Angels' Share (Bourbon Springs Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  Bo chuckled. “Maybe. But I just don’t see those two together,” Bo said. “He’s a bit—I don’t know—stuffy. And CiCi is kind of the opposite of that.”

  “A bit cedar and cinnamon, but not completely,” Hannah said, referring to opposite flavors on the bourbon flavor wheel. “It will be very interesting to watch.”

  “You think those two—?” Bo shook his head vigorously. “I just don’t know. I hope so, if it keeps our master distiller happy and here with us.”

  “It’s gonna happen. You’ll see,” Hannah said, and left his office.

  Chapter 17

  Lila was surprised but pleased when Emma called her one January day and asked whether she could lend a hand at the school, learning that Emma had been a middle school history teacher before her marriage to Cass. Emma proposed that she come to the school and give a lecture on the history of distilling in Kentucky.

  “I wish I’d thought of that,” Lila said. “And I can’t believe I didn’t know you had been a history teacher!”

  “I think we’re going to have plenty of time to get to know each other better,” Emma said. “And I promise that I will tell you every embarrassing story I can remember about Bo.”

  Within the week, Emma was at the school and giving a talk on bourbon history to three of Lila’s history classes. The students were polite and attentive and Emma Davenport was an excellent and engaging instructor; she had countless interesting stories and jokes about bourbon, and Lila made a mental note to ask Emma for a distillery tour someday. Emma stayed for lunch and the two women ate in the school cafeteria.

  “Sorry I can only offer you cafeteria food,” Lila said after she and Emma had situated themselves at a table in the cafeteria near the doors and far away from most of the students.

  “This actually doesn’t look half bad,” Emma said as she looked over her simple lunch of a turkey sandwich, some fruit and a bottle of water.

  “It is better than when I used to attend here, that’s for sure,” Lila said, and tucked into her salad.

  “Bo always brought his lunch,” Emma said, “but I think Hannah bought hers. Not sure. It’s been a while.”

  “You were great with the students today, Emma,” said Lila. “I bet you were a wonderful teacher.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she demurred, “but I do remember that I loved it. I still do. I love history.”

  “Did you meet your husband while you were still teaching?” Lila asked, and stabbed at her salad with a plastic fork.

  “Yes,” Emma said, glancing at her still-untouched sandwich. “I had been teaching a year or two when we met during BourbonDaze. He was playing a typical carnival game—you know, the one where you throw a ball and knock down bottles—and he wasn’t very good at it. I started giggling, he heard me, and challenged me to do better. So I did, and beat him. But I ended up giving him the prize that I won—a big teddy bear.”

  “That’s a sweet story.”

  “After that, the man would not leave me alone. So I had to marry him to shut him up,” Emma said with a grin and picked up her sandwich to take a bite.

  “When did you start working at the distillery?” Lila asked after Emma had swallowed.

  “Soon after we married. I quit my job to go to work at Old Garnet. Don’t regret it for a single minute, although I did miss—still do, I guess—interacting with kids. But it’s not like I don’t get my necessary dose of history. I love the sense of history that lingers over the distillery property. It’s like you can feel it,” Emma said, and stared past Lila as she tried to put her feelings into words.

  “I feel like that, too, when I go to certain places,” Lila admitted, and thought of the springs. “But I’ve never heard anyone else say they could sense the history of a place. Glad to know it’s not just me or my imagination.”

  “Of course you can feel it,” Emma said matter-of-factly. “And it’s not your imagination. You don’t have to be a history teacher to get the sense of a place. I’ve tried to describe how it feels to Hannah and Bo—it’s so important for them to have an understanding of the history of that property—but while they both get the dates and facts right, I fear they don’t feel the same way.”

  “Not even Bo?”

  “Maybe, but I’m not sure. Once I tried to describe it to him. I said it was like a nervous chatter in your head, like you’re picking up snatches of conversations or feelings from long ago but can’t quite make out what someone was saying or doing. It’s an acute, almost painful awareness of place and time. I think he thought I was a little nuts, so I never brought it up again.”

