Because of her frazzled emotional state, it was one of the worst client interviews Harriet had experienced. Linsey cried a lot, and little work got done. Linsey finally left around noon, saying she had to go because her babysitter was only available through the early afternoon.
At least Linsey had some semblance of closure: her husband had dumped her.
And although part of her heart was telling her it was over (Hello! He won’t even talk to you, girl!), another part, that part still clinging to hope and love, was telling her not to give up.
But that lunch hour as Harriet sat alone in her cold office, the more pessimistic side of her nature took over her thoughts, and she felt herself spiraling downward into gloom.
Maybe she’d know it was really over when she heard the next story of Goose and some woman getting together. Or worse, the stories. Plural. As in multiple women, multiple hookups. Although she’d not heard similar tales in the past five years about him, maybe that had been because she hadn’t listened for them. She’d been preoccupied with establishing a law practice and her relationship with Mark. And maybe no one had told her such nasty pieces of gossip because why on Earth would someone like perfect Harriet Hensley care about the antics of a rogue like Goose Davenport?
Late that afternoon, Hannah called Harriet to report she’d spoken with Bruce Colyard and that Jon Buckler would be taking over the issue with the deed. She also asked Harriet how she was doing.
“Not so great,” was Harriet’s honest answer. “He won’t talk to me until all this is over.”
“I guess that’s what his attorney advised him to do, but still…,” Hannah muttered. “He’s barely talking to me. I guess I can get that though. Tricky since your boss is technically on the other side of the dispute. But to shut you out—that’s mean.”
“He really cares about that land, Hannah.”
“Learned that the hard way, didn’t I? I should have listened to you and never have confronted Goose. I’m sorry for putting you both in such a terrible spot,” she sighed. “But enough of regrets! You’re still going to help me with Rachel’s shower here at the distillery, right? Don’t you dare tell me you’re backing out.”
“I think I’d feel a little awkward being there with everything that’s happened.”
“Nonsense. I won’t hear of it. You’ll always be welcome at my home, and that’s what Old Garnet is to me. If Goose makes you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome, he will feel my wrath, mark it down. Besides, on a purely selfish level, I need the help. It’s just CiCi, you, and me on this deal since Bo and Lila are gone, although I suppose Goose would help if asked.”
“Count on me being there,” Harriet promised and paused for a moment. “How are you going to handle Goose working there while being in the middle of a dispute?”
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling it will resolve itself soon. We might not be able to see eye to eye about the past, but that doesn’t mean we can’t agree on how to share a future. We’re still family and we want what’s best. Not just for Old Garnet, but for all of us.”
“I pray you’re right.”
“Harriet, pray about something else that’s worth praying about, like Bo and Lila’s happiness or the health of Rachel and the baby,” Hannah said in a sad voice. “No need to waste prayers on the stubbornness of us hardheaded Davenports. If we can’t get along, we’ll deserve every last bad thing that comes our way.”
Despite Hannah’s words, Harriet knew she’d still be praying for a quick resolution. Because her prayers weren’t entirely unselfish. The quicker a solution, perhaps the quicker she’d be back in the arms of the man she loved.
The next two weeks were long, lonely stretches of gray weather and gray moods. She’d heard from a friend in Lexington that Mark was indeed involved with his co-counsel; they’d been caught afterhours in Mark’s office in a compromising position, and their jobs at the firm were in jeopardy. While her instincts had been right, and Mark was getting his comeuppance, the knowledge brought her little satisfaction. Harriet concentrated on work, the only thing she felt she had, along with the modicum of planning necessary for the baby shower.
Hannah kept cajoling her to come to the distillery for lunch, ostensibly to talk and plan the shower, but she repeatedly declined. Hannah therefore had to settle for getting Harriet to her house, alone with CiCi, one Saturday afternoon to do a little planning. It was a strange replay of the meeting the three women had had when getting ready for Lila’s bridal shower, although the mood wasn’t nearly as jovial. And Harriet could only think about the last time she had been at Hannah’s home: that wonderful Thanksgiving they had shared.
