Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  “Five bucks says he won’t,” Cara said.

  Hannah told the worker to bring the treats to them at the tree in the lobby and turned with Cara to leave.

  “I need better stakes. What if he eats it, you’ll call Drake and have yourselves a little Windmill date?” she asked as they left the café.

  “And just why are you so concerned about the state of my relationship with Mr. Mercer?”

  They reached the tree, and Hannah stood before it, looking as the workers cleared away the boxes in which the lights had been stored. Goose was nearby, opening a box of ornaments.

  “Because I hate to see people so sad when the solution for not being sad is so simple. So is it a bet?”

  “Very well.” There was little chance she’d lose the bet, considering Goose’s attitude about the treat.

  Goose called them over, and soon the trio was happily decorating the Old Garnet Christmas tree.

  It took a few minutes to get into the holiday mood. She’d just gotten through Halloween with Nate, and there was a pile of candy still at home. But having a little bit of fun at Old Garnet helping friends decorate the distillery tree wasn’t so onerous.

  She soon found herself having fun with the two Davenports, who were racing to see how many ornaments they could put on the tree in a minute.

  “Are you two really only cousins and not siblings?” Cara asked as she checked the timer on her phone and watched in amusement as Hannah and Goose, in a frenzy, put ornaments on the tree.

  “He’s the rambunctious brother I never had,” Hannah admitted as she put an ornament on the tree.

  “True enough,” said Goose. “Can’t see Bo going for this kind of silliness in a million years.”

  “Who says it’s silly?” protested Hannah, laughing.

  In his haste, Goose dropped several ornaments on the wooden floor of the visitors’ center, causing the small trinkets to roll away. Goose scurried after them as Hannah kept putting ornaments on the tree.

  When Cara expressed concern for the ornaments, Goose reassured her.

  “They’re just made from old bungs.” He brought all the ornaments back to the tree and hung them quickly.

  “I think I got you beat, cuz,” Hannah claimed as Cara called time.

  “I got twenty-two, I think. And you?”

  “Twenty-nine,” she said triumphantly.

  “Best two out of three?” Goose suggested.

  “I’d rather bask in victory. Besides, we need to take a break,” she said, casting her eyes beyond Cara.

  Cara turned to see the worker from the café approaching them with a cardboard tray filled with three paper cups. Hannah walked out to meet the worker. She took the tray back to tree, and Cara noted Goose’s intense scowl as Hannah set the tray on a nearby bench made of old barrel staves.

  Hannah plucked one of the paper cups from the tray, stuffed a plastic spoon into it, and held it out to her cousin.

  “Take it. You know you want it.”

  “I vowed not to eat one of those things until Mercer told me the recipe,” Goose grumbled.

  “Your loss,” Hannah said, handing a cup and spoon to Cara.

  “Don’t you need to eat one to figure out what’s in it?” Hannah asked.

  Frowning yet looking determined, Goose went to the bench and snatched the last cup.

  “Lost your bet,” Hannah said.

  “Seems so,” Cara agreed.

  He stood and ate while Cara and Hannah sat on the small bench. After a few bites, Cara was in a bittersweet heaven, enjoying the treat but recalling the first time she’d had one.

  “Damn,” Goose muttered. “What is that flavor? I cannot for the life of me figure it out, and it drives me crazy every time I—”

  “What did I hear you say?” Hannah teased, rising from the bench. “Just how many times have you snuck an Applejack Garnet, trying to guess the ingredients?”

  “More than I care to admit,” he grumbled. “I’ll never figure it out.”

  “Unless you ask Drake and he gives in,” Cara pointed out.

  Goose snorted. “Like he’d do that.”

  “Your chance to find out is upon you. Drake’s walking through the front doors,” Hannah said.

  Cara stood, her heart nearly stopping when she saw Drake entering the far hallway along the offices. He arrived with three others, all dressed for a day out on the creek.

  From across the lobby, their eyes locked. Cara could not turn away as Drake strode directly toward her after excusing himself from his group, which headed to the café.

  “Ask, Goose,” Hannah said. “I’d ask now, seeing as how he’s got a big goofy smile on his face.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here today?” demanded Cara.

  “Because I knew you wouldn’t show if you did. And he didn’t know either,” Hannah said. “He’s here on the last Water of Life tour of the season. Too bad the weather was ugly for it.”

  Goose held out his hand to Drake, who accepted it, but kept looking at Cara.

  “I give up,” Goose said. “I’m done trying to figure out how to make an Applejack Garnet. Will you please tell me?”

  “I never have told him, per your instructions,” Hannah said. “So if you want to divulge your secrets, that’s completely up to you.”

  Drake smiled at Cara, then turned to Goose.

  “Drop of orange extract. Not much.”

  Goose blinked and slowly broke into a smile.

  “Thanks!” he said, then started walking away.

  “Where are you going?” Hannah asked.

  “Home, of course. Going to try to make one!”

  After Goose departed, Drake fixed his eyes again on Cara.

  “Good to see you.”

  “And you too,” she said.

  She exhaled, surprised she had been holding her breath, her heart thundering in her chest at the sight of the man she loved and from whom she had been too long parted. He was wet and messy but looked better than the Applejack Garnet had tasted.

