Saving Grapes - Madeline Kirby Page 0,40

if you’re feeling self-conscious about it, I can wait until you’re as fresh and clean as makes you comfortable.”

“You must think I’m a prissy germaphobe.”

“I don’t. But if you’re not comfortable with something, I won’t do it. We just have to figure out each other’s boundaries. So, are you okay with it? In general, I mean.”

Thom nodded, embarrassed because he was blushing. Again.

“So maybe later, after dinner and a shower?”

Thom nodded again, “Y-yeah,” he stammered.

“Excellent. You want your beer now? Oh, and put your pants on, man! This is the kitchen for crying out loud.”

Chapter 14

“DID YOU hear that noise?” Thom asked, walking into the living room where Ben was sprawled on the sofa watching CSI reruns.

“What noise?” Ben put the television on mute. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“It sounded like glass breaking.”

Both men were silent for a few moments, listening, but the house was silent.

“Maybe it was my imagination.” Thom turned to head back to the office when they both heard it. It was a small popping and tinkling sound, and Ben knew immediately what it was.

“Crap!” He jumped up from the sofa and headed for the kitchen.

“What is it?” Thom followed him.

“The beer. Shit, where are the safety goggles?” Ben was in the mud room, rummaging in one of the cabinets.

“Here” Thom pulled two pairs of safety glasses from a bin and handed one to Ben. “What’s going on?”

“The bottles are exploding. I’ve got to check them, see if I can figure out why, and vent them before they all explode.”

Ben put on the glasses and started for the basement door.

“Wait!” Thom put a hand on Ben’s arm to stop him. “If there’s glass flying around down there we need more protection.” Thom went back to the bin and pulled out some leather gauntlet-style gloves, handing a pair to Ben. “Put your coat on, too,” he said, pulling his own heavy canvas jacket down from its hook and putting it on.

“Good idea,” Ben said, doing the same.

Ben flipped on the basement light and started down the stairs, Thom right behind him. They stopped at the bottom to survey the damage. There were chunks and shards of broken glass and puddles of beer on the floor near the corner where Ben had set up a storage area for the beer and brewing supplies.

“Looks like three bottles exploded.”

“Is this normal?”

“There’re a few reasons why it could happen. There could be some contamination, or it hadn’t finished fermenting, or we added too much sugar. Sometimes temperature can affect it, but that shouldn’t be a problem down here. Whatever it is, gasses are building up and making it explode.”

“Can it be saved?”

“If it’s not contamination, then probably, yeah.”

“How can we tell?”

Ben sniffed the air. “Smells like beer down here – that’s a good sign. I don’t smell anything sour or rotten. I’m going to go closer and get a bottle. Will you go up and get a bottle opener and a towel?”

“Okay.” Thom went back upstairs, and Ben crossed the concrete floor to where the bottled beer was stored on wooden shelves against the wall. Taking the big five-gallon stockpot down from the top shelf, he sat it on the floor and gingerly picked up one of the intact bottles and lowered it into the pot.

Thom returned with a church-key style bottle opener and a dishtowel. Ben took the towel, wrapped it around the bottle, and used the church-key to just barely loosen the bottle cap. When he heard a hissing noise, he stopped and waited. After a minute, he lifted the cap at another point, again waiting for the hissing noise to subside. Lifting the bottle from the stockpot, he stood and held it up to one of the bare lightbulbs hanging from a ceiling beam.

“Looks clear, doesn’t smell funky.” He sat the bottle on a table and finished opening it. “Still smells okay.” He took a taste.

“Well?”

“Tastes okay. I think we may have added too much sugar. I was experimenting with a new recipe,” Ben shrugged. “It happens.”

Thom went upstairs for another towel and bottle opener, and Ben started venting the bottles, taking them off the rack one at a time. After Ben initiated the release, Thom would carefully take each bottle to the table, where he would vent the bottle again. Working quickly, they soon had all thirty-six remaining bottles of that batch vented and were ready to reseal the caps.

They only had one bottle-capper, so while Ben resealed the bottles, Thom perched on a stool nearby and took a