Highland Dew Page 12

  “Good. I’ve had a few glowing progress reports from Reggie. She seems very excited about some of her prospects.”

  What? Bryce hadn’t seen any of those glowing reports. “Right, we’ve both been pretty lucky. I think you’ll be pleased.” Her shoulders bunched and her jaw tightened.

  “Oops, doctor’s coming. I trust you, Bryce. You know what I’m looking for. I’ll be in touch.” He disconnected.

  Her hands trembled slightly and she hit the disconnect. Red flags had popped up periodically, but she’d ignored them. Why? Reggie had been a friend for over ten years, but her recent behavior was odd. She’d always been competitive, but forthright.

  She looked twice when she saw that the sign for Stirling indicated a turn to the left. Clearly she’d been fixating on Reggie’s behavior, which distracted her. Shortly after that she’d need to look for her turnoff to Airdrie. Time for some new music. From the six CDs she preloaded, she selected an Ella Fitzgerald Favorites. “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” seemed timely.

  ****

  Fiona sat behind the desk in the company office. Five folders lay in the middle of the blotter on the clean desk. David Bascomb had spent most of the day sorting and explaining. He made a spreadsheet for her expenses, inventory, and overdue bills.

  She felt a new sense of calm she’d not experienced since she arrived home to this mess. Nothing was solved, but she had hope and the beginnings of a plan. If only Bryce hadn’t needed to go to Glasgow…She wanted her advice. That could wait until tomorrow afternoon. She pushed her chair back and walked across the yard to the warehouse, carrying the folders and a notepad. A list of what was in the cask room would be necessary. In the morning she’d sit down with her dad and find out what he had in mind for these barrels. God willing, he’d be lucid enough to tell her where to start, and maybe even what his wishes were.

  ****

  The afternoon sun shone on the unusual handmade quilt covering Reggie’s bed at the inn. The nap and shower had refreshed her, and she anticipated a fun evening with Malcolm, as well as a little research. The pegged pants were perfect with her red silk blouse. A spritz of perfume completed the ensemble, and she grabbed her phone.

  The quaint bar, surrounded by hundreds of whisky bottles, was lit with some soft light from half a dozen wall sconces and an intricately carved chandelier. The smell of wood smoke wafted toward the door and Scottish flute music welcomed her. Best of all, Billy stood behind the bar.

  Reggie adjusted her collar for more exposure and slid onto a barstool. “Well, hi there. Billy, right?’

  He flipped a bar towel over his shoulder and walked over. “That’s me.” He squinted. “And you’d be Bryce Andrews’s friend?”

  She giggled. “You sure have a good memory.”

  “What can I get for you?”

  “I’ll try the anCnoc. I haven’t had one for ever so long.” Reggie reviewed her plan to get some information before she met with Malcolm. If she could convince him that she was working closely with Bryce, he might be willing to collaborate with her.

  It took an hour, but the bar emptied enough for Reggie to call Billy over. She tossed back the remainder of her glass and waved.

  “Would you be ready for another?” Billy reached for her glass.

  “Sure. I still have some time before my dinner…appointment.”

  He poured. “This one’s on the house.”

  “You’re sweet. Thank you.” She held up the glass and sipped. “I wondered if you could help me?”

  “If I can, I will.” He folded the towel and leaned against the back bar.

  “Bryce needed to get the samples down to Glasgow and I told her I could get some papers ready for Fiona. You know, if she wants some information from us.”

  “Hmm, think she’ll want to sell?”

  “Bryce is trying to help her by finding some solutions for her dilemma, poor woman. Her dad being so sick and all.”

  His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “Aye, bad business.”

  “Are you familiar with the family?” Be careful.

  “Seems my father might have worked for the family for a short time. He was a cooper, but picked up work with some of the locals in the summer.”

  “So the distillery is around here?”

  “No. We came from over near Knockando. Excuse me.” He walked down the bar where two men had sat.

