Highland Dew

by Barrett Magill

  “Hi, Mom. I’m just checking in.” Bryce clutched the cell phone tight to her head to hear through the background noise of the busy terminal.

  “Ellen, is that you? I can hardly hear you.”

  “Yes, it’s me, and I don’t go by El… never mind. Sorry for the noise. I’m at the airport.”

  “Honey, we haven’t heard anything from you for six months. Why are you calling from the airport?” Her mother’s voice sounded tense, as usual.

  “I know. It’s been a long time, but things have just been crazy at work.” Bryce pinched the bridge of her nose and took a breath. “I wasn’t sure when I would get the chance to call again.”

  Overhead speakers blared with competing announcements, and she saw Reggie walking toward her with two water bottles. “Oh, Mom, they just called my flight.” She felt mildly guilty for lying, but she didn’t want to get into it with her mother in front of her coworker.

  “Your flight? Where are you going?”

  “To Scotland.” Now Bryce regretted making the phone call. “It’s only for a few weeks. We need to do some research on small whisky distilleries. Leo got a great idea after a conference to find some new products.”

  Her mother’s silence was the worst. “What conference? Where? Sometimes I just don’t understand. You have a family that loves you, and you just keep getting farther and farther away.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Maybe when I get back, I can take some vacation time. Please don’t worry. I’m really okay.” Her throat burned with sadness. “I love you, Mom. Got to go.” She ended the call and slid the phone in her pocket.

  “Your mom upset?” Reggie handed her a cold bottle. “When was the last time you talked to her?”

  Bryce took a drink and tried to remember if she had told her mother about her last promotion. “I’m not sure. Let’s change the subject, okay? Do you have any ideas about how to get small distillers to sign with a global distributor?”

  Reggie shrugged. “Not offhand, but I remember some of the whiskies we tasted at the conference were outstanding. I’m looking forward to something new and different.” Reggie recapped her bottle and stretched. Her perfect figure always looked relaxed. “Did you look at any maps? I haven’t been to Scotland in so long, I don’t remember where anything is.”

  Bryce smiled. “The only thing I remember is that the roads are about ten feet wide, there’s barely room for one car let alone two, and everybody drives on the wrong side.”

  Reggie coughed and wiped her chin with a napkin. “You had to remind me of that!”

  “Well, it was my fondness for curbs that wreaked havoc on the tires. Expensive lesson.”

  Bryce remembered their first business trip to learn the whisky business from the ground up. It made her smile—such a good time. “But the trip was a great experience. Do you remember that first distillery when we saw those big, round copper stills up close?”

  Reggie laughed. “I couldn’t believe they actually got fabulous whisky that way. I learned so much on that trip, and now, every time I talk to a client, I remember how the malting rooms smelled and how good that first sip of whisky was.”

  “I can’t believe that was six years ago.” Bryce took a swallow of water.

  Overhead, another announcement blared through the speakers. “Flight 2103 to Glasgow will begin boarding in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter Two

  Thunk!

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be making our final descent in a few minutes…”

  Bryce blinked open her eyes and squinted out the partially open window next to her. Must’ve been the landing gear.

  Flying business class had helped override the sensation of being fresh-packed tuna, but only slightly. Bryce initially enjoyed the travel, but the joy of it began to fade after a few years. She shifted her pillow and tried deep breathing to improve her circulation. Out the window, the sky ahead of them was orange and purple, but off to the west a crescent moon hovered over the horizon. Beautiful. A sleepy smile creased the corners of her mouth.

  The first couple of hours had been good for reading reports, eating the chicken scaloppini, and talking with Reggie. They had met after Bryce transferred to San Francisco years ago. Reggie looked like a taller, short-haired version of Kristin Chenoweth. Perky, fun, and driven. Together they’d put together a stellar team for the west coast office of Global Distillers and Distribution.

