Upon their arrival at the distillery, Harriet again thanked Walker and parted ways with him, with Walker heading to the distillery building and Harriet to the visitors’ center.
The place was even more hectic and cramped than usual because in the middle of the floor, directly underneath the domed area, a group of workers was diligently toiling at completely destroying a large section of the floor.
“Quite a mess, isn’t it?”
Harriet spun and saw Goose behind her. After a quick kiss, she asked what the workers were doing. “Finally got those pieces of old flooring replaced you were complaining about?”
“Much more than a repair,” he said, urging her toward the work area. “Remember my idea?”
“Idea? Oh—the bourbon flavor wheel?”
“Yeah, Hannah, Bo and Walker—especially Walker—thought it was great.” He pointed to the work area, where boards were scattered amid the dust. “You’re looking at the future site of what will be the world’s largest bourbon flavor wheel.”
“What will the material be? Stone? Brick? More of those wooden planks?”
He looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Oh, come on,” he implored. “Surely you know the answer.” She shrugged, completely blank on what he could be talking about. “Oak, of course,” he sighed.
The wood used to make a barrel into which the white dog, the clear distillate that came directly from the still, was poured. The wood that gave that liquid a home, transforming it into bourbon.
“I should’ve known that,” she said and followed him into the café.
“I’ll go easy on you this time since your last name isn’t Davenport. Not like you grew up around this stuff or it’s in your blood,” he said, laughing.
Hannah, Bo, and Lila were already in the café at a large round table near the window. Hannah saw them, waved, and stood to greet Harriet, whom she pulled into a big hug as she squealed.
“She kinda knows,” Goose said as Harriet looked at him in surprise.
“I kinda figured that out,” Harriet said as she returned Hannah’s hug.
“Like I couldn’t figure it out!” Hannah cried and pulled away from the hug. She held on to Harriet’s forearms and smiled at her, then at her cousin.
“How?” Harriet asked.
“Goose asked me to lunch,” Hannah replied. “Said he had something to tell me, and I could tell from how he asked that it was good news.”
“Asked me point-blank.” Goose looked at the ceiling, hands on his hips and shaking his head.
“What did she—” Harriet started to say.
“Bet you can guess, Harriet,” teased Lila, who was sitting next to Bo at the table. “You were here that day when we gave it to CiCi so bad about Walker. Remember what we asked her?”
Harriet cast her mind back to the spring and that meeting they’d had at the distillery café when CiCi’s relationship with Walker was in its early stages.
Harriet reddened, but confirmed what everyone already knew. “Yes, Goose and I are having a thing.” She laughed and wished CiCi had been there to enjoy the embarrassing moment.
While Hannah and Lila laughed, Goose and Bo just looked at each other and shook their heads in that silent, manly way that conveyed their confusion about the opposite sex on such occasions.
Thankfully, no one requested details such as how, when, and how many times, not that Harriet really expected such a rude inquiry. Hannah, Bo, and Lila were simply happy for them, and Harriet was struck at how easy it was to be in their presence, how comforting.
Like family.
But wait! a little voice in her head screamed.
Not family.
You’re the attorney.
They’re clients.
Goose is your guy.
Remember where the lines are and stay inside them.
Her problem was that at that moment, she didn’t want to be their attorney.
She wanted to be part of the family she saw before her.
A part of the family she felt accepted her.
Crap.
One stupid legal opinion wasn’t enough to clear up all this. Had Bruce been right?
Harriet put worries out of her mind as they all went through the line at the café and returned to the table with sandwiches, drinks, and chips. As they ate, Goose and Harriet gave the others a briefing on the meeting with the curator at the history center, explaining how they would have to get the boundary issue fixed before anything else could go forward. Harriet reported she would start pestering the people with the state on Monday to get an answer on whether there would be any problems in establishing the property line.
When Harriet spied Hannah unwrapping a brownie to share with Lila, she asked about the scrumptious-looking treat.
