Highland Dew Page 4

  Might need to make a pit stop. She fidgeted in her seat. The seat belt pinched. Something about that hanging sign bothered her. Bryce wasn’t much for superstition or psychics, but she’d always had a strong intuition about certain things, and she eventually learned to listen to it.

  A wide driveway lay on her right just ahead. No cars in sight, she pulled in and turned around. This is just crazy, but hey, I’ve got plenty of time.

  Weeds claimed most of the driveway, but she could see a small orchard on one side and a roof above the tree line up on the other. No livestock and no sounds. She slowed near the stone house and parked. When she got out of the car, a woman appeared on the front step. Bryce instantly regretted her impulse to trespass.

  “Can I help you?” The woman asked. Her arm shielded her eyes from the lowering sun. Her clothes were casual: jeans and a large wool sweater that looked like one of those Lands’ End Heather Brown numbers. It matched her hair.

  “I’m really sorry. I was exploring and I thought this might be abandoned.” Bryce swallowed and hoped she wouldn’t be shot. Leo would be furious.

  The woman laughed. Genuinely laughed.

  “I can see why you’d make that assumption.”

  All Scottish brogues were appealing to Bryce, but this woman’s voice was lyrical and soft—as was her appearance.

  “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m scouting for small distilleries.” Bryce gestured to the road. “The hanging sign read MacDougall & Son Distillers and I thought…”

  The woman stepped down and walked closer. Up close she looked much younger. “I can’t blame you, and there’s no harm done.” She stopped in front of Bryce and folded her arms casually. “If you’d stopped by a year or so ago, it would have been true. Not now.”

  “That’s a shame.” That was a stupid thing to say. “I mean this is a perfect location for a distillery… What a legacy. When did it close?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s been dying for some time because my father can no longer manage it. The staff left one by one until they were no longer producing whisky. The inventory dropped and with it, the income.” The woman wiped her cheek. “I’m sorry to be going on. My name is Fiona MacDougall—the daughter—not the son.”

  “Please don’t apologize. I appreciate you sharing it. Oh, I’m Bryce Andrews.” She felt her face heat up with embarrassment.

  “Do you mind if I ask why you’re scouting distilleries?”

  “Oh, no, of course not. I work for an international distributor and we were hoping to find some unique small distillers to market.”

  “Sounds fascinating. Sorry we couldn’t help you, but good luck with your scouting.” She smiled and held out her hand.

  “Thanks, it was nice to meet you…Take care.” Bryce took her hand then backed up. Fiona let go first and Bryce hit the car. “Whoops.”

  They both laughed and waved as Bryce turned the car around and made her exit toward the road.

  Chapter Five

  A few miles east of Knockando, as the sun dipped farther down, Bryce slowed the car and pulled off to find a room for the night. Craigellachie was near and she remembered it. After a quick call to confirm availability, she steered her car into the Highlander Inn lot.

  The first time Leo had brought her to the Speyside Distillery, he explained that he had stopped there so she could experience a small pub with an extensive selection of single malts and a knowledgeable barkeep.

  They had stayed for almost a week, and he took her around to the major distillers in the area. She smiled when she remembered their first evening when Leo offered the barman £40 for them to taste a wee dram of twenty single malts. It was a slow night, and the man agreed. Billy something. It took a couple of hours, and she had written the notes for every single one of them. It was a lesson and experience she never forgot.

  Neither did the bar patrons. They watched in rapt attention as Billy explained each one. The other patrons also bought samples for themselves. Not a bad thing all the way round.

  When they were ready to leave, the manager asked if Leo would like to come and do it on a regular basis. He declined, but filed the idea away for the future. Remember to call Leo.

  “Thank you, that would be great.” Bryce returned her credit card to her wallet and took the room key. More and more this trip felt like she was coming home. The old inn looked exactly the same—the wood-trimmed walls, slightly faded plaid carpet, and antlered ceiling fixtures. The faint smell of wood smoke and freshly baked pastries.

