Highland Dew

by Barrett Magill

  “That’s true enough. What if we could find a crew that knew what they were doing? Is the equipment working?”

  “I think so. I could check everything, if that’s what you want.”

  Murray sounded less than enthusiastic.

  “It’s a big decision.”

  She turned as her dad leaned heavily on the table and sighed loudly.

  “This has been a family-run distillery for five generations, and I hate to be the one that let it die, but I’m not sure I have the stamina, either. Fiona has offered to take over, but there’s an awful lot to learn. She’d need our help.”

  The few dishes were dry and stacked. She brought a towel to wipe the table, and took the opportunity to speak up. “I know how important this is, Dad, and believe it or not, I want this legend to continue. Proudly.” She sat down. “Right now, the folks at the Speyburn Distillery are bottling two barrels for us. There’ll be money coming in regular as long as we have whisky to sell. But in order to get back to makin’ the whisky, we’ll need to fix things up a bit, and that won’t be easy or cheap.”

  “That’s the truth,” Murray said.

  “I think we might need to start making a list of repairs and such. Can you do that?” Her dad sounded committed to the idea.

  “Oh, I think I could.”

  “Murray, I have to ask you a question. Seems there was a fire in the office, and you coulda burned up. What aren’t you telling me?”

  The color drained from Murray’s face, and Fiona sat very still.

  “You know things was getting bad, and you were acting a bit daft sometimes…I didn’t know what to do when everyone had left.” His voice caught. “I’ll admit I was scared and probably had too many drinks now and then…but that night, well, I don’t know what happened. I woke up in me cottage, sick and stinkin’ of smoke.”

  “You nearly burned down the place if Fiona and the American lass hadn’t come back just then. That’s not the man I knew and trusted with my life.”

  Murray just hung his head. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

  “I don’t want you to, eejit.”

  “I’ll just excuse myself for now.” He stood. “Thanks for the meal, Miss Fiona.”

  The back door latched, and she looked at her dad. His eyes welled with tears.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  The flight back seemed faster, although Bryce knew it wasn’t. Maybe the later flight made a difference, but she wanted to arrive the next morning in order to avoid a motel stop. The hour layover at Heathrow got her in at a reasonable time.

  The plane braked hard on the landing, and she braced herself on the seat in front of her. A balding man shot her an irritated glance.

  “Sorry.”

  The woman next to her smiled and mouthed the word “ass.” Bryce nodded. She stretched her legs and pulled up her messenger bag. Once her phone booted up, she saw a message from Ian.

  Ian Smith: Would appreciate it if you had some time to talk when Larry drops you to pick up your car.

  I hope there’s no problem. She stepped out as the aisle cleared and headed for the exit. Her imagination filled her with anticipation and excitement about her leave. On the one hand, she’d daydreamed about a small cottage of her own where she could cook and have some real privacy. The inn had been comfortable, but often quite noisy.

  As she cleared the Jetway, she moved quickly to the crowded concourse and exit. Now that she knew about the special pickup area, she didn’t want to keep Larry waiting.

  The messenger bag was heavy on her shoulder with not only her laptop but also a thick photo history of Chicago she bought for Fiona. She couldn’t prevent the smile when she felt a small flutter in her chest. It’d been a long time since she’d enjoyed the first rush of infatuation, and she liked it.

  Larry waved his arm as she approached. If she remembered correctly, he’d started in the mailroom a couple of years ago. The bright blue GDD windbreaker identified him easily.

  “Welcome, Ms. Andrews. Let me take that bag and stow it.” He easily pushed the roll-aboard bag into the van and helped her in.

  “Thanks. I’m sorry I’m late. We had to go around a storm.” She unzipped her jacket and tucked the messenger bag next to her.

  “It’s no problem. It was quite jammed earlier.” He buckled up and steered them out into a dark, rain-soaked Glasgow motorway.

  The rain made the view a watercolor of angular shapes on a blurred background. As soon as they neared the exit for the office, she experienced an odd sensation in the center of her chest…almost a release or opening. Not unpleasant, but it still startled her. The pressure from her hand soothed it, and she inhaled deeply.

  This was a new start. A new chapter. She wanted to make the most of it.

  “Larry, would you mind going through the employee parking and I’ll drop off my bag?” She rifled through her messenger bag for the ring of keys she’d hooked in a compartment, then remembered leaving the car key with Ian.

  “Oops, I don’t have the key—”

  “I’ve got the one you left. Where did you leave the car?”

  “Over there. The Vauxhall Insignia.” He handed her the key as she climbed out of the van into the downpour. “Thanks.”

  Ian greeted her at the front door with a towel. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid your welcome was a bit damp. Come in and we’ll have some tea.”

  “Thanks.” She stamped her wet trainers and used the towel on her hair. “Tea sounds great.”

  They moved into his office, and he hung up her jacket.

  “I hoped this would clear up earlier.” He poured two cups and handed her one. “Milk and sugar?”

  “Yes, thanks.” The steaming Earl Grey smelled wonderful. It warmed her soul more than anything. Fiona loved Earl Grey. She glanced at her watch. Nearly ten o’clock. She could be back in Craigellachie around two. That would give her time to unpack and change.