  “That’s the best description of it I’ve ever heard,” Lila said, feeling as though she had been allowed to share in a great revelation. “It’s like my mind is trying to tune into something from the past.”

  “Oooh, that’s a good description, too,” agreed Emma. “You know, it’s a real shame that some people don’t like history, but I guess I can understand why. It’s because it wasn’t presented right. They had some class and maybe it was dull, boring. But history is just one big collection of stories, isn’t it? That’s what we humans do—we put our dreams, our problems, our joys, into stories to try to make sense of the world and entertain ourselves at the same time. It makes us feel better. It’s why we watch television, it’s why we read. We have this insatiable urge to know what happens next, that’s why we keep reading or watching even if the book or show is terrible. So it’s all in the presentation, in my opinion.”

  “I think if you decided to come back and teach, I would soon be out of a job,” Lila marveled.

  “No chance of either of those things. My place is at the distillery. It’s just a different classroom for me. I’m surrounded by history there, as we all are wherever we go.”

  “Some places just do a better job of reminding us of the history around us,” Lila said, and took a sip of water from her bottle.

  “Like the springs?” Emma ventured to suggest, and Lila nodded. “I’ve never been there,” Emma noted. “Bo and Hannah told me that it’s quite lovely. Hannah was particularly impressed. I remember her saying how honored she was that you showed them to her.”

  Lila wondered whether Bo had shared her secret about the springs with his mother, but doubted it. They were talking mostly about history, not family, although where Lila lived the two were forever joined in her heart and on her land.

  “I’d love to take you there sometime, Emma,” Lila said, and leaned forward. “I know you’d enjoy it—you’d feel it, to use the terms we’ve been throwing around.”

  “From what my children tell me, the hike there could be a little treacherous and I’m not exactly a spring chicken. I’m not as sure-footed as I used to be.”

  “It’s probably not the best to go in the winter,” Lila agreed, “but spring would be perfect. I promise to take you there in spring, unless you want to make the hike in the winter.”

  “Spring it is, Lila. It’s a date. I’ll be there.”

  The two women continued to chat about the distillery, and Emma lived up to her promise and told a few embarrassing stories about Bo when he was a little boy.

  “He filled the toilet with mothballs?”

  “Every last one we had in the house, yes,” Emma said, and rolled her eyes at the recollection. “And to this day I still do not know why. He claims he doesn’t even remember doing it. And gracious! The smell of all those mothballs in one spot! That scent lingered in our bathroom forever, I tell you! I swear that sometimes I can go in there and still smell it!”

  After a few more stories, lunch was over and it was time for Emma to leave. As Lila reached and grabbed the trash off the table, Emma glanced at Lila’s left hand.

  “May I ask you a very personal question, Lila?” Emma said. “Widow-to-widow?”

  “Sure,” Lila said, taken aback at the serious turn in the conversation.

  Emma looked down at Lila’s hands once more. “When did you stop wearing your rings?”

  It was a q
uestion Lila hadn’t heard in a while, and when anyone had had the temerity to ask her that question, it usually had made her very upset. But for the first time since she’d become a widow, the question didn’t foreshadow tears. Lila looked at her left hand, then to Emma.

  “Around the same time I moved back to Bourbon Springs,” Lila said. “A few years ago. I guess I stopped wearing them because I wanted a new start. It was hard to keep looking at my hands and have that reminder.”

  Lila looked at Emma’s hand and saw that she was still wearing her rings. Her engagement ring was a large round solitaire in yellow gold, set off by alternating channel-set diamonds and red stones that had to be garnets. It topped a simple gold wedding ring.

  “How long were you married?” Emma asked.

  “Around five years,” she replied softly. “I hope you don’t think any less of me for not wearing my rings anymore,” Lila added, and glanced at Emma’s set.

  “Not at all,” Emma assured her. “I wear mine to remember the good times—I was blessed to have so many. I can completely understand why a young widow wouldn’t want to wear them. Besides, it’s a good sign, a sign of optimism, isn’t it? You’re looking ahead, not back. And you have a lot to look forward to, Lila,” Emma said and looked directly into Lila’s eyes.

