They were interrupted as Jimmy arrived with a large brown bottle and two glasses, which he placed on the table between Patrick and Jack. Patrick quickly opened the bottle and held it out. “Smell.”
Jack put his nose close to the opening. “Sweet. A little grassy.”
“Very good.” Patrick poured the lager into two glasses, ensuring he poured into the center of the glass and not along the sides. An impressive head formed atop each glass. “Now swirl.”
As he’d done plenty of times, Jack picked up his glass and gently swirled the contents, agitating the beer. He’d learned from Patrick this unlocked the flavor and enhanced the aroma. He smelled it again. “Nice. It’s clean, not overpowering.”
“Wait until you taste it.” Patrick’s eyes shone with excitement, as they always did when discussing beer. He dipped his chin toward Jack’s glass. “It should be ready.”
Jack took a slow sip and held it, allowing the liquid to flow over every part of his tongue. It was delicious. Smooth, with lots of flavor. Was that caramel? The swallow was clean. Crisp. Well-balanced. Unlike anything he’d ever had.
He stared at the glass. There was nothing like this on the market. Not anywhere around here, at least. “What the hell is in here?”
“Do you like it?”
“Like it? It’s perfection. Sweet and dry, but flavorful. It’ll appeal to anyone, whether they like beer or not. How did you manage it?”
“A few things. Water from the Catskills along with two-row barley. Then we’ve imported the hops from Bohemia.”
Jack took a long draught. Christ, it just kept getting better. So much innovation in one small glass. “It is impressive, Patrick. If we hadn’t just missed the competition at the World’s Fair, I would have entered it.”
Patrick made a sound, always humble about his gift. “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“This is better than Pabst’s supposed blue ribbon winner, that’s for damn certain. Start bottling it.”
“Soon.” Patrick grinned and drank from his own glass. “I’m glad you like it. Now, you asked about my brother. Is that why you’re here?”
Patrick’s brother was Frank Tripp, brother-in-law to Justine Greene. Frank was one of the rarified individuals who could straddle both ends of Manhattan, having served as a lawyer to both the city’s uptown elite and downtown criminal class. “Partly. I was wondering if Frank had invited you to his fundraiser.”
“For the legal aid society?” At Jack’s nod, Patrick said, “Yes, though I have no desire to attend. Those types of events are more to my brother’s tastes than mine.”
“I would like you to go. I plan on attending.”
Patrick’s gaze widened, though he quickly recovered. “You realize it’s being held at the Metropolitan Opera House. If I know my sister-in-law, every blue-blooded snob in the city will be there.”
“I am counting on it, in fact. There is one snob who won’t receive me in his home. I hope to corner him at the event, however, and it would be helpful if you were there, as well.”
“Ah.” Patrick relaxed as he began to unravel what was left unsaid. “This is about Julius Hatcher, isn’t it?”
Jack hid his smile by taking another sip of the outstanding beer. A reclusive financial genius, Hatcher had fingers in almost every pie—including the brewery in which Jack now sat. Hatcher had invested a few years back, with Jack’s permission, and urged Patrick to take the beer national. They hadn’t been ready at the time, but Jack had been doing some math. The time was now ripe to brew, pasteurize and ship a national product. They just needed Hatcher’s buy-in.
They would get it, of course, but Hatcher would want to control the entire venture. Jack had no intention of allowing that to happen. If this went forward, it was under his leadership.
“He is your brother’s closest friend,” Jack said by way of answer.
“Do you really think we can pull it off? What about refrigeration?”
“Refrigerated train cars. Then we buy a railroad.”
Patrick whistled. “That sounds like a huge investment.”
“That is where Hatcher comes in.” Jack finished his glass and stood. “You just keep working. My job is to find ways to share your genius with the world. Together, we’re going to make a load of fucking money.”
“I like the sound of that. Incidentally, did my brother get you into the fundraiser?”
“No. I’m escorting his sister-in-law.”
“Florence?” Patrick nearly screeched the word. “Madden will skin you alive then set you on fire.”