“Congratulations,” Walker called to Rachel from where he stood, and she thanked him.
“So,” Hannah said, rubbing her hands together, “we can shop for baby today!”
“Oh, no,” objected Rachel. “Not ready for that. Besides, you told me you wanted to go to Booty-T—I mean shop for a birthday present for Kyle, right?”
“Well, we can shop for more than one thing, can’t we?” asked Hannah.
“You two make sure to sign me up for the next shopping trip,” CiCi told Hannah and Rachel as they were about to leave the room. “I don’t want to miss out on the fun!”
“We’ve got months to shop before the baby arrives,” Rachel said, “and you’ll definitely be invited to come along. You too, Lila.”
“That baby will be here before you know it,” CiCi said. “Better get ready as soon as you can.”
“That’s Brady’s philosophy,” said Rachel. “The man’s at home today painting the spare room to use as the nursery. He’s already in nesting mode, and it’s exhausting me just to watch him. That’s one reason I wanted to get out of the house. He’s driving me nuts.”
Hannah and Rachel said their good-byes as a few students began to arrive.
Lila and Bo gave each other a hug, and Bo whispered something to his fiancée which made her giggle and look down at her diamond-and-garnet engagement ring. No doubt they were thinking about being in the same situation as Rachel and Brady someday, CiCi thought to herself. Smiling, she looked around to see Walker looking at Bo and Lila with the same sad glance he’d given Rachel. CiCi caught his eye, and he turned away to the bar sink and started rinsing the dirty glasses.
She was about to go over to Walker and check on him, but more and more kids started arriving after Hannah and Rachel’s departure. Within the next ten minutes, the noise level in the relatively small room exploded as about thirty of Lila’s students flowed into the room and found seats around the U-shaped table. There was barely enough seating for all of them, and the room became crowded, close, and stuffy.
In the wake of the atmospheric changes, CiCi migrated toward the bank of glass windows along the back of the tasting room which overlooked Old Crow Creek and the valley beyond. Even though she was still indoors, being by the windows gave her the sense of openness and escape she sometimes craved in cramped quarters. She was enjoying the view—perfect fluffy white clouds and abundant sunshine—when Walker appeared at her side.
“Sometimes I can forget how pretty it is around here,” she said as he drew nearer.
“Yeah,” said Walker. “I have to take the time to remind myself that I do work in a beautiful and unique place. Occasionally I go around to the back of the old distillery building and sit out there on nice days just to look at the creek and listen to the birds. Once in a while, I’ll even take a lunch with me.”
“So do a lot of the folks who work here eat out there with you? Sounds like a little patio café.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Simply an old barrel cut in half to sit on. Not exactly a space built for a crowd. In fact, no one has ever joined me out there. And I like that. Got my own little spot.”
“Your happy place?” she teased.
He chuckled, and she was happy to have pulled him from the sadness she’d seen him earlier exhibit. “I guess so,” he said, smiling.
CiCi’s attention was drawn to the front of the room, where Lila stood with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for the students to stop talking and pay attention to her. Although diminutive in size, Lila McNee was a commanding presence, and within seconds the students stopped chattering and waited for their teacher to speak.
Lila addressed her class and outlined the purpose of the outing to the distillery. For several, it was a return visit; many of these same kids had been to Old Garnet back in December for a field trip. CiCi had been a chaperone on that excursion and had enjoyed it so much that she continued to volunteer with Lila’s classes. She watched as Lila lectured her students and felt some pangs of jealousy.
CiCi had been a history minor at the University of Kentucky and had seriously considered going into teaching but had opted to get her MBA instead at the urging of her then hubby. She’d gotten the MBA but eventually dumped the spouse after he’d cheated on her with an old girlfriend. Although she’d had some job offers in Lexington after getting her degree, her mother fell ill and she’d had to return to Bourbon Springs to deal with her illness and death.
