After a while, she’d found an empty conference room, where she sat and studied the judges’ guidelines again. Then she pored over the official program, highlighting the seminars she hoped to attend during the week. As she got up to leave, four brewpub owners walked in and she ended up having a spirited conversation with them about the industry and everything that was good and bad about it. Maggie had walked out in a cheery mood, feeling as though she was on her way to becoming part of a warm, friendly community.
As she had approached the escalator, another man joined her, grinning as they both stepped on the moving stairway at the same time.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“Yes, I am,” Maggie said as she studied him briefly. He was nice looking in a passive, nonthreatening way. “I’m Maggie Jameson.”
“Nice to meet you, Maggie.” He gave her hand a hearty handshake. “I’m Ted Blake. I haven’t seen you around the festival before. Are you in the business or just visiting?”
“This is my first time at the festival. I run my own microbrewery and I’ve entered some of my beers in the competition.”
“How many workers do you have?”
She was a little taken aback by the direct question, but then figured he was just making friendly conversation. After all, they were all here to share information and grow the industry. “I’m it, for now.”
“That’s got to be hard.”
“I enjoy it.”
“What about your sales force?”
She frowned a little. “It’s just me.”
“Huh.” He handed her a business card. “When you get tired of doing all the heavy lifting by yourself, give me a call.”
She stared at his card, then looked up as they reached the main floor and stepped off the escalator. At that moment, Maggie noticed a pretty brunette staring fiercely at her from a booth a few yards away. The woman looked vaguely familiar—and she continued to glare directly at Maggie. Maggie was so surprised by the angry frown directed at her that she couldn’t look away. After another long moment, the brunette tossed her hair back and turned away.
What in the world was that all about?
Nonplussed, Maggie glanced at her momentary companion. “It was nice meeting you, Ted.”
“Hey, don’t rush off,” he cajoled.
But Maggie was desperate to spend a few minutes alone. “Sorry, but I’m meeting someone.”
Now, as she sipped her vanilla latte by the wide plate-glass window, she tried to shake off the irritation she still felt from that woman’s odd reaction to her.
Beyond the patio terrace and swimming pool area, the picturesque Point Cairn Marina bustled with activity. The small port had started life as a fishing village, and fishing was still a staple of the region. Fishing boats chugged their way back into the marina after a long day, pulling up to the docks to unload their catch of the day. Sailboats motored past on their way out to the ocean, where they would unfurl their sails and battle the strong winds and waves. In this part of Northern California, sailing was a sport for adrenaline junkies.
One sleek, teak-hulled yawl brought back memories of her father and his first sailboat. Maggie was ten years old when she and her mom and dad first started sailing together. It had been thrilling to skim across the water and feel the breeze ruffle her hair. That first summer on his new sailboat had been so much fun, with her father barking out orders and Maggie and her mom saluting and laughing as they trimmed the sails and adjusted the rigging according to his commands. They would sail to a small inlet where the waters were calm and the winds light. There they would drop anchor and have a picnic lunch. Once they even spent the night out on the water. It was magical.