“Bourbon brownie,” Hannah said, “with candied pecans on top. New item I’ve been meaning to try.”
Harriet nudged Goose in the ribs. “Tell her about your creation.” He’d just taken a big bite of a roast beef sandwich so she brought it up as Goose struggled to chew and swallow. “Has he ever told you about the ice cream he makes?”
“Ice cream?” Lila asked. “You’ve got my attention.”
“Mine too,” Hannah said, spearing some of the brownie with a plastic fork. “What’s he not been telling us?’
“It’s just ice cream,” Goose said after he swallowed his bite.
Harriet poked him again. “Not exactly.”
“Okay, okay,” he surrendered. “I call it Cinnamon Garnet. It’s a vanilla-cinnamon base with Old Garnet added.”
“And it’s wonderful,” Harriet said. “We ate the last of it last night.”
“So when can we taste some of this?” Bo asked. “I’ve got a sweet tooth too, you know.”
“Well—”
“He promised to make some more for me tonight,” Harriet said.
“We’ll see.” He laughed, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed strain and resistance.
As lunch wound down, the group discussed Lila’s small bridal shower the following weekend and the wedding, set for the Saturday of the Thanksgiving holiday weekend.
“Looks like you’ve both got a date for the wedding now,” Hannah said to Goose and Harriet after Lila and Bo had left to take a walk on the distillery grounds together. Hannah watched her brother walk out of the café hand in hand with his fiancée. “If you’d told me a year ago that those two would be getting married in a year’s time, I’d have laughed you right out of this distillery,” Hannah said as she shook her head.
Goose excused himself to go to the bathroom, but promised to return so he could take Harriet home and put the new tires on her car.
“New tires on your car?” Hannah whispered to Harriet as Goose left them and walked across the visitors’ center in a wide arc to avoid the workers. “That some kind of little naughty reference to what you two have planned for the rest of the afternoon?”
“No! My tires really did get slashed! That’s why we took the new van yesterday.”
“Teasing, teasing! Sorry, I just can’t help myself,” she said in a fit of laughter.
Hannah put an arm around Harriet’s shoulders, Harriet mirrored the gesture, and the women walked toward Hannah’s office.
“I’ll e-mail you the ethics opinion, Hannah,” Harriet said. “I just got it yesterday, and—well—things kind of took off from there.”
“I understand,” Hannah said. “And see? I told you so! I get to say that! You got that yes you wanted! You just had to ask. And look how happy you are now!”
“Goose wasn’t really happy about it when I told him I’d asked for an opinion. Didn’t understand why I had to ‘ask permission,’ as he put it.”
“Looks like he got over it,” Hannah observed.
They had reached the spot in the hallway outside Hannah’s office, and the women dropped their arms from around the other’s shoulders.
“That’s one way to put it,” Harriet said with a big grin.
She tu
rned her head to see Goose in the visitors’ center, walking toward them. Once he joined the women, he told Hannah he needed to go out to some of the rickhouses to check on something but would be back soon to start the next tour. But Hannah urged him to take Harriet home so he could put the tires on her car.
“Everything is under control here,” she insisted. “Go have some fun.”
“Changing tires is not exactly what I consider fun,” Goose said, but agreed to go, telling Hannah he’d be back late in the afternoon.
“Bet I can guess what is your idea of fun,” Hannah quipped before turning on her heel and leaving them speechless.
Goose took Harriet back to her condo and got the tires on her vehicle quickly—a little too quickly for Harriet’s liking since she didn’t want him to leave. It was shortly before dinnertime when he finished with the job, and Harriet invited him inside for something to drink.
He wiped his brow with an old bandana he pulled from the back pocket of his jeans. “Just water. Have to drive back to the distillery.”
