Highland Dew

by Jeanne Magill

  “Not bad, except two was Islay and three was Speyside.” Billy smiled.

  “That’s the same one I missed,” Bryce said, “what is it?”

  He produced a bottle labeled “Speyburn 10-Year.”

  Bryce and Reggie both groaned. “That’s ours.”

  “Aye, right up the road a bit.” He gestured over his shoulder.

  Reggie began to laugh. “Leo would have our hides for missing that.”

  “Yeah, might be best to leave that out of our reports. Thanks a lot, Billy. Do you think we could look at a menu?” Bryce added.

  Reggie broke off a piece of oat cake and added a bit of sharp cheddar. “That was fun. I liked the first one and the last two. Can we find out what they are?”

  Not sure she wanted to share her pervious choices, Bryce asked, “Could you give us the distillery names?”

  Billy handed her the list and cleared the glasses. “Your order should be up soon.”

  “You’re kidding.” Reggie laughed. “One of those I missed was a place I visited and tasted.” She covered her eyes. “But I don’t know the others.”

  “The last two were ones I liked, too. One of them, the anCnoc is available and comes out of the Knockdhu distillery. The other one is no longer made. Highland Dew.”

  “That’s too bad. It was unique and stood out.”

  “Ladies.” Billy set down two plates of fish and chips.

  Bryce shook out her napkin. “So, tell me about your adventures in the Hebridean Islands.”

  ****

  Fiona got her dad settled in bed, left his door ajar, and sat back down at the kitchen table to go through the sales and production numbers. More than likely she’d have to call David, their former bookkeeper.

  She poured more tea and flipped through last-quarter earnings. Dismal. Only ten cases sold and two casks to the regional bottler for a blend.

  “No wonder everything’s gone to hell, that’s not enough to cover expenses. Damn.” She shoved back her chair and tiptoed into the parlor. Once around the corner she pulled out the phone and dialed her friend.

  “Hello, Mary? It’s Fiona. Sorry to bother you so late, but it looks like I’m going to be gone a bit longer. Could you look after my flat?”

  She closed the phone and looked around the room that was once the center of their family. Suddenly it looked shabby and uncared for. Her mum had taken such pride in making curtains and chair covers. The wood always gleamed from the lemon oil. But now, stacks of newspapers covered the table, and dust covered the bookshelves and the china figurines her mum had loved.

  This task was more than she could handle, and she began to cry.

  Chapter Nine

  “Would you care for a bit more coffee, ma’am?” The server held a silver coffee pot.

  “Yes, thank you. It’s very good.” Reggie smiled. “I’m surprised you’re drinking tea,” she said as the server left.

  Bryce added cream to her cup. “I did it for a change when I arrived and found I really like it. Feels right.” She finished stirring and took a sip. “I’m sorry you have to head out so soon.”

  “Me, too. But I only have a couple of sites on the north coast, and I want to spend a little time at Balblair with Tony. He owes me dinner. Then I’ll come back so we can wrap things up.”

  Bryce took a bite of the warm scone slathered with blackcurrant jam. She wiped her mouth and gazed out the window. There was time. “I think I’ll head down to Aberlour for a visit. They have some good local connections, and…the Walker shortbread is there.” She winked. “It’s Leo’s favorite.”

  “Hey, it’s mine, too.”

  “Yes, I will get you some as well. We may be able to ship it all back to the office.”

  “Good idea. Avoid the VAT if possible.” Reggie folded her napkin and stood. “I’m going to run up and get my things. Will you walk me out?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll wait here.” She lifted the bone china cup and sipped the tea. Oddly, the shortbread made her think of the dilapidated distillery and the mystery woman. What a shame that her business had withered. Bad economies hit everyone, but she always hated to see small distilleries close. They were always such an important part of local villages—like a heartbeat.

  She watched the sunbeams dance across the white lace curtains of the dining room. During her career with GDD, she’d seen international corporations swallow up large and small distillers. It was business. She understood, but it felt like time was moving faster and she was missing something. What? Time to smell the roses? Who knows?