  Her room was in the back facing the River Spey. There was a small deck and a slider to open for a fresh breeze. The handmade quilts, curtains, and doilies lent an unexpected warmth. Bryce had spent way too many nights and days in large, impersonal, modern corporate suites. “Sit and have a wee cuppa.”

  Bryce set down her things and smiled. It kind of felt like her new home.

  ****

  Monday morning dawned like storybook Scotland—“dreich,” as the locals called it. A text from Malcolm said he’d meet her at The Highlander after work, so she called ahead to see Tom at Speyside.

  “Just tea and a biscuit, I think.” Her stomach still felt queasy. Probably all the driving. She checked her email from habit. Nothing. When had that ever happened? The dining room had a handful of patrons. Most looked like older tourists and a couple of singles.

  Once outside, her fleece jacket helped keep out the chill and she readjusted the defroster in her still unfamiliar Vauxhall. Visibility was sketchy at best, but the GPS steered her onto the A941, the main road going north. The roadway lined by trees was probably lovely when the fog lifted.

  Rothes presented like many small villages with neat, stone buildings lining the main streets, slate roofs with double chimneys. She waved at a woman with a pram, who waved back.

  Gradually, Bryce was feeling better about the trip to Scotland. The stress and exhaustion from big-city living just leached away into the air of the ancient landscape. She laughed and rolled down her window. Even Reggie had sounded less cynical when they talked last night. Her route had taken her through Islay and now Jura. She’d be in Oban by tomorrow. Her territory looked smaller, but already she had made more stops and more contacts. That’s good. Means she’s motivated.

  The road sign indicated a roundabout ahead, and the Speyburn Distillery was the third exit. Remember to get on the inside lane. She had time. Fortunately, no large vehicles made for a smooth turn. Move out, left B9015, got it.

  Shit!

  Damn curb.

  She pulled over when she could to check the tire. She stood red-faced as cars passed. The tire looked okay, but she could detect a small scrape on the hubcap.

  Could’ve been worse, she thought as she turned on the side road for the distillery.

  ****

  Tom Hobart took over Speyburn as general manager in 2001. He had started his career in Edinburgh at the fabled Whisky Shop on Princes Street. Another great find for Leo. He lured him away to Glasgow and the main office in Airdrie, and finally to Speyside.

  “Bryce, my gosh! How long has it been?” Tom stood about six foot with long arms and legs, probably a runner. He strode across the waiting area with his hand outstretched and a smile on his face.

  “Hi, Tom. Good to see you.” She accepted his enthusiastic greeting. It felt good to be welcomed by a peer—it wasn’t always that way. “It’s at least four years. You look great. Are you enjoying the northern climes?”

  “You know, I really am. This is so much different than the energy in Glasgow or Edinburgh.” He steered her to a small lounge. “Would you like some tea or coffee?”

  “Tea would be great. I don’t want to take too much of your time, I just wanted to check in and see how things were going.”

  He leaned back and unbuttoned his tweed jacket. “Pretty well, I think. The economy up here took a dive a few years ago.” He smiled. “I guess it did everywhere. But with fewer tourists on the trail, we had to rotate some staff to keep the doors open. Sales have picked up in
the last six months, and everybody feels better.”

  She knew the figures for all of the GDD distilleries. Speyburn wasn’t in the worst shape—thanks to Tom. “Leo wanted me to ask about the new blend, he’s anxious to work on the artwork for the rollout.”

  Tom shook his head and chuckled. “Of course he is. I think we’re on schedule. After we finish here, I’ll send you down to talk to our master distiller. Liam is an artist, you know, can’t rush him.”

  “And I wouldn’t try. He has an excellent sense for the taste.”

  Liam did indeed have interesting news on the new blend. He’d found several local single malts of different ages, and after weeks, finally reached the balance he sought. He was ecstatic. Bryce could only smile. Although he had nothing for her to taste, he did write down a precise description to pass on to Leo. It would mean more to him anyway.