  Their CEO, Leo, seldom worried, but lately his tanned face had begun to show a more furrowed brow and some dark circles under his eyes. Leo would never discuss company problems, but the corporate counsel confided their concern to her about some hungry new start-ups. This new venture could be critical in bringing up their numbers. Bryce had an important task.

  About halfway through the flight, she’d wrestled her team of fretting demons into submission for a few hours while the drone of the large turbine engines lulled her to sleep.

  Now, window shades peeped open around her and Bryce slid her shade all the way up. The first glint of sunrise cracked the horizon with a neon nectarine glow in the purple-black sky. The plane banked right and began to descend. It wasn’t long before she caught the first hint of green, likely the north of Ireland. It really was emerald green through the gossamer wisps of cloud. Beyond lay Scotland. Flying into Europe often awakened old history studies and maps from her memory. Newgrange, King Arthur, royal houses, and clans.

  Bryce pulled a towelette packet from her messenger bag and wiped her face and hands. The lemon scent convinced her she was fresher, even if she didn’t feel so.

  The plane touched down with a jolt, and braked hard enough to steer. Bryce was grateful for the few hours sleep. The local time in Glasgow was nine twenty-five. Sun now streamed through the window. She rolled her shoulders and flexed her stiff ankles.

  Reggie squinted open one eye. “Are we there?”

  “Yup. Right on time. I’m guessing you slept?” Bryce turned on her cell phone.

  “Like a baby. You know, I think brandy helps. And wine.” She sat up. “Do you have any water left?”

  Bryce raised one eyebrow and laughed. “Hmmm.” She handed over a half full bottle. How she managed to sleep that long and not have one hair out of place was infuriating. Her short, blond hair looked sculpted. Bryce ran her fingers through her own hair several times, imagining it just might look combed.

  Once they’d cleared customs, they found a young man with an iPad that read Global Distribution.

  “I think that might be our Man Friday.” Reggie nodded at the red-haired lad.

  “Welcome to Glasgow,” he said with a charming guttural brogue. “This way, if you please. We’ve a special waiting area for international visitors in the car park.” He took charge of the luggage carrier and led them to the waiting car.

  “Thank you, Leo,” Reggie said. “I love being met.”

  “Your reservations are confirmed at the Hilton Strathclyde, just up the road a bit.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Bryce said. “How’s the weather been?”

  He glanced in his mirror. “It’s been warming up nice. Had a ton of rain two weeks ago. Where are you coming from?”

  “California through Chicago, and across the pond.”

  “Sounds like a verra long way.”

  Reggie laughed. “Oh, believe me, it is.”

  The driver expertly navigated the arrival traffic out of the airport and around downtown Glasgow. Their office in Airdrie was a few miles east of downtown. “The regional manager will give you more information when he meets with you a bit later.”

  A short time later he pulled under a portico and hopped out. He set the bags on the brass carrier when a bellman wheeled it in to the lobby. The large sign read “Doubletree by Hilton.”

  “That was quick. I forget how close everything is over here,” Reggie said. “Oh look, is it the same as the stateside Doubletrees? I could use a fresh, hot cookie.”

  Registration was quick, and the bags were efficiently taken to their double ro
om. “I want to eat something before I go up, how about you?” Bryce said.

  “Come to think about it, yes. Airline food didn’t cut it, and without the cookie…” Reggie hooked her bag over her shoulder and pointed to the dining room. “I can taste that Scottish breakfast already.”

  Like the lobby, everything in the dining room was ultra-modern: furniture and décor in black and white with bright accents of lime green and eggplant. Stark, but attractive.

  Within ten minutes, two plates loaded with the traditional items appeared. Eggs, sausage links, bacon, baked beans, tattie scones, black pudding, and cooked tomatoes. It smelled wonderful. Along with some good Scottish tea, it was the perfect welcome.

  “I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Reggie purred. “This tastes so good. I’d forgotten. Now if they’d add some grits…”

  They both laughed.

  “I know. I can’t even remember our last real meal. I’ll sleep for sure now.” Bryce pushed back her chair and set her napkin by the empty plate.