  Bryce signed for the meal and headed for the lobby.

  “All set.” Reggie shifted her bag. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

  Bryce held the door. “Be safe and find a gem.”

  They walked down to the lot and Reggie put her bag in the trunk of her leased car. “This was a nice break. Good choice.”

  Bryce gave her a quick hug. “Give me a call when you get settled some place.”

  She waved as Reggie pulled out, but something niggled in the back of her mind. Reggie had been holding something back. It wasn’t like her not to brag about her exploits. She’d only briefly described her visits. It probably would have been a good idea to review her reports…too late now. Next time she’d be more careful.

  ****

  Aberlour was a short distance away on the A95. It became familiar as she got closer. It was a cozy, attractive little village with tidy homes, flower baskets, and friendly shops. After a quick stop at the Walker Bakery for several cartons of shortbread—including a few samples—she continued to the distillery, just a few hundred feet farther. The Scottish distilleries were each as unique as their whiskies. Most were at least a century old with proud histories as well as some tasty rumors.

  The sign on her left and the lovely gift shop welcomed her. She turned in and drove slowly back to the visitor area. It was a large complex with numerous buildings for malting, mashing, fermenting, distilling, bottling, and warehousing.

  After she parked and retrieved her bag, Bryce stood looking around for someone to guide her to the right office. One of the brightly painted red doors opened and a pretty young woman trotted down the steps. “Excuse me, can you help me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Are you lost then?” Her dimples and wild curly hair were enchanting.

  Bryce smiled. “Actually, I’m looking for someone in your marketing department. I’m with the Global Distillers and Distribution Company.” She offered her card.

  “Well then, why don’t I take you over there.” She gestured to a building behind them.

  “Have you worked here long?”

  “Not so long. This is my second summer. Last year I just ran errands and helped with the gift shop.” She pulled open a door. “Frances, this lady would like to see someone about marketing. I wasn’t sure…” She handed the card over.

  “That’s fine Brigid, thank you.” The older woman had a rather clipped brogue. Bryce wasn’t familiar enough to recognize it.

  Brigid smiled and backed out the door.

  “I believe you’ll need to see Mr. Marsh. Just a moment.”

  Bryce looked around the small office. The building looked to be newer—maybe ten years old—and rather Spartan. Still, the equipment was high tech.

  “Ms. Andrews, I’m John Marsh. Would you like some tea?” He stood over six feet and was quite distinguished. He pointed to a large room that could have been meant for meetings or lounging.

  “Tea would be lovely. I don’t want to take up your time, especially without an appointment, but I just wanted to introduce myself and our company.” She accepted the chair at a round table near the window.

  He unbuttoned his jacket and sat across from her. He looked to be Leo’s age, sixty or so. Comfortable in his skin, this man wasn’t new to the business. He wore the look of experience. He tapped her card on his fingertips.

  “Bryce Andrews. I believe our paths have crossed before. Can’t recall just now, but I’m certainly familiar with
Global. It’s a fine organization. What brings you up here?” He leaned back and tipped his head to one side.

  “Leo Edelman sent us on a mission to find some unusual small-batch whisky.” She accepted the teacup.

  He looked up. “Leo? My word, I haven’t seen him in ages. How is the old rascal?”

  She paused mid-sip. “You know Leo?”

  “Oh, sure. We met about…I’d say fifteen or so years ago. We met at an International Whisky Symposium in Edinburgh. If I’m correct, we shared several cocktails and some good stories. So you work with him?”

  “Yes, I started almost fifteen years ago in Chicago. When we opened a west coast office, Leo made me regional manager.”

  “I shouldn’t think you’re old enough. Must have started young.” He smiled.

  “As a matter of fact, I did. I worked in a vineyard part-time in high school. I majored in sales and marketing with a minor in chemistry. But, I had my eye on distribution. Leo hired me on a whim, I guess, because I sure was green.”