  She opened her map app on her phone. Why was that name so familiar? Ballindalloc… Knockando. Bingo. That was the location of Tamdhu Distillery and Malcolm Harris! It couldn’t be more than ten miles.

  She typed into her search: Distilleries near Knockando.

  Cardhu, Tamdhu, Glenfarclas. Tormore was nearby. She hoped Malcolm might have an idea.

  ****

  “Come in and have a seat,” Ian Smith said. “It’s so good to see you again, Bryce.”

  “Thanks, Ian. It didn’t take near as long as I thought.” She set a box on the table and her messenger bag on the chair next to hers. His office was small and utilitarian. It didn’t surprise her. Ian was fastidious and efficient. The office looked tidy, but without decoration.

  “May I offer some refreshment?”

  “No, thank you. I stopped for a bite on the way. Did you have time to look at the reports?”

  “Yes, and I was looking forward to tasting what you found.” He walked over to the credenza and returned carrying a tray with glasses, a carafe of water.

  Bryce pulled corked sample bottles from the box. “Let me set these up in chronological order.” They wore hand-printed labels: Braehead, Townsend & McClure, Duff’s Whisky, MacDougall & Son.

  “Yes, I read your tasting notes.” He picked up each in turn, held them to the light, poured a small amount, rolled and sniffed, then tasted.

  Bryce watched with her fists clenched. Her body vibrated with nervous energy. Please agree with some of my notes…

  Five minutes of expectation felt like waiting for a firing squad. Her right knee began to bounce. He poured the Highland Dew, and she held her breath.

  Unlike the others, he smiled and turned to face her. “My, my.” He looked at all four. “I think you’re right—these are unusual and have great potential…but, this one…” He held up the last one. “Is utterly remarkable. Please tell me about it.”

  She let out a breath and spots danced before her eyes. She grabbed the edge of the table.

  “Are you quite all right?” Ian’s normal calm momentarily evaporated.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I guess I was a little nervous.” She laughed and took a deep breath.

  “Why on earth would you be nervous? You are, by far, the most experienced taster in the ranks, and Mr. Edelman trusts you implicitly.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “You’re very kind. I was, well, I hoped you’d agree because I’d like your help with an idea.”

  “Regarding?” Ian leaned, back giving her his full attention.

  “The last sample, the Highland Dew.”

  He smiled. “Let’s hear what you’ve in mind.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Here’s more tea, Dad.” Fiona poured for both of them. “I’m glad you’re feeling much better, because I could use your help.”

  “Of course, as much as I can. What are all them papers about?” He adjusted his glasses.

  “David Bascomb—you remember, the accountant—came over to help me understand what needs to be done.” No need to give much detail. “This paper shows how much we’ve got in the bank, and how much we owe to people.”

  He looked closely. “Not so good.”

  She smiled. “That’s right. I think we need to sell some of the whisky we found yesterday.” She held her breath.

  Gavin looked at her with a blank stare.

  Damn.

  “The Distiller’s Special. Aye. That should be ready soon. It’s gonna be a winner, Fi.” He pulled out his pipe.

  “Dad, do you think we should just bottle and sell it? Or should we use some of the money to try and reope
n the distillery?”

  “Of course we should keep the place runnin’…I don’t know. I want everything back to normal, but I can’t make my brain work right. I’m sorry. I’m just no help.” He teared up, and Fiona took his hand.

  “I know. We don’t have to decide right now. Either way, I need to make some calls and buy us some time. You rest. I’m going to see to the dishes, then take care of those calls.” She took his arm and handed him his walking stick.

  “You know I love ya,” he said.

  She covered her mouth, and her throat tightened as she watched him walk into the parlor. I can’t remember the last time he said that. She took the dishes to the sink and washed them. The urge to run back to her quiet life teaching in Edinburgh felt overpowering.

  Predictable semesters, class schedules, and a new syllabus for each class. She would even enjoy grading papers compared to this interminable purgatory at home. It felt like treading water every single day.

