Twenty-Three
Toni hung up the phone and returned to the open floor of the brewery yurt. She and Chrissie were using duct tape to mark where the brewing equipment and tables would go.
She found Chrissie shaking her head mournfully at the strips of duct tape crisscrossing the floor. “We need more space. It’s not going to work. I thought we’d start small, but those brewery tanks are so much bigger than what I thought. It’s not all going to fit in here.”
Chrissie had traded with a craft brewer who had moved on to making berry wines. In exchange for his inventory of microbrewery equipment, she’d offered up one of her grandfather’s inventions—a time traveling device. Amazingly, he’d taken the deal, even though she’d offered zero guarantees of actual time travel.
“We’ll find a way,” Toni prom