  “I hope so,” Lila whispered. Lila had thought that once before—before her parents died, before her husband died. But that future was gone—it never really existed, except in her mind. The one she’d expected, the one she’d thought she deserved. Now she was prepared to believe again in the promise of a bright future now that Bo was in her life.

  “I know so, dear,” Emma said, and grabbed one of Lila’s hands across the table. “I have never seen my son so happy. Never in his entire life.”

  Lila blinked back tears and dropped her head. “Don’t make me cry in front of all these kids,” she joked.

  “Promise me that you’ll always give him hell when he needs it, but forgive him when he realizes he deserved it.”

  “I promise,” Lila said, and laughed.

  “And a word to the wise, Lila,” Emma said in a serious tone.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t let him near any mothballs. Ever.”

  “Tell me again how I got suckered into this?” Lila griped.

  “You volunteered, remember?” Bo asked.

  “That’s not the way I recall it.”

  Bo had the bright idea to hold a surprise party for Hannah’s birthday in late January, and had enlisted Lila’s help. It had quickly become apparent Bo had no clue how much work it would require to not only plan the event but to keep it a secret from Hannah, whose social radar was second only to CiCi’s. They weren’t so stupid that they were holding the party on the actual birthday—that would have been a dead giveaway to Hannah, especially considering the plan to lure her to the party. On a Saturday night, Bo was going to call his sister and ask her to come to the distillery to talk about Walker. That would sufficiently alarm Hannah to get her out of the house. Kyle, being the noble and protective husband, would naturally accompany his lovely wife out into the dark, cold January night.

  Emma had helped, of course. She had been the one to suggest holding the festivities in the tasting room, and to move the large U-shaped table, which was in portions, off to the sides of the room to use as serving areas. They would have a nice view of the creek while there was still a glint of light in the western sky beyond Old Crow Creek.

  It was to be a small affair, with only a few guests, and catered by distillery café staff. In addition to the family, Rachel, Brady, CiCi, and Walker were all invited. Bo noted that Walker had seemed loathe to attend the event, claiming it sounded like a family affair and he didn’t want to intrude. But then Bo let it slip that CiCi was invited, and the master distiller quickly changed his mind.

  Emma, Bo, and Lila gathered in the tasting room to put last-minute touches on some decorations and to make sure all the food was in the proper place. Lila was getting increasingly grumpy because she was up a stepladder struggling to hang a banner that said HAPPY BIRTHDAY on a wall. Seeing that Lila was having trouble and that Bo was more interested in admiring and arranging the bottles of Old Garnet set near the food, Emma came to Lila’s aid.

  “Thanks,” Lila said as she descended the stepladder after the two women had successfully put the banner on the wall.

  Rachel and Brady were the first to arrive, shortly followed by Goose (but not Lucy; she had a cold), and all three immediately offered to help in any way.

  “I think the best way might be to keep a watch at the front doors to see when Kyle and Hannah pull up,” Lila suggested. Brady agreed to stand watch, kissed Rachel on the cheek, and left the room.

  Rachel went to greet Emma, who was dressed in a lovely deep red sweater and black pants. Emma hugged her, and complimented her own outfit: a mid-length black skirt with a wool purple tunic. Goose followed to greet Emma and gave her a big hug.

  “And how are you?” Rachel asked Lila as she walked toward her after getting herself some water in a cup. Rachel held out an arm and gave her a hug. “You look great.”

  “Thanks,” Lila said.

  “She’s right, Lila,” Emma agreed, and nodded. “That color—what is it—periwinkle? Perfect for you.”

  Lila was wearing a light purplish-blue cashmere sweater and a black pencil skirt.

  “So what’s the cover story for getting Hannah down here?” Goose asked. “I’m still not convinced we’ll be able to surprise her.”