  She followed the road back to Rothes and made a non-official stop at The Glenrothes Distillery to see if they were selling anything new. There was still time to meet Malcolm and enjoy a drink and dinner. As she parked, her phone dinged. “Call from Reggie.”

  “Hi, Reg. What’s new?” She turned off the car and sat watching the sun play off the oxidized copper spire on the distillery. The aged sign in front read EST.1870. Nice.

  “I finished up here and I’m going to stay in Oban tonight. Can you meet up tomorrow?” Reggie had music playing in the background. Was she in the car or a pub? Hard to tell.

  “I just visited Speyburn and I’m heading to the Highlander to meet Malcolm. Do you want to meet me there? It’s quicker to Inverness after. I can get you a room.”

  “Might as well. I’ve got enough to write up and send already. There are only a few others up north.”

  “How’s your weather?”

  “Pretty damn gusty. The sun is out but a storm looks to be moving in tonight. How about you?”

  “Not bad. Foggy this morning, but I really like the dramatic changes. I’m even getting better at navigating these roads. Well, almost.”

  Reggie laughed. “What happened?”

  “Oh, just one of those damn roundabouts. I made all the way to my exit and then hit the curb. More embarrassment than damage. Stop laughing.”

  “Maybe I should just stay with you so I can drive you around.”

  “Very funny. Maybe you should find the goose that lays the golden egg and Leo will be thrilled.”

  “All right, all right. Got to catch the ferry. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow. Bye.”

  “Take care.”

  The Glenrothes visit was fairly brief. She got a name from the sales clerk for a man from nearby Maggieknockater who recently began his own small start-up. He was a former employee and wanted more hands-on learning. Bryce wrote it down and called as soon as she got back to her room.

  The man’s name was Dan, and he regaled her with enthusiastic plans on how he was going to collect unique botanicals to add distinct flavor. When he took a breath, she asked him what he was distilling.

  “Pure spirits right now, then I’ll add the botanicals and create a new gin.”

  “Gin? Did you say gin?”

  “Yes. It’s the new thing, and it’s already popular in the larger areas.”

  “I just thought, since you came from The Glenrothes, you’d be doing whisky.”

  “I was, at first. But when I started shopping for supplies and equipment, I changed my mind. This doesn’t require years of aging.”

  “That’s exciting. I hope you’re a huge success. Thanks for your time.”

  She hung up and carefully wrote out “Gin with new botanicals. Check this out.”

  She added the small samples from Tom to the heavy box with dividers. Liam would send the new blend when it was ready. When they assembled all of them, she and Reggie would have the main office in Glasgow ship them to the States. The notes would stay with her and in her cloud file.

  There was just enough time for her to change and catch a quick shower before heading downstairs.

  Chapter Six

  Malcolm was already at the bar when she came down. He stood when she came over.

  She hugged him. “You are a sight for sore eyes, old friend.”

  “You, too, Bryce.” He hugged her tight.

  “Let me look at you.” She held him by the shoulders. He was only a couple of inches taller, and stocky. Muscular and not flabby. His light brown hair was thinning, but his blue eyes twinkled with mischief above his always-pink cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Do you want a table, or the bar?” He asked.

  “Let’s sit down at the other end of the bar. It looks quiet.”

  The old wooden stools were worn and molded with age. The back bar and most of the wall space was filled with whisky bottles of every size and shape. Bryce could feel her jaw drop as she scanned the old labels.

  “Four hundred thirty at last count.” A deep smoky voice rumbled.

  She turned and saw a large man with black curly hair that was grey at the sides, a handlebar moustache, green eyes, and dimples. “Billy?” She said incredulously.

  “Well, you’re a clever one. At your service m’lady.” He grinned.

  “I’m sorry. I’m shocked. I was here many years ago on my first visit to Scotland. And I remember you.”

  “Verra likely, as I’ve been here over fifteen years.” He set out beer mats with ale logos. “What’ll it be?”

  “Bryce, you order.” Malcolm hung up his jacket.

  The sheer number overwhelmed her. “Would you select something I might not get in the States?”

  He rubbed his chin and nodded. “I think I know just the one. And you, sir?”

