The increased briskness in the air wasn’t surprising, given the bar’s proximity to the river. Set apart from other occupied land by several acres on both sides, Brothers Brewery was located inside an oversized log cabin, like something you’d see in When Calls the Heart on the Hallmark Channel, or Virgin River. The correct name would be Brothers’ Brewery, but I assumed no one in the family was a grammarian. Several overturned tables, which I guessed had been used for outdoor seating when it had been warmer, leaned against the side exterior of the building. I took some pictures, laughing to myself at the contrast from the city, where no business owner would leave anything outside unless having it stolen was the goal.

I envisioned a rustic interior with communal tables where all the townspeople came to celebrate proposals and promotions; cry over divorces, infidelities, and other setbacks; commiserate over the daily stresses of life; and generally be there for each other in good times and bad. My mouth watered in anticipation of quality, locally brewed beer with hints of apricot, blueberry, or honey.

I pressed my ear to the door and heard nothing. But for a YOU’RE THIRSTY, WE’RE OPEN sign in the window, I’d have thought it was closed. It was probably just a quiet day, being a Sunday night and all. Either that or the solid wood foundation kept sound from seeping outside. There was only one way to find out. I ran a hand through my hair, let out a deep exhale, and entered.

My eyes immediately narrowed into a squint. It was dark, like there was no electricity, and no one had bothered to light a candle or a kerosene lamp. Instead of the scent of spicy hops or malty grains, my nostrils filled with dust.

“Achoo.” The sound echoed off the walls, making it seem like I’d sneezed twice.

“God bless you.”

“Thank you,” I said, struggling to locate the source of the blesser. As my eyes acclimated to the dark, I spotted Finn, the hot guy from the B&B, sitting at a long bar in the back of the room. He’d swiveled his stool to face me. I waved.

“You didn’t waste time finding the bar.” He chuckled and patted the empty spot next to him.

“That’s how I roll.” I hopped onto the stool and skimmed the place, now that I could see better.

A few spots away, a man was either meditating or fast asleep, his torso slumped over the bar. Depressing. Two women at a small table clinked their mugs and burst out laughing. That’s more like it. Otherwise the place was empty, aside from a young guy with long hair rinsing pilsner glasses in soap suds behind the bar and another young guy with even longer hair counting money a few feet away from him. “Are these the famous brothers?” I asked out loud.