by Kaylee Ryan
I hate talking about it, about my past. Molly is nice and has kind of taken me under her wing. Since I’m going to be living above her garage and working for her and her fiancé, the least I can do is tell her my background. “No family. I was in foster care until I was twelve. Well, I mean, technically I was still in foster care, but only one home. Elaine, she took me in. She was my social worker. She was my only family.”
“Was?” Molly asks gently.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yeah, she passed away last month.”
“Oh, Saylor.” She places her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. She was amazing. So, yeah, no family to speak of. My best friend, Tara, lives in Cincy still. She offered to let me stay with her, but I just can’t go back there. Everything reminds me of Elaine. She was home, not the town.”
“So you left there to come here after she passed?” she asks.
“No. Pete was always moving back home to work for the family business. He begged me to come with him. Convinced me it was the next step for us. I moved out of Elaine’s house and moved here. I feel so damn guilty for leaving her. He fucked me over, and she was alone when she died.” I feel the hot tears as they prick the back of my eyes. I blink hard, trying to keep them at bay.
“He’s an ass. Elaine loved you, Saylor. I’m sure she was thrilled to know you had a good start at life, a job, your education. She would be proud of you.”
“Would she? I mean, do you think she would be happy that I left the only home I’ve ever known, the only family I’ve ever known, to be left by my live-in boyfriend who is marrying his secretary/baby mama?”
“She would be. You know why?”
I don’t answer her. My emotions are too strong, and my grip is slipping. I’m about to lose my shit in front of my new boss/landlord.
“She loved you first of all. Second, look at you. You’re not sitting in that hotel room wallowing in self-pity. You’re standing up, dusting off, and moving forward. She raised you to be strong and independent, and she would be damn proud of you for it.”
“You didn’t see me in the shower this morning, losing my shit,” I whisper, but she hears me.
“True, but your entitled to break down, multiple times if necessary. Hell, how long did you say the two of you were together?”
“About three and a half years. We started dating sophomore year in college.”
“See, that’s a long damn time. You’re human, Saylor. You have to grieve the loss of what could have been, but not the loss of that asshat. You deserve better.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Thanks, Molly.”
“You’re welcome. Turn right here.” She points to the next road. “First house on the left.”
“Wow, this place is nice,” I say, looking at the sprawling brick ranch.
“Thanks. We bought it about two years ago. We remodeled it ourselves. Well, Jake remodeled it himself. I just assisted.” She laughs.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you, we like it. Pull up next to the detached garage.” She points in front of us. “The people we bought it off of had a son in college who wanted his own space. They built him this apartment over the garage. It’s pretty sweet.”
I park in front of the garage like she said, and we both climb out. I follow Molly up the side steps and wait for her to unlock the door.
“Here we are, home sweet home.” She grins.
“Wow, this is great and bigger than I was expecting.”
“Yeah, it’s like nine hundred square feet or something close to that. One bedroom, one bathroom, living room, eat-in kitchen, open concept as you can see.” She waves her arms across the room. “It’s all yours.”
“How much?” I ask. I really want it. It’s better than anything I could afford from an apartment complex.
“Jake and I talked about it last night, and really we’re just happy to help you out. How about you buy the paint, and we’ll call it good for the first month’s rent?”
“Molly, this place is great. Where does it need paint?” I ask her. The walls are a cream color, and they look immaculate to me.
“The bathroom and bedroom need to be painted. So what do you say?”
“That’s hardly fair. That’s what, a hundred bucks in paint?”
She shrugs. “A hundred dollars a month it is. You’re hooked up to our water and electric, so a contribution to that, say fifty a month? I can’t imagine you would use more than that.”
“Seriously? One fifty?”
“Sounds good to me.” She holds out her hand for me to shake. I take it and smile at her. “Now, let’s take a look at those two rooms and go get some paint. I’m helping. I got a ton of experience from our remodel.”
“Don’t you have to work today?”
“Nope. Jake has it under control. He knows we’re painting, and then we’re going to go pick up your stuff. So go ahead and call asshat and let him know we’ll be there later and he shouldn’t be.”
“Molly, you don’t have to do this.”
“You’re right, I don’t have to. I want to. Come on, I’m good at it.” She gives me a big goofy grin.
“I can’t thank you and Jake enough for this, I mean…”
“You just did. We’re glad to help. Now come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me first to the bathroom and then the bedroom.
She’s right, they both need to be painted. “I think the cream works. Keep it neutral that way the next person doesn’t have to paint again.”
“Moving out already?” she asks.
“No.” I laugh. “Just thinking ahead. It’s my thing, you know. Nothing ever stays the same.”
“I have a feeling things are about to change for you.”
“Really? What makes you say that?”
“I have this feeling. I can’t really explain it. I’m not psychic or anything,” she says when she sees my not-so-convinced facial expression. “I’m a good judge of character, situations, and things like that. I’m usually right. Ask Jake.”
“Yeah, right. He’s going to agree with you regardless. He knows who keeps his bed warm at night.”
“True story,” she says with a laugh. “But for real, I see good things for you, Saylor.”