  The waitress brought another pot of tea and Reggie poured. “Have you thought of any way to locate and track down small distillers?”

  “I think we should wait to see what Ian Smith has laid out. He’s pretty detail oriented. Plus, it might be a handful and it might be dozens. It will also make a difference where they are.”

  “Hey.” Reggie leaned forward and whispered, “Listen, we’re in Scotland now. I’m guessing there might still be some of that clan rivalry up in them bens and lochs. We’ll have to do some hunting.”

  Bryce laughed at the reference, but thought there might be some truth in it. Scots were a proud people and had strong family ties, not unlike the small stills that bloomed in the Appalachians. “You may be right. Maybe we could contact Robert the Bruce?” She finished her tea. “If you’ve had your fill of bangers, I’d like to catch a nap before we meet Ian.”

  “You go ahead. I think I’ll take a walk to settle my stomach.” She grinned. “I’ll be quiet when I come up.”

  “Please.” Bryce shook her head and walked to the elevator. She smiled as she remembered why they usually had separate rooms on long trips. It had something to do with plastic bags. They shared a room at the Broadford on Skye several years ago. The first morning Reggie got up early and snuck around trying to get dressed quietly…until she started rummaging through a plastic bag or twelve. The rustling went on for hours and sounded like she had fallen into a bag of bubble wrap. Dear God, please don’t let that happen again.

  Sleep held a lofty position in Bryce’s hierarchy of needs, and once she’d changed and crawled into bed, sleep stole her away.

  ****

  Dressed impeccably, Ian Smith sat posture-perfect at a corner table in the bar. Bryce could see why Leo had lured Ian from a large distiller in Edinburgh. He looked like he’d stepped out of a Marks & Spencer catalog. He stood when they approached from the entrance.

  “Welcome back to Glasgow.”

  “Thank you. It’s good to see you again. How’ve you been?” Bryce shook his hand and sat across from him. “Do you remember Reggie Ballard?”

  “Of course. Ms. Ballard, a pleasure.” He shook Reggie’s hand. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering some snacks or appetizers. In my experience, overseas flights are often disruptive to meal schedules.”

  They both nodded.

  “You’re right. We both had a good meal a few hours ago, and I’m still not sure what schedule I’m on,” Bryce said.

  He handed each a folder with maps, lists, and typed notes. “Well let me give you some information and you can continue to reset. I’m afraid this is as much as I could come up with on short notice. The Scottish Craft Distillers Association has recently got started. Their list is woefully small.”

  A waiter appeared with a tray of mixed appetizers including stuffed mushrooms, oatcakes, different cheeses, potato wafers, and smoked salmon.

  “Will there be anything else?”

  “Not at the moment. Thank you. Ladies, please help yourselves.”

  Bryce could feel her stomach growl with the delicious smells coming from the beautiful, dainty servings.

  When they each had filled a plate, Ian continued with his briefing. “It appears that Mr. Edelman has set you a fair task to accomplish. I’m certain there are hidden gems out there, especially in the Highlands, however, getting those Highlanders to reveal their secrets may require some skill.” He opened his folder and showed them his lists. “Aside from a few experimenters, all distilling enterprises must be registered. I’ve tried to break it down in areas—Highland and Speyside then the Lowland and Islands. The distance between stops, and the number of sites, are approximately the same.”

  “Wow. This is impressive.” Reggie shook her head. “There are more than I thought.”

  “These are registered as of the end of the year. Many of these may no longer be open. I’d advise you check with locals first to get an idea of whether to bother.” He pulled out a map. “There are two routes. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty to create separate tasks to save time. You may choose whichever you prefer. The first is the Lowland and Island distillers—marked on this map in red. The other is the Highland and Speyside distillers—in blue. The small boutique distillers will likely be in the same areas and known by the locals. I highlighted the ones that are part of the GDD group. Oh, and I took the liberty of leasing two cars, which can be picked up nearby.”

