Chapter Three: The Water Story
Ethan repaired restaurant refrigeration equipment for a living.
His job made him suspicious of any machine that promised too much and explained too little.
It also gave him a useful habit.
He asked what a system actually did before accepting what its owner called it.
By noon, he was standing outside Alder Spring’s newly opened storefront with Nina and Tessa.
The shop occupied a former shoe-repair business near the old Calder Theater.
Its windows displayed handmade-looking stone bottles and photographs of green hills.
A chalkboard offered a tasting flight of three supposedly distinct mineral waters.
Inside, a woman in a white linen jacket poured samples for customers.
Her name tag read LEAH MORROW, WATER CURATOR.
“Welcome to Alder Spring,” she said.
“Have you discovered your body’s natural mineral signature?”
Nina answered before Ethan could speak.
“I’d like to discover where the water comes from.”
Leah smiled.
“Our source is a historic underground formation.”
“Where is it?”
“The location is protected.”
“Who protects it?” Ethan asked.
Leah’s smile weakened.
“Our founder would be happy to explain the philosophy.”
“I asked about plumbing.”
Tessa picked up a small bottle and read the label.
The front called the water RESTORATIVE RESERVE.
A sentence on the back claimed that generations of local families had treasured the source.
Another sentence urged customers to consult medical professionals about their health.
It was careful language arranged beside photographs that implied much more.
A gray-haired woman at the tasting counter lifted a small glass.
“They say it helped a woman walk without her cane,” she told her friend.
Leah did not correct her.
Nina watched that exchange with narrowed eyes.
“How much for the subscription?” she asked.
“The founder’s annual plan is twelve hundred dollars.”
Ethan almost dropped the bottle he was holding.
“For water?”
Leah lowered her voice.
“For a curated experience with seasonal deliveries.”
A door behind the counter opened.
A tall man in a navy jacket stepped out carrying a stack of invitations.
He had a bright smile and eyes that assessed the room before settling on a person.
“I hope everyone’s enjoying the tasting,” he said.
Leah looked relieved.
“Mr. Bell, these visitors have questions about the source.”
The man’s smile widened.
“Questions are the beginning of discovery.”
He offered Ethan his hand.
“Adrian Bell.”
Ethan did not take it.
“Ethan Cole.”
Bell paused for half a second.
“I know your street.”
“You know my water line too?”
Nina showed him the photograph of the blue-stained tubing.
Bell glanced at it, then returned his eyes to Ethan.
“We’ve never installed anything in your home.”
“I didn’t say you had.”
“Then perhaps we should avoid accusations in front of customers.”
The gray-haired woman set down her tasting glass.
Tessa stepped forward.
“Why is my grandfather on your brochure?”
Bell looked at her carefully.
“The Finch family was generous enough to share some neighborhood history.”
“He told you not to use his picture.”
“I’m certain we can address that.”
“He already addressed it,” Tessa replied.
“You ignored him.”
Leah began stacking glasses with unnecessary energy.
Bell handed Ethan a business card.
“Come to our Saturday launch,” he said.
“We invite the whole city to hear our story.”
“We’ll be there,” Ethan said.
Outside, Nina let out a long breath.
“That man answers every question with a new question.”
“He knew my street before I mentioned it,” Ethan said.
Tessa unfolded the brochure again.
At the bottom, beneath the photograph of her grandfather, was a small drawing of four houses beside a blue line.
The drawing was labeled THE ORIGINAL ALDER CORRIDOR.
Ethan recognized the rooflines.
One of them was his.