While he’d been working outside, Harriet had been inside her condo, preoccupied with what Jon had told her as well as Bruce’s reaction to the news of her new relationship. Goose noticed her jitteriness and called her on it after she’d handed him his water. She told him what had happened with Jon and Bruce and watched his demeanor turn from interested to annoyed to enraged. By the time she’d finished telling him Bruce’s reaction, sticking to a general description of his unhappiness rather than provide details about his legal concerns, Goose was sitting at the kitchen counter, hunched and tense.
“I’ll tell you exactly what happed with Evie Colyard,” Goose said in a low, slightly menacing voice. “Can’t believe that damn story won’t die, although I guess it’s progress that Colyard didn’t throw it in your face.”
He shoved his glass away, clasped his hands on top of the counter, and started his tale.
“This was a year or so after I’d gotten the job at the sheriff’s office, probably a dozen or so years ago. Anyway, I got invited to this party or heard about it. I went, but of course I wasn’t on duty or in uniform. Evie Colyard was there with a bunch of older people I knew. She didn’t seem like the field party type—kind of a spoiled kid was my impression of her—but she’d been drinking and was feeling good. We started talking, went off by ourselves, made out. That was it. At some point, she realized I was a Davenport, started talking about bourbon and wanting some. In fact, she demanded I get it for her—that I take her somewhere and get her some Garnet.
“I told her I wasn’t about to take her anywhere, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to get her any Garnet. Although she didn’t drink in front of me, I could tell she’d been drinking beer, and she certainly didn’t need any more booze. I should’ve gotten the hell out of there, but I didn’t have the chance because Evie had a damned hissy fit on me. First she was pouty, then angry, then became threatening. Said she’d get me back and all that. I just wanted to get away from her at that point, since I was afraid she’d start making accusations that I’d raped her or something. She was that crazy because I didn’t give her what she wanted. Way too used to getting her way, I could see. So I walked away from her, and she followed me back to the party, screaming all the way. One of her friends finally came along, and I left her with the friend and ran for it. Then the next thing I know is my dad is calling me into his office the next Monday morning, claiming Bruce Colyard had called him and was demanding my head on a plate. So I told him just what I told you. I have no fucking idea how Evie ended up naked and on her own. Just a stunt to get attention—and get revenge on me. That’s what I think happened to this day.”
Harriet wondered why she’d never heard this story, but she did the math and realized she had been away at college when the events probably occurred. She then wondered how many other stories she hadn’t heard about Goose from the time she was away at college and law school. The tale was consistent with what Jon had told her, but even though Goose’s explanation was plausible, she found the whole account sordid and disturbing. She hated hearing this stuff about him. It hurt her because it made some small, callow part of herself doubt him, and that in turn made her feel guilty and hypocritical.
Harriet put her arms around him from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder. “I knew Evie from school and because I’ve worked for Bruce now for five years. Been around her at some firm parties and events. Your impression of her is exactly right. She’s still a spoiled brat.”
“I shudder to think what could’ve happened. And you know what the stupid thing is? I have a feeling that she kept drinking that night and someone else could’ve spiked her drink with something—and that’s how she ended up in the state she did. I know how some guys work.”
Harriet dropped the subject of the past, hoping to keep it there. But she then told Goose that she was going to tell her parents about them.
“I’m going to do it tomorrow.” She released Goose from the embrace, grabbed his emptied glass, and put it in the dishwasher. “I’d wondered if they might have heard about us already—we did walk into Minnick’s holding hands, after all. But they’ve been out of town and should be back today. They haven’t called me to complain, which leads me to believe they don’t know.”
“Your dad still hates me, doesn’t he?” Goose said as he pushed away from the kitchen counter and stood.
“It’s safe to say you’ll have to work on winning him over.”
“What do you recommend?”
Harriet’s eyes looked distractedly around her kitchen as she tried to think of some small goodwill gesture Goose could make toward her father. Her gaze fell on the small flask Goose had brought her, which was still mostly full of Garnet Center Cut.
She walked to her counter, picked up the flask, and held it up.
“If you can get your hands on some more of this, I think it would help.”
