One
âThis place is a dump,â Byron Beaumont announced. His words echoed off the stone walls, making the submerged space sound haunted.
âDonât see it as it is,â his older brother Matthew said through the speaker in Byronâs phone. It was much easier for Matthew to call this one in, rather than make the long journey to Denver from California, where he was happily living in sin. âSee it as what it will be.â
Byron did another slow turn, inspecting the extent of the neglect as he tried not to think about Matthewâor any of his older brothersâbeing happily engaged or married. The Beaumonts hadnât been, until recently, the marrying kind.
Yet it hadnât been so long ago that heâd thought he was the marrying kind. And then it had all blown up in his face. And while heâd been licking his wounds, his brothersânormally workaholics and playboysâhad been pairing off with women who were, by all accounts, great for them.
Once again, Byron was the one who didnât conform to Beaumont expectations.
Forcibly, he turned his attention back to the space before him. The vaulted ceiling was arched, but the parts that werenât arched were quite low. Cobwebs dangled from everything, including the single bare lightbulb in the middle of the room, which cast deep shadows into the corners. The giant pillars supporting the arches were evenly spaced, taking up a huge amount of the floor. Inches of dust coated the low half-moon windows at eye level. What Byron could see of the outside looked to be weeds. And the whole space smelled of mold.
âAnd what will it be? Razed, I hope.â
âNo,â Byronâs oldest half brother, Chadwick Beaumont, said. The word was crisp and authoritative, which was normal for Chadwick. However, the part where he lifted his daughter out of his wifeâs arms and onto his shoulders so she could see better was not. âThis is underneath the brewery. It was originally a warehouse but we think you can do something better with it.â
Byron snorted. Yeah, right.
Serena Beaumont, Chadwickâs wife, stepped next to Byron so that Matthew could see her on the phone. âPercheron Drafts has had a great launch, thanks to Matthewâs hard work. But we want this brewery to be more than just a craft beer.â
âWe want to hit the old company where it counts,â Matthew said. âA large number of our former customers continue to be unhappy about how the Beaumont Brewery was sold away from our family. The bigger we can make Percheron Drafts, the better we can siphon off our old customers.â
âAnd to do that,â Serena went on in a sweet voice at direct odds with a discussion about corporate politics, âwe need to offer our customers something they cannot get from Beaumont Brewery.â
âPhillip is working with our graphic designer on incorporating his team of Percherons into all of the Percheron Draft marketing, but we have to be sensitive to trademark issues,â Chadwick added.
âExactly,â Matthew agreed. âSo our distinctive element canât be the horses, not yet.â
Byron rolled his eyes. He should have brought his twin sister, Frances, so he would have someone to back him up. He was being steamrollered into something that seemed doomed from the start.
âYou three have got to be kidding me. You want me to open a restaurant in this dungeon?â He looked around at the dust and the mildew. âNo. Itâs not going to happen. This place is a dump. I canât cook in this environment and thereâs no way in hell I would expect anyone to eat here, either.â He eyed the baby gurgling on Chadwickâs shoulder. âIn fact, Iâm not sure any of us should be breathing this air without HazMat masks. When was the last time the doors were even opened?â
Matthew looked at Serena. âDid you show him the workroom?â