  “I suspect old Leo has some sixth sense about business—always has. So what can I do for you? I doubt you’re here to purchase the distillery.”

  “Not that I wouldn’t love to rep Aberlour, but I’m sure Pernod Ricard might object.” They both laughed. “Actually, I hoped you might know of some new local brands that might benefit from wider distribution.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Are you looking for single malts?”

  “Yes, but if you can think of anyone doing something new and different, it might be worth a visit for me.”

  He leaned forward and set down his cup. “There may be a couple of chaps… Will you be in the area long?”

  “Maybe a week. I’m staying at the Highlander Inn over in Craigellachie. My cell number is on the card.” She caught the look at his watch that meant she should leave. “I really appreciate your time.” She stood.

  “It was my pleasure. Please give Leo my regards, and I’ll see what I can dig up for you.”

  Bryce shook his hand as he held the door.

  “Thank you, John. I’ve enjoyed meeting you.”

  At the end of the driveway she paused and then turned left. The internal dialogue had continued in the twisty corridors of her mind for some time. Between Reggie’s odd behavior and the eerie feeling she got from the spooky old distillery, Bryce felt driven to find at least one answer today.

  The highway wandered through the scenic valley beside the River Spey. Wooded hillsides bordered the fields and a handful of farms. The air smelled like freshly tilled earth when she opened her windows. It was glorious.

  On the left side, she spotted a large white sign for the Glenfarclas distillery. She might come back to that if she had time. For now, she needed to turn off on the side road at Marypark. That would take her across the Spey and up the B9102. The route actually seemed familiar now.

  A text sounded through Bluetooth.

  “Message from John Marsh. Read it or ignore.”

  “Read it.”

  “I found two names and will email their info. Have a good day.”

  Fist bump. Somehow, she knew he’d have something. Things were looking up. At least she was beginning to feel the time hadn’t been wasted. If they could sign one or two, that might start things moving. It was a good guess that new entrepreneurs weren’t thinking about global distribution right out of the gate. And so far, most were even surprised at the idea. That Leo…clever guy.

  She slowed the car as she neared what she had lovingly nicknamed “dead man’s curve.” For sure, a ginormous vehicle would soon appear.

  None did, so she steered into the long, weed-choked driveway past the orchard. The sound of machinery meant someone might be around. Near the house, she spotted the open front door and smiled.

  She shut off the motor. What the hell am I here for? Her hands trembled a little and her mouth dried up. It seemed like a good idea.

  “Hi there.”

  Bryce followed the sound to the side of the house and an overgrown garden. It was her. Same hair, same face.

  She waved and opened the car door. “Hi. Since I was over in Aberlour, I thought I might swing by…and, well, see how things are going.” Her cheeks felt warm and she felt silly. “I would’ve called, but I didn’t have a number…”

  “I’m glad. It’s nice to have some company.” Fiona pulled off her work gloves and shoved them in her back pocket. After she brushed her hands off on her jeans, she swiped her dark auburn hair from her forehead. “I was ready for a break and something cold to drink. Can you stay a bit and join me?” Her dimpled smile lit up her face.

  Bryce gripped her keys a little tighter. “That sounds good.”

  Fiona pointed to some chairs on the small porch. “Great. Have a seat. Would you like water, tea, or beer? That’s what I’m having.”

  “Water, I think.” She sat in one of the old-fashioned, handmade wood chairs. It was comfortably worn.

  “Be out in a minute.”

  The sun was filtered through the large oak branches and flowering pastel apple blossoms. The machine noise had stopped, and it was quiet.

  She stretched her legs and crossed her ankles, then took a deep breath. Nice. From this vantage point, she could see beyond the orchard to the wooded hill beyond. Highland hills were numerous and majestic. Gently rounded, it was hard to determine their immense size unless there was a marker, like a stone fence or tree line.

  Raised voices came from deep in the house. A man and woman, presumably Fiona and maybe her father. Bryce wondered if she should step away and not eavesdrop, but the screen door swung open.