  Bryce and Reggie thumbed through the assembled information.

  “You have done an amazing job, Ian. We had no idea how to begin. This is such a great help, I think we should celebrate with a wee dram—your choice, Ian.”

  He closed his folder and smiled with a look of great relief. “Wonderful. I’m so glad. I did notice an eighteen-year-old Dalwhinnie at the bar, would that do?”

  “Perfect.”

  The next hour flew by as they sipped whisky and told stories of other travels. Bryce felt her eyelids drooping when Ian finally stood.

  “I will take my leave now. I hope your journeys are successful, and please remember, I am only a phone call away.”

  “Thank you for everything. I’m sure it all will go smoothly from here on out.” Bryce waved as Ian tipped his head and walked out through the lobby.

  They headed toward the elevator.

  “We might get this job done in a couple of weeks,” Reggie said.

  Might was the operative word. Bryce wasn’t quite that optimistic. Scottish locals had their own time and didn’t have the urgency Americans were used to. Patience.

  ****

  Bright and early they were up, bathed, and fed. Bryce felt energized and eager to start this challenge. The hotel shuttle drove them to the car rental office close to the main motorway. Morning sunlight helped warm the air, and Bryce zipped her fleece to conserve heat anyway.

  “I just remembered all the damn roundabouts. Did Ian say anything about providing bail?” Reggie whispered.

  “I know. Just remember, we don’t need to rush. Relax and take your time. At least, you’ll avoid the Glasgow traffic since you’re going directly south.”

  The driver pulled up to the front of the office. They each climbed out of the van while he placed their bags on the curb. Bryce tipped him. “Thank you.”

  “We have two reservations, one for Ballard and one for Andrews,” Reggie told the rental desk clerk. “So far so good. And we’ll check in every evening?”

  It took only minutes, since they’d confirmed the reservation and Ian had guaranteed it.

  “Right. Of course, call if there are any problems.” Bryce put her license and credit card back in her travel wallet. She glanced at the typed itinerary from Ian. “Looks like my first stop is Stirling. What’s yours?”

  “Looks like Kilmarnock. Huh, have you ever driven a Vauxhall Insignia?”

  “No. I guess this will be another first.” Bryce gave Reggie a quick hug. “Let’s find some treasure.”

  “Stay safe, and happy hunting.” Reggi
e turned toward the dark red car.

  It took Bryce several minutes to reorient herself to having the controls opposite, but the decal on the dash “Stay Left” with a big red arrow helped. On her last visit to Scotland, she discovered slow speed seemed the safest as she navigated multiple roundabouts. She’d cleverly entered information on her cell phone and the directions were helpful as she merged onto Highway A725 north.

  Bryce set the cruise control and began to enjoy the beautiful May morning as the highway rolled through neat little suburbs. Scotland had a wonderful sense of tradition and function. While it grew with technology, it maintained a strong link to its important history. She unzipped the fleece and began to relax. Spring in the Highlands would be lovely.

  Chapter Three

  “Ms. Fiona, it’s Murray. Sorry to bother you on Sunday, but I thought you’d need to know your da’ is gettin’ to be quite ornery. I’m forever hiding keys to keep him from running off.”

  Fiona MacDougall gripped the phone and clenched her jaw. It just kept getting worse. Ever since her mum died a few years ago, things had spiraled out of control. Damn. She pulled her sweater closer. “I understand, but what about Robert or Sam, can’t they help?”

  “No ma’am, there’s no’ enough to cover bills so they’ve gone.”

  Her dream job teaching in Edinburgh, a flat of her own, and some money in the bank. Why couldn’t it be her time? A small headache crept into her temples.

  “All right. I’ll close up here and make some calls. I should be back in Cardow tonight.”

  “I’ll mind him and do the best I can.”

  “Thank you, Murray.”

  Fiona hung up. She pressed her knuckles against her head. After a few minutes, she started a list: pack for a week, call Shirley to substitute teach this week, hold mail, leave a key with Jen and Mary.