  Memories of their last night together invaded her mind. Suddenly she felt his hands on her, his mouth on hers, and the exquisite feeling of connectedness and fullness as they had made love that last time.

  “Would you like to help us decorate the tree?” Hannah asked.

  “Sure,” Drake said.

  Hannah plucked an ornament from the box and gave it to Drake.

  “Good. Get started. You two can catch up while you help us decorate. If you can get some more of those ornaments on the tree,” she said, pointing to an open crate, “you can pick something off the tree for yourselves later. A little thank-you from Old Garnet for helping us get ready for the holidays.”

  Hannah bustled away to the bathroom, leaving Cara and Drake standing and staring at each other.

  “I think I’ll owe her a thank-you instead,” Drake said. “What brings you here today?”

  “She invited me out to lunch. A total setup, obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  His stare was searing, and Cara felt butterflies, almost like they were on a first date with the promise of wonderful, sensual discoveries still ahead.

  “I miss you,” she finally said in a soft voice.

  “I love you.”

  “And I love you,” she whispered.

  She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes, and almost expected Drake to pull her into an embrace and kiss her—and she wouldn’t be able to resist if he did so.

  “We’d better get to work, or Madam Davenport will be displeased,” she heard him say.

  They proceeded to hang several of the wooden bung ornaments, each of them stamped with the Old Garnet logo and sporting a deep red grosgrain ribbon as a loop or hanger. Between them, they placed at least a dozen on the tree, along with small mini bar-sized bottles of Old Garnet filled with glitter and water instead of bourbon.

  Delving deeper into the crates, Cara discovered the traditional spherical ornaments, all of them round plastic balls in the
rich bluish-red color so associated with Old Garnet. Drake opened another crate and pulled out long snakes of paper chains made of connected strips of Old Garnet labels, and strung them on the tree with Cara’s help.

  Hannah had been gone for a good fifteen minutes before she returned.

  “Sorry to leave you two for so long,” she said, prompting Cara and Drake to exchange an amused and disbelieving look. “But I had a little brainstorm and went to the gift shop to snag these two items for you.” She handed each of them a small Christmas tree-shaped ornament with their names on them. “Wrote your names on there with a paint pen myself. On the reverse is a little bit about the history of the Christmas tree. Thought you might like these more than just any old thing off the tree.”

  Cara turned the object over and read a short paragraph about the origins of the Christmas tree and its meaning.

  The Christmas tree traditionally symbolizes new life and new beginnings as the old year passes away and a new one begins.

  As they continued to decorate, Hannah nattered on about the holidays and events at the distillery in the upcoming weeks. Cara learned that there were to be some special holiday dinners and tastings in the tasting room and sensed the open invitation to them both to sign up for such an event. In other words, a perfect opportunity for a holiday date in an enchanting Kentucky Bourbonland setting.

  The thought made Cara’s stomach clench.

  When was this going to end?

  If she didn’t get the appointment, she’d still vowed to run for the seat and that meant—what? More long days and nights without Drake Mercer in her life as long as the stupid judicial complaint hung over her head?

  And what if the complaint actually had legs?

  What if the Judicial Conduct Commission proceeded with the case and went to a full-blown hearing in which she’d have to defend herself with Elizabeth Minton by her side? That would be a public proceeding and her life an open book. The press would be there and report on the case, and she’d once more have to see her name in print alongside Drake’s, along with allegations of wrongdoing.

  And the only thing she’d done had been the right thing—to recuse from Drake’s case when she realized she wanted to date him. The man she now loved. The man not more than a few feet away from her and wanted to feel in her arms that very second.

  Her phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts, but she was not quick enough to answer. She recognized the number: the reporter from the Courier-Journal had just called her again.

  Why the hell was the reporter calling her? Did they have some kind of stupid sixth sense that she was in Drake’s presence and—horrors!—almost enjoying herself?

  She ignored it and slipped it into her pocket. Yet in the next instant, she felt the device vibrating against her hip; she’d forgotten to completely turn the thing off.

  Now angry at whomever had the temerity to call her again in such a short span, Cara glanced at the screen, expecting to see the reporter’s number.

  But CiCi was the caller.

  “Oh, good,” CiCi sighed when Cara answered.

  Cara immediately sensed something was very wrong. “What’s the matter?”

  “Do you know?”

  “Know what?”

  CiCi took a long, raspy breath. “Sorry to be the one to tell you this but better from a friend than someone else. I just got a call from my sister-in-law. Nina said that Garner Robson’s wife was killed last night in a wreck.”

  “Oh God,” Cara said, teetering on her feet. She stumbled to the nearby bench and fell onto it. “But Garner—the baby—are they safe?”

  Hannah and Drake immediately ceased their decorating efforts and stood before Cara at the bench.

  “Yes,” CiCi said. “Apparently the wife had simply gone out for groceries. Dump truck ran a red light. Garner was at home with the little one.”

  Cara held the phone to her head with one hand while shielding her eyes with the other. This tragedy was why the press had been trying to reach her. In its sick need to generate news from the grief of others, the media wanted a comment from her or to surprise her with this unhappy bulletin.