“Let’s go get some paint, crazy girl.” I grab her arm and pull her out the door. I like Molly; she’s easy to talk to and reminds me a lot of Tara. I need to think of something nice to do for her and Jake. They have saved me so much worry and stress. I’ll think of something. I invested the money from Elaine’s house so without the job at the bar, I’d be hosed. It was Pete’s idea and although it was a good one, now the money is tied up and I can’t access it for a few years without giant penalties.
“Did you text asshat?” Molly asks as soon as we get in the car.
“No, but I’ll do that now.”
Me: I’ll be there later today to get my stuff. Don’t be there.
Pete: Come on, Saylor. Can we not be adults about this?
Me: I don’t know, can you? Were you acting like a responsible adult when you stuck your dick in Tabitha? Don’t be there.
Pete: What has gotten into you? You’re better than this.
Me: I know. You did me a favor. I’ll text you when I’m done, and you can come back.
I toss my phone into the cupholder. It’s time to get paint, a new coat for a new chapter in life.
“Bout time you get here, boy,” Gramps rumbles from his bed.
I chuckle. “How you doing, Gramps?” I ask from where I stand leaning against the doorframe in his bedroom.
“I’m fine.” He coughs. It’s one of those deep coughs that make you cringe because you know it hurts just from the sound.
“I can tell.” I step further into his room and take the chair beside his bed.
“I don’t need a sitter,” he grumbles.
“I agree.” He looks shocked.
“Well, then what the hell are you doing here? I told that son of mine a
nd your mother that I didn’t need no help.”
“You might not, but who is going to run the distillery?”
“I can do it from here.”
“Really?” I sit back in my seat and cross my arms. “You’re going to run meetings barking like a seal?”
“I’ve done it before.”
“I’m sure you have, but, Gramps, the doctor says your emphysema is getting worse and pneumonia on top of that, it’s not good. Dad said they wanted to keep you in the hospital but you refused.”
“I have a—” He breaks off with a deep cough. “I have a business to run,” he wheezes.
“How about you let me do that. I’ll report in each day; you just worry about getting better.”
“You know beer,” he states matter of fact.
I try like hell to hide my smile. He’s grumpy as fuck in his old age, but this illness is making it worse. “I know beer; I also know whiskey. It’s been a few years since I’ve been here, but I know that place like the back of my hand.”
“Things change,” he says, defeated.
There, now we’re at the heart of the issue. I’m a prick. I went from spending every single summer with him to none at all. I’ve been back for a few days here and there since college, but nothing like I used to. “I’m here now.”
“So it seems.” He coughs again.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask.
“I’ve been doing fine on my own.”
He’s really pissed, as he should be. I make a mental note to let Mom and Dad know that, once he’s better, I’m going to stay a few more weeks, spend some quality time with him once he’s feeling like himself again. “I’m sorry it’s been so long,” I finally say.
“Hmpf.” He closes his eyes and turns away from me.
“Look, I’m here to help you get better. I’m not going away anytime soon. It would be a hell of a lot easier if you would just tell me where you are with things down at the distillery. Otherwise, I’m going to have to go down there and start digging to figure it out on my own.”
“The hell you will, boy. You know beer, not whiskey,” he says again.
“I know you. I know how you run your business. I can figure it out, and what I don’t know, I have you to help me. So, which is it going to be? You going to help me out or am I going to have to jump in feet first and wing it?”
“I don’t need you here,” he grumbles. “I can work from here.”
“I’m sure you can, but not efficiently. Not and run the distillery the way it needs to be ran. Let me do this for you, Gramps.”
“I’m tired, please leave me be,” he says, still facing the opposite wall.
With a heavy sigh, I leave him to rest. Back down stairs, I grab my bags that I left in the foyer and head to the west end of the house. That’s where the room is that I always used to stay in when I was here. Pushing open the door, nostalgia falls over me as I take it in. The same full-size bed with the blue and white checkered comforter sits in the center of the room. My old ball glove and bat are sitting on top of the bookshelf. So many memories. Walking further into the room, I take a look at the corkboard above the desk. A picture of me and my old buddy Jake, Gramps, and Jake’s Uncle Jerry, all of us holding our fishing poles, is still pinned there. I don’t remember exactly which summer it’s from, but I remember those fishing trips fondly. I’ll have to ask Jake if he and his uncle want to get together once Gramps starts feeling better.
I make quick work of unpacking before jumping in the shower and washing off the travel. My plan is to head over to the distillery and check on things. Dad didn’t when they were here, leaving that for me. I guess, even though they get along, there is still some animosity about the distillery between the two of them. Gramps is grumpy as hell, and although some of it is his illness, the rest lies on me. I’m a prick, have been anyway, but I’m going to make it up to him.
I check on him one more time before leaving. He’s sleeping, so I leave him be. I’m just going to go in for a few hours and see where things are. I assume Dorothy is still his assistant. Sharp as a whip, that one. I’m sure she can catch me up to speed.
