Page 58 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

HANNAH

Just over a month has passed since Travis signed those papers, and oh, what a month…

Lilah took Ollie on a single outing before flitting off to Florida, where she officially joined the cast for Dr. Lovin’ Boat .

It’s going to film next spring, and we’ll be graced with its hot garbage nonsense in the fall.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t plan on watching every last episode with Sophie and Briar.

(Travis wants no part of it, but he agrees it’s probably a good idea for one of us to keep an eye on it.)

I’ve slowly phased out of official nannying, but I still pick up Ollie after school on Fridays to go on adventures—and I stay over at their place at least three times a week.

I’d be there more often, honestly, but I’m giving Travis and Ollie space to figure out their relationship.

It’s been beautiful to watch. They play music together, they’ve plotted out a garden for the spring, and apparently they’re conspiring about what to get me for Christmas.

I’m so proud of Travis that I’ve become one of those women who talks about her boyfriend all the time. I’d slap myself if I weren’t so happy .

The three of us went to Boston for Thanksgiving, and I introduced Travis and Ollie to Connor and my dad, who instantly asked if they wanted to make beer with him. Like, as soon as they walked through the door of my dad’s condo. All of the supplies were already sitting out too.

Travis looked like he was suffering instant and crippling constipation, so I explained that my dad was just messing with him and is willing to go very far with a joke.

“Oh, so that’s where she gets it from,” Travis said. My dad got him a beer and clapped him on the back, and that was that. They were fast friends, which made my heart happy.

When we got home from the trip, Travis and Ollie made me dinner and then asked if I wanted to revive the Moroney Movers and Shakers with the two of them, saying my brothers and dad had all given them permission to carry the family torch.

I said yes , obviously.

Our first performance is going to be at a Christmas market next weekend.

In addition to this very important new band gig, I just accepted a job as the daytime floor manager at Big Catch.

When the woman I’m replacing quit, Eugene called me before the door hit her ass on the way out.

Everyone knows the daytime shift is dull as dirt, but I love this brewery, and the hours are better for spending time with my guys.

So I accepted, even though I’m wary of stepping back into my old role with Liam.

He’s already in Travis’s band—temporarily, at least—and as much as I love my brother, I don’t want to slip back into codependence.

But that’s something I can worry about next week, when I start.

It’s Sunday afternoon, the day of the big holiday staff party Eugene and I have been planning for weeks, between his many dates with Mrs. Applebaum .

Speaking of Mrs. Applebaum—those two are madly in love, and I don’t at all mind taking credit for it.

The other day, when Eugene and I were power walking through The Waiting Place, something we do on purpose now, he told me he was thinking of getting a promise ring for her.

“Come on, Eugene,” I said, halting. “Promise rings are for kids who don’t know the joy of getting into each other’s pants.”

He harrumphed and told me I just didn’t get it.

I don’t, but I’m still happy for him.

Travis and I agreed that a staff party at a brewery, Christmas themed or not, is not a great place for a kid, so Ollie is staying over at Dottie’s tonight. But Travis, Liam, Sophie, Rob, Eugene, and a couple more recruits are here getting the place ready for the shindig.

Briar was supposed to help out too, but she’s late.

Briar’s never late.

Then again, she’s definitely going through something.

She picked two Silver Star staffers to fire at the end of last month, and her father informed her that she had to do it before the holidays.

She refused, and he responded by telling the staff they weren’t getting their holiday bonuses, and that Briar was to blame.

I glance at the door a fourth time as I set down another of the table decorations Sophie made—gorgeous arrangements of dried flowers in decorative gourds.

“Maybe there’s traffic,” Sophie suggests as Travis adjusts the mistletoe he hung on the lighthouse for the tenth time.

“For the love of God, Travis…” Liam mutters, which only prompts Travis to move it again, this time with a smirk on his face that almost makes me laugh.

“She is a very sensible driver,” I tell Sophie.

“More young women should be,” Eugene says, glancing up from the spreadsheet he’s reviewing on his iPad two tables away .

“Very funny, Eugene. You think five over is a crime?—”

“It is, technically speaking,” he says, just as Travis sputters a laugh.

“Five miles over?” my guy smirks at me. “I wish.”

I defend my honor, and we all laugh. But as the minutes tick past and there’s still no sign of Briar, Sophie and I start to really worry.

We worry more as people start trickling in, and then gushing in.