  “Thanks for telling me this. How’s Nina?”

  “Not good. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. I told her to get out of town and come down to Bourbon Springs to see us.”

  After a few more words of thanks mingled with shock, Cara ended the call and told Hannah and Drake what had happened.

  “This isn’t something I would wish on my worst enemy,” Cara whispered as Hannah and Drake took seats flanking her.

  “Like you have enemies,” Hannah said.

  Drake offered Cara his hand, and she took it. It was the first time they’d touched in weeks.

  She shuddered as the images assaulted her. Cara began to relive that icy night when Kyle Sammons appeared at her door with terrible news and a birthday present meant for another…

  Yet instead of melting into a puddle of despondency, Cara felt a new resolve. There was a man out there who needed her presence and kindness even though he might reject it.

  And it wasn’t the man sitting next to her gently stroking the top of her hand with his thumb.

  18

  It was a week before Thanksgiving, ten days after Garner Robson had entered that sad status of a widower with a baby.

  Cara hadn’t expected a return call after leaving him a voice mail with her condolences and a request to see him. Yet he had responded and invited her to his home on what was appropriately a rainy, dreary day.

  Her personal dislike had been washed away by all-too-familiar tragedy. She knew that there were very few people in his situation—if there were any—a new judge with a baby, left spouseless and shocked, lonely and angry in a completely new world.

  A world Cara understood all too well.

  He’d given her his address, and she’d used her phone to map the route to his home. Cara could tell from checking the neighborhood on the Internet that he lived in a fairly swanky spot, with views overlooking the entire downtown Frankfort area. She thought she knew which house was his. From her few forays into Kentucky’s capital, she had spotted it on a prominent bluff, high above the gray palisades towering over the Kentucky River.

  With little traffic that midweek morning, Cara arrived at Garner’s abode within an hour after leaving Bourbon Springs. It was the house she had suspected, a two-story structure of relatively recent construction and not quite large enough to be classified as a McMansion, the derogatory term she often associated with Hannah Davenport’s large home north of Bourbon Springs.

  Garner met Cara at the door with his daughter in his arms. Little Ruby Robson was nearly asleep and looked perfectly angelic. Her wispy hair was almost white, and her plump cheeks were of cherubic proportions.

  “How old is she now?” Cara asked. “Nearly six months, right?”

  She looked up at Garner, the picture of shocked grief. A fallen, grayish face, dead eyes. But when she asked about his daughter, the young judge’s face brightened ever so slightly, like a sunbeam piercing an otherwise solid embankment of black clouds.

  “Wow, you remember her name and how old she is?”

  “When you become a parent, the details of the lives other peoples’ children acquire a special fascination. Like joining a club.”

  Garner smiled weakly, then looked down at Ruby, who had completely succumbed to slumber.

  He indicated she should follow him, and they left the spacious, two-story foyer and went into a large great room at the back of the house, also soaring two stories above them into a cathedral ceiling.

  Garner’s home had a commanding view of the entire center of Frankfort. To the far left was a bluff with a civil war fort. Below them was the center of the city, nestled in an ancient gorge carved over millennia by the Kentucky River. Across the valley was the Frankfort Cemetery, final resting place of Daniel Boone, and the capitol building itself sat on a prominence to the far right.

  It was as though the entire center
of state government was quite literally at Garner’s feet.

  But his full attention was devoted to his daughter.

  With a kiss to her forehead, he placed her carefully in a playpen between the kitchen and the great room. After covering her with a pink blanket, he stood and stared sadly at his little girl.

  In Garner’s moment of wonder mixed with sad reflection, Cara considered him. He looked tired, his exhaustion the product of grief.

  For her, the only thing that had cast away that shell of hopelessness had been Drake. And since they had been estranged, Cara had felt the return of that same low-grade lethargy, like an unwelcome guest she could not evict from her home.

  Looking at Garner, she wondered when, if ever, he would once more dwell in the land of the living.

  “Thanks for seeing me today,” she said.

  Garner sighed and invited Cara to take a seat on the couch while he migrated to a large leather chair, its back to the window.

  “I’m glad you contacted me. There’re a few things I wanted to say to you. And I’m sure there’s more than a few things you’d like to say to me,” he said in a wry tone.

  “Please, let me go first. I hope you don’t find this too condescending, but I do have an inkling of what you’re going through. I won’t insult you and say I understand it exactly because I can’t. But trust me when I say that I do understand. And I’d be glad to answer any questions you have or help you in any way.”

  Garner swallowed and looked even paler than he had when he had greeted her at the door. “You came all this way just to offer me a little comfort?”

  “Well… yes,” she said.

  Leaning over and dropping his head, he placed his forearms on top of his legs and began to cry.

  Cara was mortified but not surprised by Garner’s quick slide into despondency. She rose at once from the couch and went to him, taking a seat in front of him on a leather ottoman. Tentatively placing a hand on his knee, she hoped to pull him from the depths, but her small gesture produced another heaving sob.

  Garner sat up a little, and Cara reacted instinctively.