  Ian sat across from her and unbuttoned his tweed jacket. “The reason I wanted to speak with you is about the MacDougall whisky.”

  “Is there a problem?” She put her cup down as a ripple of adrenaline coursed through her body.

  “Nothing serious. We had an interruption over here at the Airdrie plant, and it would have backed things up. When I mentioned it to Tom Hobart, and he said he could run it at Speyburn, and they’d really like to work with the MacDougalls. Seems he and Liam were impressed with what they tasted. We sent the information to them and notified Fiona.”

  Bryce slumped back and smiled. “You’re right, that’s not a problem. I certainly trust Tom, and they’ve all met.”

  A wave of dread washed over her as she remembered that night. Her collapsing, Gavin disappearing, and the night they spent after leaving him at the hospital…it felt so long ago, but it really wasn’t. So much had happened. With Leo and Reggie…

  “…then you could offer that as the distribution point…”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I said that if they decide to sign a contract, Tom and Liam would manage the final product.”

  “Oh. Yes, that would be great. They all got along well. I’ll certainly offer that.” She finished her tea. “I think I’ll be working more in a consultant role for a while. I don’t know if Leo mentioned it, but I’m on a working leave for a few months. I’ll still be in touch with the new contacts, but I want to do a little touring and relaxing.”

  “That sounds grand. He did mention some changes, but said he’d fill me in. I hope you enjoy your time.” He stood. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get to it. It looks like the rain has let up.”

  She grabbed her jacket. “Thanks for everything, and I’m sure we’ll be talking.”

  ****

  “Hello, Leo? It’s Reggie Ballard.” She set the phone on speaker after she closed her office door.

  “Thanks for calling back. It looks like the new replacement selections for the San Francisco office were approved by all parties. The change should go into effect in two weeks. In the meantim
e, I’d like you to look at the Hong Kong office.”

  She dropped her pen. “I thought you said everything was set for Thailand?”

  “It was, but we just got word about a problem with the distribution of our Scotch imports. The demand is much higher than the supply. You are in a much better position to rectify that. I want you to trust me, Reggie. It’s a better fit, and you’re going to love Hong Kong. Let Margaret set you up for a quick visit. If you agree with me, we’ll sign a contract. Agreed?”

  Her head was spinning. When he told her about the Far East transfer, she’d had a complete meltdown. But, after she did some research, she thought it sounded like a good move. There was nothing holding her on the west coast, and she’d have a lot more autonomy. Maybe Hong Kong would be interesting.

  “You always know what’s best, Leo. I’ll trust your instincts.” She oozed southern charm.

  “Good. I think you’ll be glad you took this. Have a good trip, and let me know what you think.”

  ****

  The skies cleared as Bryce drove through Pitlochry.

  The recent shower wiped the landscape clear of dust and dirt. The bright green leaves sprouting on the trees, the black slate on the roofs, and the color of spring flowers—everything seemed to sparkle.

  The clock read eleven thirty. She’d be back at the Highlander Inn soon. She flipped on the music and began to sing along with Adele.

  Another sharp curve, and Bryce smiled at her improved driving skills—no more curb adventures. Beyond the white fence on her side were dozens of sheep scattered across the broad hillside enjoying the new grass. She slowed as several of them took turns hopping on and off a large bale near the fence. They watched her for approval or appreciation of their skill, she was quite sure. So, she waved.

  Fatigue crept in as she turned off on Victoria street. Suddenly, a nap on the soft bed sounded appealing. The parking lot looked empty, and she parked near the rear door.

  The room looked tidy and smelled fresh. The Inn staff had been very obliging about her quick trip back to the U.S. After kicking off her shoes and dropping her bags, she flopped on the bed with her phone. Hard as it was, she opted for a quick text to Fiona. Otherwise if she heard her voice, she knew she get right back in the car and drive over.

  Bryce: Hi Fiona, I just got back to the inn and wanted to let you know. I guess we can talk whenever it’s convenient. See ya.

  That sounded dorky, but her eyelids were drooping. Fiona MacDougall…

  ****

  “Tom, I really appreciate your time,” Fiona said. “This whole distribution has overwhelmed me. Bryce tried to explain, but had to go back to the States.”

  He set out two sets of papers. “We want this to be a good experience, and a profitable one. I’ve outlined the steps we’ll follow to get the whisky sold and your money deposited. Here is a draft of the new label for you and your dad to approve. We tried to make it look like the original. If we consider any changes, we can always rebrand the product.”

  “Oh, I like that very much. Looks clean and crisp.” She tapped the print. “I think I mentioned my dad gave me power of attorney and asked that we change our brand name to MacDougall Family Distillers. But that can wait for the next run.”

  “That’s nice. I’m glad the two of you will be working together on this. When Bryce gets back, you’ll want to decide how you want to write up the agreement.” He laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m assuming you want to sign with Global Distributing.”

  She held the papers and straightened the edges. Had she? Was there another option? The amount of money was staggering, but she’d never even looked at another company. Shouldn’t she at least ask around some? “Yes, of course. I’m sure we’ll be talking when she gets back.”