  She wiped the table and hung up the towel. “Dad, I’m going over to the office for a bit.” No response. Probably snoozing.

  With the papers in hand, Fiona opened the back door and heard a car coming up the lane. Maybe Bryce had come back early. She hurried to the driveway and saw a similar car, but the driver was blond.

  “Can I help you?” Fiona asked as the car pulled up and stopped.

  An attractive young woman got out and smiled at her. “I’m Reggie Ballard. You might have heard Bryce mention me. You must be Fiona” She extended her hand.

  Her clothes and makeup looked expensive. Her coquettish drawl was surprising.

  “She didn’t mention you’d be coming here.” Fiona stepped back.

  “Oh, she was so busy trying to get everything ready for a meeting in the home office, it might have slipped her mind.” She looked around. “You have a lovely spot up here with all these trees. I love apple blossoms, don’t you?”

  “Yes. The MacDougalls have been here for over a hundred years, but I’m guessing you already know that.”

  Reggie turned quickly. “Well, Bryce and I discuss everything, you know. It’s important for business partners, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed.” Fiona folded her arms, covering the papers to her chest. “I guess that’s why I was surprised that Bryce didn’t come herself.”

  The flinch barely showed. “I was sure she would have talked about our luck finding new customers. Why, these new distillers are popping up everywhere.” She turned to face Fiona. “Of course, yours is very important, and that’s why she asked me to check in with you to see if you wanted to sign a Right to Represent form, so we could help you with the sales of the whisky…when you’re ready to sell.”

  Fiona gasped. “What?” A slap in the face would have felt the same.

  “I’m sorry. I thought she had already mentioned it. Don’t you fret.” She patted Fiona’s shoulder. “I know she was worried about your dad and the bills.”

  Fiona trembled. Why would Bryce send someone over here? Why wouldn’t she come herself?

  “And what is it she wants me to sign?” This felt wrong.

  “It’s not a big deal. It just says that if you sell your product, you want Global Distillers and Distribution to handle the arrangements. It’s not like a sale form.”

  “I don’t understand. I’ll have to think about it and talk to my father.” She turned toward the office. “I need to go.” She hurried to the office, leaving the young woman standing by her car.

  Once inside, she watched the petite charmer’s face morph into a dark mask. The car revved, circled around, and sped off.

  Fiona plopped down in the chair. Her breath came in brief gasps. Heat flushed her neck and face. “What the holy hell is going on?” She slammed the papers down. A million thoughts flooded her brain.

  She’d believed that Bryce was truly concerned with her family’s plight. It had seemed genuine, but then why wasn’t she here herself to make this proposal? And speaking of, when had selling the distillery become the best-case scenario? Bryce had laid out a few options, and hadn’t seemed to be leaning in this direction. But maybe she had been all along. Maybe, for gain of her own, she was just trying to finagle a way to gain her trust because of the whisky she thought was so valuable.

  Angry tears covered her cheeks and deep sobs filled her chest. “Dammit to hell! I can’t trust anyone.”

  ****

  The conference room felt close. Bryce fidgeted in her chair watching Ian Smith sign the bank forms with the trustee from the Bank of Scotland. She checked her watch for the third time, anxiously wanting to call Fiona.

  “Thanks for coming over, Charlie.” Ian stood and shook hands. “We’ll get Joan to make some copies and you can be on your way.”

  Bryce stood. “I appreciate your suggestions, thank you.” She shook his hand.

  “You’re quite a forward thinker, Ms. Andrews. It was a pleasure working with you.”

  Both men left the room and Bryce collapsed in her chair. This was going to work out for everyone. She could hardly sit still. All she wanted to do was hurry back to the inn and celebrate the new plan. Maybe she could call Leo. Better not, at least until all the ducks were in a row.

