ran the length of the north wall. Behind it was a weathered edge, ledge stone wall with glass shelves housing decorative and collective beer bottles by the hundreds—some of the names I recognized, many I didn’t.
There was a long line of beer taps all with fancy name tags of the beers they brewed on-site. On the south wall, a huge glassed-off section that looked down into the brewing room where lines of brew kettles sat in neat rows. A sign boasted, “Tours on appointment only.”
Now this I could get on board with. I wished Christian was with me. He would have appreciated the selection as much as I did. We would have talked about the complex components of each beer and rated them on our personal Ale Scale, as we called it. There was nothing better than kicking back with a variety of new brews.
Choosing a seat near the window, I studied their menu that was posted on a long chalkboard behind the bar. Remembering the woman at the lodge and her suggestion of a sampler tray, I decided to go with that to see what I enjoyed.
The waitress was a lean, fit woman with an eyebrow piercing and a tattoo on her neck. She was dressed in black, and her makeup and hair were bold and goth-like. “You must be an outsider,” she said, scanning me head to toe with a smirk, smacking her gum in a way that rose my hackles. “All fancied up in a suit.” She huffed a laugh. “I’m going to guess you’re here for business. Hm… from Edmonton. Am I right? What are you in town for? You don’t look like a vacationer. Those people stand out like a sore thumb.”
Ignoring the inquisition, I asked, “How many with the sampler?”
Her friendly demeanor fell away, and her personality shifted to something more suitable. “Six with the small sampler. It consists of six of our most popular brews. We have a full round that sports all twelve if you’re interested. It’s not on the board. It costs—”
“That one. I don’t care what it costs. I don’t want food, so don’t ask.” I adjusted my seat and gazed out the window, dismissing her.
She went with an audible huff. I wasn’t there to share pleasantries or personal backstories with some chick whose job was solely to bring me food and beverages. Another small town thing that annoyed me. Everyone wanted to talk and learn your business. I missed the anonymity of the city. People didn’t pester you. They ignored you and went about their day.
As I waited for my sampler, a commotion across the street caught my attention. A group of kids, teen boys who looked to be around fifteen or sixteen, kicked over a large decorative metal trash can as they strolled down the sidewalk. It hit the ground with a clatter and rolled into the street as garbage scattered in its wake. They howled and picked up their pace.
A man barreled out of a shop and shouted at them, but they carried on their way, laughing and giving the old man the finger.
“Windsor needs to do something about those hooligans. Summer vacation hasn’t even started yet and look at them. Nothing but nonsense,” came a woman’s voice a few tables from me.
I glanced around and saw two older women staring out the window, watching the commotion as well. It was the one facing me who’d spoken. She had on a tacky knitted sweater in a clashing assortment of colors. Her lipstick was vibrant mauve, and her silver brown hair was in a tight bun that stretched the skin beside her eyes. Her angry, narrowed eyes.
“I heard they were the ones responsible for the broken fencing out at Erwin’s last week. Windsor couldn’t prove it, so he couldn’t do anything about it, but it was them. Mark my words,” she continued.
The waitress arrived at that moment and placed two long wooden boards on the table in front of me, each with six small samplers of ale in a range of colors from light amber to dark russet red. They were fitted into little carved grooves so they wouldn’t wobble.
The waitress didn’t say a word to me, turning her back and placing her hands on her hips as she too watched the teens disappear down the road. “Calvin Horton told me the broken fence was the older Gilbert boy. The little one’s always hanging around the stables.”
Ugly Sweater’s face lit up as she considered this new piece of