Then she was suddenly appointed to her mother’s position—Craig Circuit Court Clerk—and had been in the job ever since, for the past eight years. The job could be a bit boring at times, but the money was good for a small town, and she did enjoy interacting with her staff, judges, and attorneys.
But watching Lila that day made CiCi go through a whole round of what-could-have-beens if she’d only chosen a different career path. It was a game of regret she routinely found herself playing.
Lila instructed the kids that they would soon be walking over to the small two-story building which housed the distillery museum.
“Almost all of you have been here before, so I expect you know where you’re going and how to behave. If you need help, ask me, Ms. Summers, or Mr. Cain.” Lila pointed to CiCi and Walker in the back of the room. “We all know a lot about Old Garnet history, and Mr. Cain certainly knows plenty about the bourbon-making process. He’s the guy to ask about the science behind the craft, and he’s no slouch in the history department, either. Now let’s get going and stay together.”
Lila called CiCi and Walker to the front of the room before the kids started to depart.
“Isn’t Bo coming along?” CiCi asked.
“No, he’s got to lead some tours. Taking over Hannah’s tours so she can get a little break today,” Lila said, picking up her purse and a backpack from near the door. “Since Emma’s death, we’ve had a devil of a time getting enough tour guides. Hannah’s convinced we’re going to have to create a new position just to deal with all the tourist stuff, the gift shop—all those things that Emma handled.”
“Listen to you,” CiCi said. “You keep saying we.”
“Well, I’d better get used to it, don’t you think? I own a bit of this place, and I’m marrying a Davenport.”
“And when will that be?” CiCi asked as they started to follow the kids out of the room with Walker behind them.
“The Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend, but we’re keeping it small and simple since so much is going on right now,” Lila said, shaking her head. “Bo and Hannah are still dealing with their mom’s estate and the fallout from the rickhouse fire a few months back. We’re launching Garnet Center Cut as a brand this fall, and gearing up to start distilling the new bourbon, Garnet Reserve, by the end of this calendar year since the new rickhouses should be completed in the late summer,” Lila added, nodding to Walker. “There have been so many changes around here. I don’t want to lump a big, crazy wedding into all that. We don’t need the stress. So when Bo and I do tie the knot, we’re keeping it an intimate thing for family and close friends.” Lila turned and addressed Walker. “I haven’t said much to you today, Walker,” she said with apology in her voice. “How are you?”
“I’m perfectly happy to be with you two lovely ladies today,” he said. “And it seems I’ve heard the latest hot news in Craig County. I’ve learned the local judges are set to be parents around the end of the year and that two of my bosses will be married by the same time.”
“I’m not your boss, Walker,” Lila said. They crossed into the lobby, headed to the left, and went down the hallway and out a side door toward the distillery museum in the Old House.
“Like I’ll ever believe that,” he said, making Lila and CiCi laugh.
CiCi nodded to Walker as Lila walked ahead of them. “Good answer.”
He winked at her. “I like my job and want to keep it.”
Walker’s flirty little signal produced butterflies in CiCi’s stomach, and her pace slowed slightly as she realized sh
e hadn’t felt such a sensation in years. When Walker turned and gave her a curious look, CiCi felt warm, and her reaction had nothing to do with the fact they had reached the door and the sun was hitting her face as she exited the building.
“There’s something really interesting you need to see,” Lila said excitedly to CiCi as they walked into the Old House, a small red wooden building along Old Crow Creek and next to the distillery. “Walker made quite the discovery.”
He shrugged but smiled, and CiCi could tell he was happy to be praised.
“What did you uncover?” CiCi asked.
Lila grinned. “Quite the little treasure.”
“Don’t build it up to be something it isn’t,” Walker said, opening the door to the building and allowing Lila and then CiCi to pass through, followed by a steady stream of students.
“But it is a treasure,” Lila insisted. She led CiCi to a locked display cabinet next to the fireplace while the kids spread out amongst the various exhibits.