As she left Hannah’s house and headed to her own empty townhome, Harriet wondered whether Goose was feeling even the slightest bit lonely.
They hadn’t spoken in over two weeks, and Harriet was feeling painfully alone; the anger about her situation had grown to form a big ball of resentment in her gut. Now she was at the point where she wasn’t sure how she’d handle it if or when Goose contacted her. Would she be elated? Or would she rip him another one for shutting her out?
But even that scenario involved a big assumption on her part.
That he would talk to her.
* * *
“I am more than ready,” Rachel said as she sank into a chair in the distillery café on the evening of the baby shower. “But the doctor says at least two more weeks. And just how twisted is it to have a baby shower at a distillery? It’s killing me! I swear I can smell the angels’ share even inside the visitors’ center!”
“Well, I can smell it, too,” Brady added. “You’re likely to smell bourbon at a distillery.”
“But you,” she said, poking her husband in the ribs, “can drink it.”
“Not as long as I’m designated driver for the foreseeable future.”
Harriet had just escorted the judges to seats of honor in the café. There were probably less than twenty people there, giving the event a cozy feel.
It was Harriet’s first visit to the distillery in nearly three weeks, and the second time she’d seen Goose in that time.
They had glimpsed each other at the farmer’s market the previous weekend. She’d gone to shop for a fresh balsam wreath and had been startled to see Goose there, helping his mother pick out a Christmas tree. Lucy had enthusiastically waved to her, then nudged her son to go and speak to her. But Harriet had left before that could come to pass. She didn’t want to speak to Goose with someone else present because she didn’t trust herself about what might come out of her mouth.
Harriet had seen him the moment she’d stepped foot in the visitors’ center on the afternoon of the baby shower; Goose had been escorting the last tour of the day into the tasting room. She’d locked eyes with him across the lobby when she’d entered laden with bags full of presents and party favors. She’d smiled at him, and he hadn’t smiled back but had glanced at her feet. She was wearing the boots.
Harriet had stormed into the café area, stung by his lack of regard, and resolved to avoid him for the duration of the shower.
“You two are acting like idiots, you know,” Hannah griped into Harriet’s ear as the two of them gathered gifts and put them on a table behind the spot where Rachel and Brady sat.
“Hannah, the man wouldn’t even smile at me today. What do you expect? For us to run across the room and fall into each other’s arms?”
“Actually, yeah,” Hannah said. “I’d love to see that.”
“I said expect not hope,” Harriet pointed out, and watched as CiCi and Walker kissed under a sprig of mistletoe at the entrance to the kitchen area.
Harriet scanned the crowd and saw the expected crew. Sherry, the judges’ secretary, was present as was Eleanor Giles, the Commonwealth Attorney, along with Jorrie Jones, an assistant prosecutor. In looking further, Harriet recognized several deputy circuit court clerks and sheriff’s deputies, but there was a notable absence: Craig District Judge Cara Forrest. When Harriet asked about Cara, Hannah in
formed her that Cara couldn’t come because she had a cold and didn’t want to risk giving it to the mother-to-be.
Hannah’s attention was distracted by a harsh noise against the windows of the café which overlooked the creek.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Hannah said. She walked over to the dark expanses of glass to investigate.
Harriet followed. “That’s ice!”
Hannah picked up her phone and called Kyle and after a short conversation seemed relieved. “He said there’s no ice where he is, and he’s out on the western edge of the county. Probably spotty and going to pass,” Hannah announced, and they left the window area to return to where Rachel and Brady were opening presents.
As the evening wore on, most of the guests left, citing the bad weather although the precipitation had stopped. Eventually only Hannah, Walker, CiCi, Harriet, Goose, and the parents-to-be were left at the café.
“Hannah,” Rachel said, tugging on her friend’s sleeve, “do you think there’s anything else back there I could eat? Like a turkey sandwich, some pretzels? My tummy’s upset, and I think a bite to eat would help.”
