I looked around the hearth at my own newfound family with affection. There certainly were worse places to be.
Liam had come to my side and put his nose on my knee, whining softly. I knew what that meant. I excused myself and took him outside. The air was crisp but fresh, and I walked to the edge of the stone terrace and looked down at the river flowing past on its endless journey to the sea. Lost in thought, I didn’t hear Grant until he was standing right next to me.
“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Not right away, but soon,” I conceded.
“Where to this time?”
“I took a monthlong assignment to Iceland. Less stressful than the usual gig, and it’ll give me a bit of time to think.” I turned to face Grant. “I have to figure out how this new life of mine works. It’s all still surreal to me. I still haven’t got my head around owning a distillery and a house and sheep, for God’s sake. Should I keep running all over the world on assignment, or is it enough to be a philanthropist and part-time farmer? Am I ready to step out of the whirlwind that is my life? And, well, so many other questions.” I didn’t want to admit that I needed to figure out where Grant fit into my life. Friend, business partner, lover? And it was too hard to think clearly when he was around.
“You’ve certainly made a place for yourself here. You have friends and the trust to oversee, and the Glen, of course.”
“The Glen is your territory, as it should be,” I added hastily, placing a hand on Grant’s arm. “And don’t get me wrong, I love it here, it’s just scary letting go of things that you’ve worked so hard to build. A career that has defined who I am for most of my adult life.”
Grant took my hand in his and turned to face me. “I get it. And it’s good to reflect on your options, but you can’t always know all the answers. Sometimes life’s a mystery. It unfolds in bits and pieces, and you have to find the answers as you go along. But you’re lucky. You can go on your adventures and think. Balfour will always be here for you when you return.”
He was right. But in my heart I knew it was a gamble. I looked deep into Grant’s eyes. “What about you?” I asked. “Will you still be here when I return?”
He smiled softly. “That is another of life’s mysteries.”
For my ever-supportive family. Rock on!
Acknowledgments
Show me the way
To the next whisky bar…
—Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill, “Alabama Song”
There is a profound harmony of spirit between rock and roll and whisky. The production of each is a mystical blending of art and alchemy that gives an exuberant pulse to the rhythm of life. They speak to the rebel in all of us and remind us of the primal delights of living life to its fullest.
For me, living life to the fullest is being able to write, and I offer my profound thanks to all who help to make my fantasy a daily reality. First and foremost, to my family, who surround me with their infinite love, support, and encouragement.
To Abby Saul with the Lark Group for being such a tireless advocate, not to mention an endlessly patient, talented, and gracious editor.
To Julia, Junessa, Madeleine, Erika, and all of the good folks at Alibi for the advertising, editing, and graphics support. The copy editors, cover artists, promotional staff, and all who helped launch Death Distilled have been wonderful.
And especially to my readers, who have shared their own whisky-tasting adventures with me. Please stay in touch via email ([email protected]). and on Twitter (@mulletmysteries).
Slàinte mhath!
BY MELINDA MULLET
Single Malt Murder
Death Distilled
PHOTO: MARION MEAKEM PHOTOGRAPHY
MELINDA MULLET was born in the United States to two British parents. After many years in the legal trenches she is happy to be known as a former lawyer, a travel junkie, and a lifelong advocate for children’s literacy causes both domestic and international. Melinda lives just outside of Washington, DC, with her whisky-collecting husband, two extraordinary young women she is proud to call her daughters, and an obedience school dropout named MacAllen.
melindamullet.com
Twitter: @mulletmysteries
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