  “Sorry about that.” Fiona handed her a glass. “My dad can be ornery and quite stubborn.”

  “I understand. My mother can be the same way.”

  Fiona sighed loudly and leaned back. “I think this is the first I’ve sat all day. When I came home from Edinburgh, it was to check on my dad, and now it looks like I may need to take a leave of absence to take care of things because he can’t and there’s no one else.”

  Bryce watched and thought she saw tears forming. “Is your father ill?”

  “He’s been depressed for some time since my mother died suddenly several years ago. But lately, Murray says he’s been confused, forgetful, and unpredictable.” She gulped her beer. “A few days ago he fell and we had to get him to the A & E for x-rays and some stitches.” Her voice cracked. “I’m afraid to leave him unattended.”

  She swiped tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be going on like this with a kind stranger. You’ll be thinking we’re all daft.”

  “Please, don’t worry. I understand how frustrating it can be. Besides, you have an awful lot to deal with around here.” She gestured around her. “Isn’t there anyone who can help you?”

  “I have cousins, but they don’t live near and I’m not close with them. Sort of a black sheep, if you know what I mean.”

  Bryce thought she knew exactly what she meant and nodded. “Yeah, that makes it difficult.”

  Around the corner of the porch, a wiry, balding chap appeared. He seemed frail except for his small, almost-black eyes. He pulled off his worn wool cap. “Beggin’ your pardon, but I got the generator running, so if you want me to watch himself while you run your errand…”

  “Thanks, Murray, I almost forgot. Sorry, Bryce, this is Murray our foreman. Ms. Andrews is visiting from America.”

  He nodded. “Pleased to meet ya. Fiona, just let me know when you need to go.” He turned and was gone like an apparition.

  “I should probably let you get on with your errands…”

  “Do you need to be someplace? I mean if you wanted to go with me, we could still talk.”

  Bryce replayed. Did she just ask me to stay? She looked up and saw Fiona looking at her expectantly.

  “No, I don’t have other plans.” She smiled. “I’d enjoy that.”

  Chapter Ten

  “The market is just there.” Fiona pointed and Bryce turned left into a smal
l lot.

  “Since we’re here, I’d like to pick up some more tea,” Bryce said.

  “Shopping isn’t convenient. This store in Archiestown is the closest, but if I need anything more, I have to go to Craigellachie or Aberlour.” She picked up a plastic shopping basket and hurried down the single aisle.

  Bryce stood looking around in fascination. So many strange names and brands. There was an occasional familiar product. And the produce looked good. The tea selection was vast and it took a minute to pick a couple of favorites. Lady Grey was a favorite but not always easy to find in the U.S.

  “All set,” Fiona said, her basket filled with items.

  As the clerk added the total, Bryce cleared her throat. “Since you’re off your leash, would you like to get a bite to eat?”

  Fiona spun around. “That’s brilliant. I haven’t eaten and the hotel has a lovely restaurant.”

  Bryce paid for her tea. “I think since I barged in on you, the least I could do is buy you lunch.”

  “That really isn’t necessary. After all, you offered to drive, so I should pay.”

  Bryce shook her head. “No.”

  Bryce unlocked the car and Fiona set her grocery bag in the back seat. “The hotel is just down there, if you feel like walking?”

  “Perfect. I’ve spent far too much time driving.”

  They walked along the tree-lined boulevard with neat stone cottages along the sides. A car passed and the driver waved. Fiona waved back. Two boys on bicycles rode past the Square monument to war heroes.

  Bryce fiddled with the keys in her pants pocket. Good thing she dressed up a bit for her meeting. At least she looked presentable. Side by side, Fiona was several inches taller with long legs. It was a comfortable silence. They walked in step at a slow pace, just enjoying the afternoon sun.

  “This hotel is two hundred years old.”

  Bryce looked up at the three-story building with dormers on two sides. The brown stone was greyed with age, but the royal blue door welcomed them. Whisky barrels holding planters filled with bright blue cornflowers marked off the patio and parking area.