  Emma explained that Bo was going to call and say they needed to talk business. Upon hearing his name, Bo joined the group and they all chatted for about a minute until CiCi’s arrival.

  Compared to the last time Lila had seen her, CiCi looked absolutely demure in a pair of black dress pants and gray angora sweater. Her only nod to a bit of eccentricity was a large sparkly brooch on the left side of her sweater.

  “That’s pretty,” Lila said, and pointed to the brooch when CiCi joined them near the windows.

  “Take a closer look,” CiCi said, and Lila and the others peered at the bauble.

  A smile spread across Rachel’s face as she studied the item. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “A bottle of bourbon?” Lila asked, her eyes wide with amusement, and looked to Goose for confirmation, who nodded.

  “Let me see that,” Bo said, and moved to get a better glimpse of the trinket.

  “Yep, it’s a bottle,” CiCi confirmed.

  On CiCi’s sweater was a bottle-shaped pin, adorned with a multitude of what seemed to be golden or amber-colored crystals. Across the body of the bottle in tiny red crystals were marked out several little xs, the traditional comical label denoting alcohol.

  “Where did you find that?”

  “Internet,” she said, and shrugged. “I figure it’s a good thing to have since I’m on the BourbonDaze committee.”

  At that moment, Walker entered the room as everyone was peering at CiCi and her quite ample chest. Lila saw Walker redden just a little before walking toward the gathered guests.

  “Hey, Walker,” called Bo, “come look at what Little Miss BourbonDaze has here.”

  Lila looked scandalized and was about to put a sharp elbow into Bo’s ribs when Brady reappeared.

  “They just pulled into the parking lot,” he said, switching off the lights.

  The group tucked itself into the corner farthest from the door and waited. Within the next minute, Hannah’s distinctive voice echoed through the lobby, full of incomprehensible complaints. Lila heard someone fumbling with the door, and then heard Hannah curse.

  “I feel like crap all day and then Bo drags me out like this. And this damn door is locked! He couldn’t get it together to at least beat us here? I’m gonna kill him!” A small clattering, followed by more cursing, announced that a jumble of keys had hit the floor just outside the tasting room.

  Lila clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent her laughter from escaping, and she heard Goose
snickering.

  “Don’t do that. I don’t want to have to arrest you,” said Kyle.

  “Did you bring your cuffs?” Hannah asked.

  There was then a period where no one could make out quite what was being said between Hannah and Kyle, but the couple finally exploded in a fit of giggles.

  “And why here? Why couldn’t he come to the house?” Hannah demanded. “Or is this some kind of huge practical joke on his part?” A jangling noise ensued, and Lila could tell someone was picking up the dropped keys from the hardwood floor.

  “Hannah, you’re talking about Bo—the guy that you once said left his imagination along with his Superman lunchbox on the school bus when he was six and never went back to get either of them,” Kyle said.

  When Brady snickered, Bo turned to him.

  “At least I didn’t get kicked out of vacation bible school twice!” Bo whispered, making Rachel titter.

  “Shut it!” Lila hissed in the dark.

  “And just why the tasting room?” Hannah asked as the group quieted.

  “Said he wanted to meet here to show you the track lighting still wasn’t working right,” Kyle explained. “Made some crack about how the guys you hired messed up the job.”

  “He said what?” Hannah cried. “Why the hell didn’t he call Goose?”

  “Not a clue,” Kyle replied.

  A scraping noise indicated that key had finally found lock and the tasting room door swung open. In the next second, the lights were flipped on and Hannah appeared, looking up into the brightness.

  Hannah grunted, her eyes turned upward with one fist on a hip. “That track lighting looks fine to me—”

  “SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” the group yelled in unison.

  Hannah screamed and jumped backward, bumping into her husband. She nearly fell but Kyle caught her before she landed on her rear.

  “I think I peed in my pants!” Hannah cried, and put a hand on her chest as Kyle helped her to her feet. She was wearing dark gray trousers and a pink sweater, which perfectly set off her blonde hair and pale features. She turned to her husband. “How did you keep this a secret?”