  Ian returned after a while with a legal-sized manila envelope. “Nice work, Bryce. I’m sure Leo will be glad when this falls into place. It’s a good plan. Take it slow, and make sure the details are clear to everyone.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without your help.” She wanted to hug him, but shook his hand instead. “I hope I’ll be back early enough to tell the MacDougall’s, but I might have to wait for morning. Gavin is more alert early in the day.”

  Ian leaned over. “So am I.”

  They both laughed.

  “I’ll make sure your samples get packed and shipped to Chicago with the reports. You can send the final contracts whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks again.”

  “Drive safe, hear?”

  ****

  Bryce studied the map as she filled up the car with petrol. As much as she enjoyed the breathtaking views of the back roads, she chose the M80 major throughway toward Edinburgh, then the M9 to the A9. The four-lane roadway would be faster and more direct. There’d be time for touring when her project finished.

  The purchase paid, she turned toward the entrance to the highway. Bryce smiled. “I can’t wait.” She punched in Fiona’s number on her cell phone. As it rang, she checked her watch. There would be plenty of time to stop and tell her in person.

  Voicemail. “Damn.”

  “Hey, Fiona, it’s Bryce, hoping to find you. I’ll try as I get closer. Bye”

  As soon as she navigated herself into traffic, she set the cruise control and let her imagination work.

  This would be a big project for her and for GDD. If Fiona and her dad were interested, she could lay out a phased program for international distribution. It would require some time because whisky changed as it aged and needed to be checked and tasted by a knowledgeable distiller along the way. Gavin couldn’t do it.

  The distillery might need a major overhaul. Who could make that determination? If Highland Dew became part of their represented product line, it would need new branding and consistency. And what about the Distiller’s Special? If they led with the top of the line…they’d have to wait years for another batch.

  She reached over and jotted a note on the large envelope to check the dates on the casks. There might be some newer batches. Anything newer than 2003 could work for future release.

  As the signs for Perth appeared, she watched for the roundabout for the A9. Once through, she tried Fiona’s number again. No answer.

  “Me again. I hope everything is okay. I’m worried. Would you give me a call when you get this?” She disconnected.

  Her effervescent joy leaked like air from her famous bruised tires.

  ****

  Reggie slammed her car door and stomped into the inn. She stopped inside the door. The bar for a drink, or upstairs to regrou
p? She took the stairs two at a time, nearly colliding with the hall maid.

  “Sorry.” She fumbled the key and kicked the doorjamb. The maid scurried down the stairs.

  “Sonofabitch!” She threw her things on the bed. “The plan was perfect. Shit.” She kicked off her shoes and stripped off her Yves Saint Laurent slacks. “I have to think of something, and I don’t have much time.”

  Once she’d gotten into jeans and a GSU T-shirt, she pulled out her folder and files. If there was a way, she’d find it. All the information she’d been able to find on the MacDougall family and the Highland Dew whisky lay spread out on the bed. There wasn’t much. “Connect the damn dots, Ballard.”

  All her life she’d found the right corners to cut and the best wheels to grease. Her rapid rise through the ranks at Global were directly related to her close relationship with Bryce. Most of the time, one or the other of them had been single and took the part of Sancho Panza to the questing Don Quixote.

  Bryce rewarded Reggie’s support with perks many others did not get. While she basked in the shared limelight of Bryce Andrews’s meteoric rise, it cost her the trust of her co-workers and clients. Normally, a small price to pay.

  Her cell phone rang, and she jumped. “Bryce, what a surprise.” Her heart thudded against her chest.

  “Hey, Reg. I’m on the way back and I wanted to check in. I have some really great news about the whisky I took in, specifically the Highland Dew.”

  “That’s great! Did Ian say anything about mine?”

  “He did. He liked what you got, especially the one south of Glasgow.”

  “Good. I did, too. What time will you be back?” Reggie tried for enthusiastic.

  “Not sure, an hour and a half or two. Why?”

  “I thought I’d wait to eat with you.” Sounds nice.

  “Great, then we can catch up. I may try to stop and see Fiona. She isn’t answering her phone and I want to be sure they’re okay.”