Inside a simple glass case was a nearly empty bottle of Old Garnet; a thin line of dark brown liquid, no more than half an inch, rested in bottom. The thing was dusty, like it had been left somewhere for a long time and forgotten, and sported a white label instead of the typical parchment-colored one.
“What is that?” CiCi asked, immediately knowing Lila had been right. This was something different.
Lila nodded toward the case, smiling proudly as if showing off her own newborn child. “That is one of Booker’s Babies. The only one known to be in existence.”
CiCi knew what that meant. She was indeed looking at a treasure steeped in Old Garnet lore.
When Cass and Emma Davenport had married over forty years earlier, Booker, Cass’s father and sole owner of Old Garnet at that time, had honored the occasion by producing a special wedding edition of Old Garnet denoted by white labels. The story went that Booker had personally selected his favorite barrels from the old rickhouse, and a very small number of white label had been bottled. Booker and the newlyweds gave bottles out as guest gifts at the wedding, and several bottles of white label were also opened at the reception.
Word spread rapidly about the superb quality of the bourbon, with white label or “wedding” bottles fetching high prices. But then the wedding bourbon was consumed, leaving nothing but legend and the occasional fakery. It had been years since a white label bottle with any bourbon in it had been discovered and verified as Old Garnet.
The white label’s extinction was not easily suffered by bourbon aficionados; some insisted that Booker had squirreled away some quantity of bottles for family but had fallen ill and died before revealing the location of the gems or that someone had stolen the bottles from the distillery grounds and taken them to parts unknown.
CiCi turned to Walker. “Where did you find it? Were there more?”
“Found it in an old wall in my office,” Walker said. “But sadly, that was the only one there.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, looking from Walker to Lila hopefully.
“Yes, we’re sure,” Lila said. “The hidey-hole in which this bottle was found was too small for anything else.”
“Although I think Hannah is all for tearing down the walls in my office to see if there are any others,” Walker said, cringing a little.
“But Bo is against it,” Lila added, “and I agree with him. He said the bottle probably belonged to a former master distiller who worked here years ago and suddenly died on the job. He took his secret to the grave.”
“And apparently didn’t take his bourbon home to share with anyone,” CiCi said, looking at the bottle then Lila. “So are you and Bo going to do something similar to honor your wedding? Are we going to see another wedding bourbon?”
“I suggested that,” said Walker, “but my bosses didn’t like the idea.”
“We’re afraid that people would sell them rather than enjoy the bourbon,” explained Lila. “We don’t like the idea of the bottles simply becoming collectors’ pieces, something to be put in a cabinet or on a shelf and not savored. Besides, Garnet Center Cut should be out by the end of the year if folks really want something special.”
After some speculation about the existence of other Booker’s Babies, the trio broke up to spread out among the students to check on their work and to see if they required any assistance.
After only a half an hour, CiCi was tired and glad the outing was coming to an end. She liked the kids, but being around them even for a short period of time had proven exhausting.
“How do you do it?” CiCi asked Lila as she joined her near the door. “Being with these kids—and they’re good kids—is draining.”
Lila shrugged. “Guess I find it energizing. Say, did you get anything to eat before you came here today? If not, I can treat you over at the café after we’re done.”
CiCi thanked her and shook her head. “No, I’m good. Walker and I ate lunch at The Windmill.”
“Again?”
“Yeah, and how did you know we’d eaten there before?” CiCi was the font of all gossip in Craig County and was not used to the shoe being on the other foot when it came to her own personal life.
“Word gets around,” Lila said with no small degree of satisfaction. “So, what’s up with you two?”
“Nothing. We go out to lunch and dinner at The Windmill. That’s it. Weren’t you the one to tell me to go out with the guy and keep it simple?”
“Yeah, I was,” Lila admitted. “But I thought that was just a strategy for you to use to be polite before you let him down easy. But apparently you like more than just the food at The Windmill.”
“Right. The guy hasn’t made one move on me. He’s a friend. That’s it.”