“Absolutely!” Hannah cried. “We had extra sandwiches made for just this occasion. Let’s all have a decent dinner and ditch this finger food.”
No one contradicted her, and Hannah asked for CiCi and Walker to come with her into the kitchen to help her with the food. Harriet was thus left alone by the gift table behind Brady and Rachel.
“You don’t look so great,” Brady said.
“I’m fine,” Rachel insisted and adjusted herself in her chair. “I only need to eat.”
“You need anything?” Harriet asked and patted Rachel on the shoulder before pulling up a seat next to her.
“Just something to put in my tummy. Mr. Worrywart here,” she said, jabbing a thumb in her husband’s direction, “thinks every little twinge or ache is an emergency.”
“It could be. You’re only two weeks out, and who knows what could happen?”
“Brady, we have used up our lifetime allotment of excitement, notoriety, or just plain weirdness. I’m not gonna drop this baby in the middle of the distillery café.”
“I certainly hope you’re right on the notoriety and weirdness part.” Brady put a hand on his wife’s belly and kissed her on the temple. “But I hope you’re wrong on the excitement part.”
Then he kissed Rachel on the lips while she brought a hand up to touch his face.
Harriet was about to look away when Brady’s hand flew off Rachel’s tummy at the same moment Rachel released an unhappy little cry.
“What the hell was that?” he asked. “I know you felt that!”
“Brady, it’s false labor, remember? We’ve been through this. Three times,” she said, emphasizing the last words. “I’m not scurrying out to the hospital again just to be told I’m an idiot and be sent home.”
Harriet left them to bicker and went back to the café windows because she heard that noise again. She stood there for a few seconds before she confirmed what she feared: the ice was back. She pulled out her phone and checked the forecast.
She was relieved when it said the ice was scattered and no significant accumulations would occur.
But what really had her worried was that following the ice some snow was predicted.
Harriet made for the kitchen to tell Hannah but not before Goose returned from the lobby. Their paths converged suddenly and awkwardly, and they both stopped.
“Do you know about the ice and snow?” she asked, not bothering with the pretense of niceties. She conveyed the news of bad weather and directed him to the café windows to listen to the ice. He silently stalked to the windows, and Harriet went into the kitchen to find Hannah, Walker, and CiCi ready to emerge with trays full of sandwiches, chips, and drinks. Harriet held a door open for them and reported the storm’s approach.
“Oh, maybe we need to get going,” CiCi said with a worried look at Walker. “We came here in my Mini, which isn’t the best thing to be in during a snow storm.”
“I just checked the most recent forecast,” Goose announced. The ice has stopped, and the most recent forecast is only a dusting of snow.” He took a tray from Hannah and proceeded into the café.
The group ate at one large round table in the middle of the café and away from the windows since it was cold against those large expanses of glass.
“So you’re still not telling the sex?” Hannah asked after the group had polished off their sandwiches. They were munching on chocolate chip cookies except for Rachel. She was still uncomfortable after her meal and declined dessert.
Rachel shook her head. “Nope, because we don’t know ourselves. But we do have names.”
“Marie if it’s a girl,” Brady said. “For the great aunt who raised me.”
“And Jacob if it’s a boy,” Rachel said, smiling.
“What about middle names?” asked Walker.
“We haven’t gotten that far,” Rachel admitted. “We figure we still have some more time to decide.”
Hannah’s phone rang in a distinctive tone, and she immediately picked up. “Having a great time here without you. If you’re almost off duty, why don’t you—” She stopped talking, her mouth became one thin line, and her brow furrowed. “I hear you, Kyle, but we don’t have any problems here. Power’s still on.” She assured her husband all was well and ended the call.
And as soon she did so, the visitor’s center was plunged into darkness.
29
The group emitted a joint cry of alarm, and Hannah relayed the bad news.
