“Apply for a job?” she asked, confusion in her voice.
And there was that look he hated. That bafflement mixed with disappointment.
“Hey, Mack, come on!” Goose gestured to him to come get a glass.
Jorrie nudged him and bade him to follow her. He hesitated for a few seconds but, realizing eyes were upon him, decided it would be easier to blend in if he went along.
Jorrie handed Mack a glass from the table and took one for herself as a tall man with dark hair toasted the couple.
“What is this?”
“Bluegrass Bubbly,” she whispered. “Cider, bourbon, and cherries. A Davenport thing, as I understand.”
“…and we all wish you much love,” the man concluded the toast, and all drank.
The pregnant blonde sipped on something that looked like plain cider, then turned and walked to the wall, where she flipped a switch. Gentle classical music from a sound system was piped into the visitors’ center, and the crowd began to break into small groups, some surrounding the newlyweds and waiting for a chance to chat.
“Damn,” Mack said after he’d finished his glass of Bluegrass Bubbly. “Mighty strong beverage for a little after eight in the morning.”
He stared at the cherries in the bottom of the glass and then rolled them into his mouth. Anything that infused with bourbon was bound to taste good.
“What do you expect at a distillery owner’s wedding at the distillery?”
Mack stared at his empty flute.
“They certainly didn’t skimp on the bourbon, did they?”
“Again, consider where you are. It’s not like it’s scarce around here.”
Mack glanced at Jorrie, who had chosen to stand next to him and watch the crowd rather than go out and mingle with her fellow guests.
His first impressions of her were correct. Pretty, nice, pleasant.
So why was she hanging out with him?
Was there still a little bit of stardust on his shoulders that she found moderately attractive? He wasn’t interested in those kinds of women any longer.
But if she wasn’t hanging about due to the smidgen of fame which was still attached to his name, why was she talking to him?
Could it be she was just—nice?
She turned and caught him looking at her.
He swallowed when he saw that she had green eyes and that she wasn’t merely pretty but drop-dead gorgeous.
Maybe it was his lucky day after all.
“Why aren’t you out there with the rest of them?” he asked her, feeling himself turning red.
“Maybe I want to hear a little more about why Mack Blanton’s in town.”
“Not much to hear. Rags-to-riches-to-rags story. Went to the big city, had some good times, then they ended.”
“Sorry to hear that. I loved watching you on TV. I have your album, by the way,” she added.
“Thanks,” he muttered and began to wonder how the hell he was going to get out of there. But his attention was diverted by a familiar-looking couple greeting Harriet and Goose a few yards away.
“I’m still not good with you two stealing our idea!” Harriet cried.
“You’re just mad that we beat you to it!” a redheaded woman said, embracing the bride.
“Idea?” a tall man beside the redhead asked before he took the last sip of his Bluegrass Bubbly.
“Getting married on the same spot where the proposal went down,” Goose explained.
The tall man took the redhead’s hand and nodded. The quartet chatted until the redhead—his old teaching colleague, Pepper Montrose—looked away and squinted in Mack’s direction.
“Mack?” she asked.
“That’s him, all right,” Goose confirmed.
Pepper left the group and bolted for Mack.
“Where have you been?” she exclaimed and threw her arms around him. “Why haven’t you called me?”
Mack awkwardly hugged his former coworker. They had worked together at the same elementary school until he left for supposed stardom in Nashville.
At the end of the past school year, he’d been hired permanently after substituting for Pepper upon her resignation—and after getting a recommendation from her. He’d been damned lucky that an elementary position was open and that he’d kept his teaching certificate current. Maybe he’d always expected to be back in Bourbon Springs, knowing that failure was the endgame. No other reason but fear that he’d made sure his teaching certification hadn’t lapsed.
“So why are you here today?” Pepper asked, holding him out at arm’s length.
Mack’s blue eyes darted to the floor and he couldn’t respond.
Jorrie did it for him. She slipped the folder from his hands and quietly handed it to Pepper. Pepper took the folder, opened it, and took one glance at the first sheet, an application for work. She removed the application but handed the folder back to a bewildered Mack.
“Jon?”
The tall blond man joined them, and Pepper introduced him as her new husband, Jon Buckler, a local attorney.
“Mack and I worked together at school before he left Bourbon Springs,” she said as the men shook hands. “Now he’s back. Think you could help him out?”
Pepper handed Jon the application, and he briefly examined it before addressing Mack.
“You bottled here before? You have experience?”
“I worked the bottling line part-time for three years. Never any problems.”
Jon nodded and handed Mack his application.
“Stick around until after this is over and we’ll have a little talk. I’m afraid there are a lot of other applicants for that job.”
“But I thought today was the day to apply,” Mack said with a little desperation in his voice.
“That was last week. I guess we forgot to change that information on the website. Sorry,” Jon said, looking a little guilty.