“If he’s just a friend,” Lila said as Walker approached them, “why do you keep giving him a chance to make a move?”
CiCi couldn’t answer because Walker joined them near the door.
Lila shouted some instructions to the kids as they left, telling them they would review the information they had gathered in class on Monday. In a few minutes, the students were gone and Lila, Walker, and CiCi were walking back to the visitors’ center, which was crawling with tourists.
“Wow,” Lila breathed. “This place is crazy. I’d better go find Bo and see if he needs any help. I have a feeling I might be drafted into tour guide duty today.”
She thanked CiCi and Walker and was off toward the tasting room in an instant.
“Ready to get out of here?” Walker asked and pulled his keys from his pants pocket.
“You want to go?” CiCi asked with surprise. “I thought you loved this place like a second home.”
CiCi and Walker had talked enough with each other about their respective jobs that each knew more than a little something about the other’s position. And CiCi had heard Walker talk quite a bit about how to make bourbon and how much he loved it, so to hear him say he wanted to leave the distillery was surprising.
“I do,” he admitted, “but it still can get a little wild here. I like quiet places. They do exist, if you know where to look.”
“Like your happy place?”
“Exactly,” Walker said with a laugh.
They navigated their way through the tourists and out of the visitors’ center to the parking lot. Walker had CiCi to her driveway on Main Street in less than ten minutes.
“You have a really nice home,” Walker said as he walked CiCi to her front porch. “I’ve been looking for a house. Getting tired of the little apartment I’ve been renting on the south end of town.”
“I think there’s a townhome for sale where Brady used to live,” CiCi told him as she dug in her purse for her keys.
Walker shook his head. “I want a house. I want a yard, even though I know I’ll have to take care of it.”
This was a bit surprising. Most guys CiCi knew who were single wanted something simple, like an apartment or condo. Not Walker. How domestic of him.
CiCi mentioned to Walker she knew of a neighbor a
few streets over that was getting ready to sell. “I’ll e-mail you her phone number if you’d like,” CiCi offered.
“Thanks, I’d like that.”
“So,” CiCi said decisively as she finally located her keys and pulled them from the depths of her oversized white leather handbag. “Same time next Saturday for lunch?”
She couldn’t believe she’d said it. Usually Walker was the one to make the next date—wait—these weren’t dates.
“No.”
“No?”
“CiCi, may I please take you to dinner? A proper dinner?”
She knew something like this was going to happen. Why hadn’t she been more prepared for this moment?
“That sounds like a real date, Walker,” she teased, trying to defuse the tension.
“Well, it would be.”
He was so earnest and just the tiniest bit needy.
Say yes.
No.
Wait.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, trying to delay a decision. But as soon as the question escaped her lips, CiCi realized she was well down the road to accepting his invitation by asking whether he had a plan.
He did.
“I’d love to take you to the Old Talbott Tavern in Bardstown,” he said, hope blossoming on his face.
“That’s a bit of drive from here, isn’t it?”
“Not more than an hour. And I know the roads. I know Bardstown. Worked there for Heaven Hill and Barton. At this time of year, there will be plenty of light in the evening so we wouldn’t be coming home in complete darkness. What do you say?”
CiCi bit her lip, and her eyes darted around her small front porch. “Well, okay… but let’s make it the following weekend.” CiCi wasn’t ready for the Big Date yet.
“Two weeks from today? Sure.”
“But are we still on for lunch next Saturday as usual?” CiCi felt unreasonably guilty for delaying and wanted to cheer him.
Then it was Walker’s turn to be hesitant. “Next Saturday… something’s going on at the distillery. What is it?” he said to himself and struggled to remember. “Oh, yeah. There’s a group from the Kentucky Association of Distilleries that’s coming to tour the place. I need to be there for that in the morning, but I’d love to have lunch… as usual,” he added with emphasis.
Distiller's Choice (Bourbon Springs Book 4) Page 2