The drive to the distillery is a familiar one. Things have changed, yet remain the same. What used to be a huge lake in my eyes as a kid, is now just a really big pond in my eyes as an adult. Baxter’s Distillery is located on over one hundred acres, and Gramps has all kinds of perks for his employees, the pond being one of them. There’s also a park and a full gym with twenty-four-hour access to employees. There is a full-time cafeteria, and one weekend a month, he has family day. You can bring your family to tour the facility, enjoy the park, the pond, and all the other amenities. As I drive to the main building that houses the offices, I take in the fall scene; it looks like a damn postcard. Gramps always used to describe it to me, but I’ve never been able to see it. I was always in school, and by the time we would come to visit for Christmas, all the leaves were gone. I can still hear him telling me to always enjoy the beauty of nature. Gramps is one of a kind for sure.
Pulling my rental into the spot marked reserved for Rhett Baxter, I can’t help but grin. Gramps used to say this was reserved for me when I came to visit. For years, I believed he had the sign there just for me. As I got older, I caught on of course. This is the first time I’ve driven and parked in this spot. I may not be the right Rhett Baxter, but my lips tilt in a smile all the same.
Inside, I take the elevator to the top floor, where I know I’ll find Dorothy sitting outside of Gramps office.
“Well, I’ll be,” she says as soon as I step off the elevator. “Rhett Baxter, you get your little hind end over here and give me a hug.” She stands from her desk and walks around to greet me.
I laugh. “Hey, Dorothy, how have you been?”
“My goodness, you’re not so little any more. It’s been too long.” She playfully smacks my arm. “I’m good, dear. How is your grandfather? The last time I spoke to him, he had his undies all in a bunch. I assume that’s why you’re here?”
“I guess you could say that. He needs rest, doctor’s orders, and well, he didn’t want the help, but Dad overruled him and here I am.”
She studies me. “How do you feel about that?”
I give her a smile, the one that usually gets me what I want with the ladies. “It’s been too long, and you’re more beautiful than ever.”
“Oh, hush you.” She waves her hand in the air before taking her seat back behind her desk.
I chuckle. “I miss this place. He’s not impressed that I’m here.”
“He misses you.” She says is so matter of fact, that I feel like an even bigger tool for not visiting sooner.
“So, where are we? Staffing, production times?” I fire off questions.
“How much do you know, Rhett?” Concerns laces her voice.
“What do you mean? How much do I know? About running the distillery?”
She shakes her head, a solemn look on her face. “No, child. He’s been ill for a while now. He swore to me that he told all of you.”
I stand stock-still waiting for her to say more. I’m not even sure I’m breathing. When she doesn’t elaborate, I find my voice, although it’s rough. I ask, “What are you talking about, Dorothy?”
“Oh dear.” She places her hand over her heart.
“Dorothy.” I say her name with authority.
“He’s going to be angry with me, but you need to know.” She takes a deep breath. “Two years ago, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. His symptoms are getting worse to where he loses his balance. It’s hard for him to even hold a pen.”
“Parkinson’s,” I repeat.
She nods. “Afraid so. That stubborn old coot refused to tell any of you, and lied to me about it. And now with his emphysema and the pneumonia on top of that, it’s taking a toll on his body.”
Needing to sit down, I take a seat in one of the many chairs reserved for guests who are here to see my grandfather. Why didn’t he tell us? Even more so, I should ha
ve fucking known. If I’d visited, l would have seen the signs. I should have been here. Fuck!
“Can he… I mean, what do we do now? Has he seen a specialist?”
She nods. “Yes, dear. There is nothing more they can do. He takes medication that helps with the tremors most of the time. The pneumonia is a setback, and a serious one. Many his age, who fall ill to pneumonia with Parkinson’s, well, they don’t seem to come out on the other side of the illness,” she says as gently as she can.
Her words sink in. This could take his life. I’ve been living it up, partying at college and then engrossing myself into the brewery, too damn busy being me to come and see the man who shaped who I am today. He was my best friend growing up. My heart is racing, as is my mind with what I can do. I need to speak to his doctors, get their credentials, find another doctor who can help him.
“Rhett.” Dorothy’s raises her voice, bringing me out of my mental debate. “We’ve taken him to the best doctors. He’s receiving the best care. What he needs is to not stress about things here. You being here, that’s what you can do for him. Make sure this place flourishes.”
“I wish he would have told us,” I say, fighting back the emotions that are fighting to break free. Dorothy is like a grandmother to me and has been with Gramps for years. Her and Grams were best friends before she passed, at least that’s what she’s always told me. It was before I was old enough to remember her.
“He’s a stubborn man, that one. Now, go on in.” She points to his office door. “I have a few items that need taken care of. I also have a few contracts for you to sign. There is no governing board, as he is the sole owner, and I know as sure as I stand here that he would agree with letting you step in. His feelings are hurt, but he knows deep down this is the best until he’s better.”
“You think so? Is he going to be able to come back? How bad is he?”
“I don’t know, my dear. He has good days and bad days, but this has really got him down. I’m glad you’re here, Rhett, for him and for the business.” She gives me a small sad smile and points toward the office door again. “I’ll be right behind you.”