“I don’t know if I can ask Walker for that kind of stuff.”
“Of course you can. He thinks highly of you.”
“He does?”
She told him Walker’s comment to her during the drive to the distillery earlier in the day.
Goose smiled. “I’ll ask and see what happens.”
“So, tonight? Ice cream?” she asked.
“Is that all you want to eat?”
“If that’s all you have to offer, yes.”
“You can have your ice cream and dinner too. What would you like?”
She thought for a moment. “Burgers? Out on your deck?”
“How do barrel-stave grilled burgers sound?”
“Too good to be true,” she said. “You get the chips at the distillery?”
He confirmed he did. “They really ought to start selling bags of broken staves at the gift shop. I just pick up the litter when a barrel gets damaged.”
“And the ice cream—I’ll have to remember to save some of that ice cream so you can give samples of it to Hannah, Bo, and Lila,” she said. “That will be hard. Wait—what’s wrong?”
Harriet had noticed Goose’s brow wrinkle when she started talking about the ice cream. And then she recalled how he had seemed reluctant to talk about it during lunch at the distillery.
“The ice cream—like I said, that’s sort of a family recipe. And I guess I should’ve told you that I’m not really sure whether I want to share it.”
“Oh, I had no idea. Like a secret recipe?”
“Well, it’s special in my family, and I don’t know how I feel about sharing it with anyone. I shared it with you because you’re so special to me.”
“But Hannah and Bo and Lila—”
“Harriet, I wasn’t referring to them. The ice cream was my mom’s recipe—well, I think she got it from my grandmother. I’ve heard stories she used to sell it years ago, even as far back as some of the first BourbonDaze festivals forty or fifty years ago. It was very popular, I understand, but my granny got older and didn’t want to make it in large batches anymore. So we kept i
t to ourselves. It’s a recipe from my side of the family, not from Hannah and Bo’s side.”
“But they’re still your family.”
“Yes, they’re my cousins. But we had different upbringings. They grew up with Old Garnet because that’s what their dad owned. For my family, Old Garnet wasn’t part of our present; it was part of our past. And—I guess you need to know this—my side of the family wasn’t always on the best terms with Cass Davenport’s side,” he said, referring to Hannah and Bo’s deceased father.
“I think we’d better sit down for this conversation,” Harriet said, a bubble of worry burgeoning in her gut.
They moved to the couch, where Harriet snuggled up against Goose’s warm chest, but he pulled her away and held her out at arm’s length.
“No, we need to be looking at each other when I tell you these things. It’s important for you to understand my family history. And, again, when I say my family, I mean my side of the Davenport family.”
“Tell me,” she said, wondering what secrets he was about to spill.
22
He nodded, pressed his lips together, and swallowed. Harriet was surprised by the struggle she sensed in him.
“My great-grandfather, Parker, and Bo and Hannah’s great-grandfather, George, were co-owners of Old Garnet about a hundred years ago. But Parker saw the handwriting on the wall, namely, Prohibition, and wanted out. Figured there was no future in making bourbon. So George bought him out, and old Parker thought he’d made the greatest deal in history since he was sure he’d sold his brother a destined-to-fail venture.
“But George was lucky enough to get a medicinal license from the federal government during Prohibition. That allowed him to bottle for medicinal purposes the stores he had on hand when Prohibition started and later gave him the ability to resume distilling bourbon. Only a handful of distilleries got that license; it was the equivalent of winning the lottery. So Old Garnet—the brand and the distillery and that side of the family—survived and thrived.”
Harriet did know some of this background—how one side had sold to the other, and how Old Garnet had only made it through Prohibition because of its medicinal license. But she hadn’t thought about the family dynamics behind these peculiar historical facts. History didn’t just have a big-picture impact, she knew. Because all of history boiled down to the same thing: personal stories, told or written a billion times over. But every story was different. And Goose had reminded her that his history, his story—even though a Davenport by name—was not the same as Hannah’s or Bo’s version.
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