surprised by the admission. “Jeez…”

“Right? But I love it! I have so many questions!”

“What she needs is a bonafide tour,” Bas contributes, taking on the role of wingman without being asked. He has no idea whether the handyman is open to the idea of a new relationship, but he does realize that unless Nol takes a chance, she’ll never find out. “She hasn’t made it past the bar yet. Think you could show her around?”

“I could,” Juli acknowledges, “but a Friday night isn’t the best time to check out the house. How about tomorrow morning before we open? Would that work?”

Nol’s cheeks take on a rose-colored hue as she meets Juli’s twinkling eyes. “Sure,” she agrees. “Tomorrow morning sounds great.”

“Can you meet me here around nine? Just come to the front door and knock. One of us’ll let you in. Either Addy, Petey, or me.”

“Yep, I can do that.”

“Alright. Then I’ll see you in the morning.” He flashes one last crooked smile in her direction, lifts a hand in farewell to Bas and Lucy, and moseys away. Nol watches him go, observing the slight sway of his hips and the way the fabric of his cotton shirt stretches across his shoulders. “Maybe pass her a napkin,” Sebastian playfully suggests to Lucy. “I think she might be drooling.”

Nol ignores his teasing, but does turn to address her almost-brother. “Did you just score me a date with Juli Singer?” she asks, her voice full of wonder. “Is that what just happened? Or am I totally misinterpreting the situation?”

Sebastian laughs. “Call it whatever you want. The bottomline? You’re getting the tour you wanted with the tour guide you wanted, which I’d say is a win-win.”

“I’d call it a date,” Lucy says. “If you’d seen the way he was looking at your mouth… It’s definitely a date. He wants to kiss you.” She leans into her boyfriend and wraps an arm around his waist. “Bas always stares at my mouth when he wants to kiss me.”

“By that logic, I’d spend my entire life staring at your mouth,” he observes, and then he leans down to brush his lips over hers.

Magnolia turns away from the lovebirds and rolls her eyes. “Sometimes the two of you are disgusting,” she grumbles. “Disgustingly adorable.”