  “Fiona, there’s no rush. It’s important that you feel comfortable with us.”

  “I understand. It’s just there are so many things to decide on for the future.” She stood and walked to the large window overlooking the wooded hillside. Tom had given her a tour of the large facility. Thinking about the small capability of their modest operation, she felt overwhelmed. She turned.

  “Tom, do you think we should sell off the whisky and close our little operation?”

  He rubbed his chin and thought. “Hard to say. I don’t know how much work it might be to retool to get back up to working. Be glad to come down and look, if you want. Or I can send Liam.”

  She leaned against the sill. “Maybe that’s a good idea. We really would like to preserve the legacy, but I’d hate to get in over my head, you know with Dad’s health.”

  “As I said, you needn’t hurry your decision. There are many more barrels to move. You may want to consider letting Liam blend some of it.”

  “You’ve given me some wonderful information. I should let you get on with your day.” The papers fit nicely in her folder. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” He stood and shook her hand. “I’m sure we’ll speak again.”

  A bright white cloud moved off the sun and a breeze picked up. The scent from the malting shed made her smile. Speyburn Distillery wasn’t large by most standards, but it was far larger and more modern than MacDougall’s.

  Fiona followed the road south to home. The bucolic scenery freed her mind and allowed her imagination to fly free. What would it take to bring the place into the twenty-first century? Could she find qualified workers?

  She’d probably need a manager and more room. Offices. A wider drive and car park. More facilities for people. Would they have tours?

  After all, she was still in her thirties…for another year. She had a good education and physical strength. They had plenty of time while the finished whisky went into distribution.

  The sign for the Archiestown turnoff appeared and she turned right onto the side road and glanced at the clock. It was noon and Bryce would be back sometime this afternoon. The emails she’d received the past couple of days sounded promising. Bryce had been granted her leave and would be available to help. And not a minute too soon.

  It felt good to have a friend to talk things over and problem-solve. The past couple of weeks challenged her limits and forced her out of her comfort zone. Taking care of someone else pushed a lot of buttons for her. Her time in Edinburgh consisted of teaching and solitary pursuits.

  She thought back to the grad school romance with her then-roommate. Their love had burned bright and burned out in a scant seven years. A hot flame burns brighter. The heartache lasted much longer. Fiona withdrew and refused her friends’ entreaties to start dating. It was too painful. Her job fulfilled her need to be with people, and she’d begun to crave her solitude right up to the minute that car showed up with the American.

  Who would have imagined an attractive, single woman would just show up at her door? And still she’d fought those feelings for weeks until Bryce left for the US. Then, of course, she suddenly remembered what this kind of attraction could feel like. Damn.

  As she pulled her car up to the back door, she saw Murray and her dad standing in front of the office talking. When they spotted her, Murray took off like a scalded cat. What kind of mischief were they up to?

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Reggie closed her eyes as the hotel limo navigated to the Marco Polo Hong Kong on the harbor. The driver had estimated forty-five minutes because of the traffic. Even through the tinted windows, she gaped at the amazing skyline. Having spent a month in Scotland with desolate and wild highlands spotted with quaint villages, this looked totally alien. Every building looked like a skyscraper. The traffic was unimaginable, and the air pollution looked like heavy fog. Her brain couldn’t quite absorb the radical difference twenty hours in a plane could create.

  Too tired and too overstimulated, Reggie closed her eyes and tried to relax. Leo had given her a week to acclimate and talk with the local staff. Hopefully some real sleep would open up some neural pathways soon.

  Mercifully, the uniformed bellman helped her through a painless registration. They moved
through the long narrow marble lobby to the elevator and into her lush, quiet room overlooking the harbor. Across the bay sat Hong Kong island. The sun had set, and a swath of lighted towers took on a motion picture quality—like a film sequence at the beginning of a movie.

  She stood barefoot and mesmerized at the window, holding a miniature bottle of vodka.

  ****

  Bryce walked out on her deck at the Highlander Inn and re-read Fiona’s text—the one she apparently missed while enjoying her brief coma.

  Fiona: So glad you’ve arrived safely! Would be happy to offer you dinner if you’re not too tired out.

  She smiled and replied.

  Bryce: I would really enjoy that. See you around six?

  There was time for a quick shower. Fortunately, she had made time to stop at a mall outside Airdrie and picked up some casual and work duds. New shorts, trainers, and a couple of camp shirts. The other unpacking could wait.

  She undressed and turned on the water. “Don’t forget the souvenirs.” Her messenger bag lay open on the bed, and she pulled out the wrapped book and candy. The book she’d chosen had a whole section on Sandberg. Fiona had seemed so excited about his work about the city. Maybe, someday, she’d want to visit the Windy City.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself, tiger. Business first.

  The cold water made her jump and squeal. “Shit.”

  She fumbled for the adjustment and twisted it more to hot. Her own squealing made her laugh. Why on earth would Fiona give her a second look?

  Light clouds gradually became a velvet grey drape over the area. The air stilled and even the birds took cover. It didn’t look like a storm, but Bryce wasn’t familiar with weather patterns after such a short time. The air did have that fresh ozone smell. Could be rain nearby.