I introduce Eugene’s son, Cormac, to Travis and Liam, and all three of them instantly launch into a discussion of some band I’ve never heard of and have no interest in.

So I pick my way over to Sophie and Rob, who are drinking Liam’s gingerbread beer and talking in undertones.

I point my thumb at the guys. “They’re having a music discussion, Rob. I think that means your presence is mandatory.”

He laughs. “Is this your way of getting rid of me?”

“Maybe.”

He starts saying something but cuts off abruptly and gestures to the front entrance. I look over as Briar enters the bar without a coat, dressed in a short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans.

Sophie and I hurry over, nearly knocking into Eugene and Mrs. Applebaum, who are making out under some of the mistletoe Travis hung. They barely seem to notice as we charge past them to get to our friend.

As I get closer, I can see Briar is trembling and her eyes are red-rimmed.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Sophie asks as I tug Briar away from the door.

“Wait,” I say. “She’ll want to tell us somewhere private.”

I lead Briar toward the back, grabbing a Big Catch sweatshirt off the merch shelf on the way back and handing it to her. She takes it but doesn’t put it on. She’s still shaking, and after I open the door to the back room, I nudge her through.

Sophie follows us in, shutting the door, and the noise from the party becomes a muted murmur. I dress Briar in the sweatshirt as if she’s a child, and Sophie gently tugs Briar’s long hair out from under the back of it so it’s not trapped.

“What happened?” I ask again, leading her over to a picnic table that’s kept back here. She practically falls onto it.

“I did it. I fired them this morning, because my dad said that if I didn’t, he’d carry through on his original threat and fire three other people.

And then my dad …” She wraps her arms around herself, trembling harder even though she must be physically warm now.

“He gave me Silver Star Brewery. He said it was my Christmas present.” She pauses. “It’s mine.”

She starts laughing, but there isn’t a hint of amusement in it.

Sophie and I exchange worried looks.

“Right, I’m going to get you a drink,” Sophie says.

She hurries off while I rub Briar’s arm, but Briar just keeps laughing so I give her a light tap on the cheek. “You need to stop that and tell us what happened.”

The laughter cuts off, and she looks up at me, her soft brown eyes filled with tears. “I messed up so bad, Hannah. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“None of us know what we’re doing,” I say, rubbing her arm again. “You’re going to be fine. You’re going to kick ass.”

“You don’t understand,” she says as Sophie hurries in, carrying a bottle of?—

“Seriously, peach schnapps?” I say as I take it from her.

She shrugs and hands out the paper cups she brought with it. “Eugene had it in his desk. My aunt gave a bottle to everyone in the Wise Elders Group as an early Christmas present.”

Yes, peach schnapps, the gift that keeps on giving .

I uncap it and fill Briar’s cup practically to the brim.

She takes a gulp, flinches—understandable—and then says, “Everyone quit. Everyone. They all walked out while playing ‘You Better Watch Out’ over the speakers.” She releases a jagged sob. “They hate me. No one’s ever hated me like that since boarding school.”

Sophie and I exchange knowing looks before Sophie says, “Of course they don’t.”

It’s a sweet lie, to which I add a dash of truth. “They don’t hate you , Briar. They hate this person your dad’s made you out to be for the past few months. That person’s a lie.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. How am I supposed to run a brewery without a staff? I…I went along with my dad’s tough-love nonsense because that’s what I’ve always done—fallen into line—and I figured I could fix everything once I took over, but now…”

I stroke her hair. “So when you’re saying everyone quit…”

Silver Star is a much smaller outfit than either Big Catch Brewing or Buchanan Brewery, but that’s still a lot of people to replace.

“ Everyone . All twenty. The brewer was the first to go. He told me I was never going to make it. That no brewer in their right mind was going to work for me or anyone in my family. He said he was going to put the word out to make sure of it.”

Crap, he pulled a Rachel.

“I’ll work for you,” I blurt. “I’ll tell them I can’t take the job here. It’s fine. I haven’t even started yet.”

But Briar’s already shaking her head. “The daytime manager position here is perfect for you. If you don’t take it because of me, I’ll be miserable. Please, Hannah.”

“My cousin,” Sophie says. “Our crafting business is still only part time. He’ll work for you. I’m sure he’ll want to. ”

“Thanks, Sophie,” Briar says sadly, but she knows what I do—a brewery isn’t a brewery without a brewer.

A brewer.

That’s when it dawns on me…