“That was Kyle. He says the ice storm is worse than they thought, and now a heavy wet snow is falling on top of it. Power’s going out all over the county. And we just got hit, of course.”
Goose pulled a small flashlight from a keychain. “We need to get people out of here,” he said and stood. “I’ll help you to your cars one at a time. Rachel and Brady, you’re first.”
Brady rose and then helped Rachel to a standing position.
“Oh—oh, my—” Rachel cried and gripped her husband’s arm as her legs almost gave out from under her. There was a soft yet distinct noise that sounded like something being spilled. “What the hell—my water just broke!”
“Sit her down!” Goose yelled at Brady and then directed Hannah to call Kyle.
Hannah did so with a trembling hand and asked for an ambulance to come to the distillery.
“Are you kidding?” Kyle said on speakerphone. “We’ve got one ambulance in the county, and it’s already on a serious-injury-accident run out to the south end of the county. Looks like a fatality—and who knows how long that will take with the roads as bad as they are? Keep Rachel there. Do not get out on the roads.”
Hannah put a hand on her forehead. “But she’s having the baby! NOW!”
“So let her have it!” Kyle yelled back. “We’ll get an ambulance there as soon as possible!” And he hung up.
Brady put his arm around his terrified wife. “Where—I mean—what do we do? We’d planned for a lot of things with this baby, but having it here in the dark sure as hell wasn’t one of them.”
As if on cue, Rachel let out a cry.
“Better start timing those,” Goose advised. “Hadn’t you noticed anything?”
“We thought it was false labor,” Brady said while Rachel grunted in pain.
Goose told everyone except Hannah to stay put. They went to the supply room near his office and returned within a few minutes with an assortment of flashlights and passed them out.
“We have to take Rachel somewhere else,” Goose said. “Somewhere warm with generator power.”
“You know the only place like that on the grounds is the distillery itself,” Hannah said. “You’re suggesting we take her there?”
“Yes,” Goose replied. “It’s warm. And if the generator goes out, it’ll still be warm because there’s mash cooking now, isn’t there?”
Walker confirmed two mash tubs were full and in the m
iddle of the fermentation process. “It should be steamy and warm right now and for several more hours. But if the generator behind the distillery goes down, it’s not like you can light a candle to give you any light.”
“Then we’ll have to hope the generator doesn’t give out and, if that happens, that the flashlights are good,” Goose said.
“Wait!” Brady yelled and stood. “You’re taking my wife over to the distillery to have this baby? Are you people nuts?”
“What other option do you have?” Hannah asked.
While this exchange was occurring, Harriet went to Rachel’s side and took her hand. “How are you?”
“How do you think? I’m having a baby!” Rachel screamed and squeezed Harriet’s hand until it hurt.
“We have to get her out of here—now,” Goose said to Brady. “Trust me.”
Brady caved and along with Goose tried to help Rachel to her feet. But Rachel couldn’t walk.
Goose ordered Hannah to take a flashlight and walk ahead of him as he readied himself to lift Rachel.
“Wait! Let me!” Brady cried. “This is my responsibility!”
“You want the responsibility if you drop her? You want to live with that?” Goose asked. “You’re in no shape to carry her, friend. Let me do this for you.”
After several long seconds of contemplation, Brady nodded, and Goose put a hand on his shoulder in understanding. Goose instructed Walker and CiCi to go ahead outside to check the short path from the visitors’ center to the distillery building and to brush away any snow or ice. “There’s a bag of salt and broom just inside the door,” he told them as they went off into the darkness on their errand.
Within a few minutes, Goose was slowly toting the moaning Rachel out of the building and into the dark cold of a wickedly frigid December night. The snow, now thick and wet on every surface, reflected what little light there was, making the journey not quite as treacherous as if they had traveled in complete darkness.
But the footing was slippery, and Goose chose instead to walk in the grass rather than on the stone path leading from one building to another. As he crept along with Rachel in his arms, the others formed a circle around the pair, there to try to break the fall should it occur.
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