  “I’ll take Glenfiddich fifteen-year-old, neat.” He unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie.

  “This is so great. I’m sorry Reggie isn’t here.” It felt like no time had passed and they were all joining up after work for a drink. Good times. Then came the familiar pinch reminding her of the bad times.

  “My gosh. How is the little tyrant?” Malcolm chuckled.

  “Still the same. I have to keep an eye on her. She’s over on the coast. She’ll drive up tomorrow. Maybe we can figure something out.”

  Billy returned with two tasting glasses and a small pitcher of water. “Glenfiddich Fifteen for you, sir. And Balvenie Caribbean Cask for the lady. Slainté.”

  They added a few drops of water and performed the ritual tasting they always did.

  Bryce let the first sip roll around, then swallowed. “Wow, I love this. It’s definitely Balvenie, but what a different flavor. How’s yours?”

  Malcolm just grinned. “Lovely.”

  “Tell me about your growing family.”

  He set the glass down and tipped it slightly in a circle. “Emily is good. We had our third girl almost a year ago. So it’s a good thing her mum lives so close. Rose and Daphne think the babe is a new doll for them.”

  Bryce smiled at the thought of his cherubic wife with three little angels. “And how are things at Tamdhu? You happy?”

  “I really am. It’s a different group and a new philosophy for me to get used to, but I like the slower pace and having my opinion valued. I feel like part of the team.” He sipped his whisky.

  She understood what he meant. At their Glasgow facility he was a worker bee with no hope for advancement. He was smart, learned quickly, and was very soft spoken. She was sad when he left, but now felt it was the right move.

  Billy came over and said, “How does that whisky do?”

  She grinned. “This was quite a surprise, and very nice. What’s the secret?”

  He leaned over. “Distilled in rum barrels.”

  “No kidding?”

  He reached back and handed her the bottle.

  “I really like this one.”

  “I remember you!” Billy pointed.

  Bryce stopped mid-sip.

  Billy laughed and slapped his palm on the old oak bar. “You were here with an older fella, and he bribed me into giving you gu
ys twenty different whisky samples.” He clapped his hands and almost choked from laughing so hard. “A quiet weeknight turned into an epic whisky class. Old-timers are still talking about it.”

  “You remembered that?”

  “Of course, we all do. Do you still work with him?”

  “I sure do. I’m the west coast regional sales manager.”

  “Really. How come you’re back here?”

  “Speyburn is one of our holdings, and Leo sent us over to scout out some small-batch whisky distilleries.”

  “You don’t say. Why’d you want to be looking for new whisky?”

  “Its popularity is taking off in the States, just like the microbrews. We’d like to find some up-and-comers to represent in the States.”

  Billy smiled. “Well look around and tell me if you see something unusual you’d like to taste. Not twenty, you understand.” He winked.

  “Thanks.”

  “I was going to ask about your mission. Is it a new project?” Malcolm said.

  “We’re not sure yet. We all attended a craft spirit convention and found it really interesting. Scotch is getting even more popular—and so are the Japanese imports. Whisky is more global than ever. So why not check it out?” No need to mention Leo’s concern about their market share. She took another swallow and smiled as it warmed her all the way down. Sweet on the lips, then leather and pepper. Interesting.

  “Would you like a little something to nibble?”

  Food. “Great idea. Go ahead and order something.”

  Malcolm waved at Billy. “Do you think we might have some oatcakes and cheddar?”

  “Coming right up. You ready for another?”

  “In a bit,” Bryce said. “I’m not sure what to taste next.” She waved at the vast collection.

  When Billy returned with the cheese plate, Malcolm said, “I’d like to try the Benrinnes Fifteen.”

  “I think you’ll like that. And you…?”

  “I’m going with that Dailuaine Sixteen,” Bryce said.

  Both smiled when they tasted their second selections.

  The aged cheddar cheese tasted nutty and rich, the oatcakes a wonderful memory. “It’s hard to get oatcakes at home. I forgot how much I like them.”