Pepper patted Mack on the arm, offered some encouragement, and turned to leave with Jon. Goose and Harriet were about to depart, and Pepper and Jon wanted to say good-bye.
“Want some quick advice about how to get that job?” Jorrie asked, not looking at him as the Bucklers walked away.
“How would you know how I could get that job?” Mack snapped. He felt humiliated and angry that he’d relied on the information on the website only to find out that he’d screwed up again.
Jorrie turned a stony face to him.
“Since I’m friends with some of these people, I’d think you’d have the brains to listen, but apparently you don’t—”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just that I didn’t expect to walk in on all this.” He spread out an arm to indicate the crowd in front of them. “And I really, really do need this job.” Mack looked at Jorrie. Her face had softened a little bit. “So—what’s the idea?”
She hesitated, and he knew she was sizing up his sincerity in that split second. For some unfathomable reason, she gave him the benefit of the doubt.
“You know that song on your album, Simple Gifts?”
“You know that song?”
“Sure I do. I told you I had your album, and that song is probably my favorite. It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. But what about it?”
“Offer to sing it. They didn’t have any live music this morning, and it would be perfect for a wedding. The acoustics in here have to be great.” She pointed to the open area above their heads.
“I don’t know,” Mack hedged, not happy about the idea of singing for his supper.
“Well, if you don’t like the idea of singing it to get a job,” Jorrie said, “sing it for what it truly would be.”
“What’s that?”
“A gift.”
Mack stared into Jorrie’s green eyes and was stunned. Who was this woman with such a pleasant disposition and gifted with uncommon common sense—and kindness?
He blinked, trying not to betray his obvious growing interest in her, and hoping he could wish it away.
Or was he going to have to change that plan?
2
She tilted her head and frowned, her annoyance evident at his apparent unwillingness to share what she had claimed was his gift.
His voice.
Mack saw disappointment in Jorrie’s face again—disappointment in him. But this was a bit of dismay he had the power to dispel.
“It’s a great idea,” he said, “but do you really think they’d want me to sing?”
“You can find out by asking the groom before he leaves.”
She slipped Mack’s champagne flute from his grasp and walked away.
Sing, something urged him as his eyes remained on Jorrie.
Mack turned to see that Goose and Harriet were nearly finished with the photographer, and heard Harriet talking about getting some shots outside.
Now or never. He walked determinedly toward Goose.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mack said as the couple was headed to the doors with the photographer ahead of them. “I was wondering—I’m not supposed to be here—but I do have something I’d like to do for you—to give you, since I’m already here.” He stammered anxiously. Mack had never been this nervous on live TV.
“You have something for us?” Goose asked.
“I’d like to sing for you, if that’s okay.”
Goose and Harriet broke into broad smiles and thanked him. The groom then addressed the crowd and introduced Mack to polite applause. Secretly pleased by his reception, Mack turned and caught Jorrie’s eye. She nodded and gave him a smile.
He felt his confidence return, something that had been missing for weeks. Something he thought he’d never get back.
“I’m sure most of you have heard this song,” Mack said to the crowd as he walked to the middle of the visitors’ center. “Especially if you’ve been to Shakertown. I think they sing it for every tour, and I know that when I used to take my students there, they’d teach the song to the kids. That’s how I learned it, and how I fell in love with this piece. It’s always sounded like home to me, and that’s the reason I insisted it go on my album.”
Standing in the middle of the glowing hardwood floor atop the bourbon flavor wheel, Mack readied himself to sing for the first time in public in months.
’Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free
’Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be, And when we find ourselves in the place just right, ’Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed, To turn, turn will be our delight, Till by turning, turning we come ’round right…
Mack was stunned by the enthusiastic response and relished it, having not heard such applause for himself in months. The rendition left many in tears, including the newlyweds and the man Mack recognized as the Kyle Sammons, Craig County Sheriff. The pregnant blonde, a woman he finally recognized as Hannah Davenport, one of the distillery owners and apparently the sheriff’s wife, pulled her husband into an embrace and kissed his cheek as he rubbed his eyes.
But the one person he wanted to see wasn’t in tears. Jorrie was clapping eagerly and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Mack was set upon by the small crowd and met a who’s who of local folks, including two married judges and their baby boy; the master distiller of Old Garnet and his wife, a curly-headed brunette in a bright red hat and matching dress; and Bo Davenport’s new wife, someone he vaguely recalled was a teacher at the high school.
“That was wonderful!” Hannah gushed as she hugged him. “Thank you so much!”
The sheriff offered Mack his hand to shake.
“Beautiful,” said the sheriff in a thick voice. “My mother used to sing that to me as a lullaby when I was little. I haven’t heard it in years.”
“I’m going to have to learn to sing it to the baby,” Hannah said, eyeing her tummy.
The newlyweds announced that they were going outside to take photos and would then be departing at once.
“We’ve got a honeymoon to go on, and you people have bourbon to make!” Goose said as he departed with Harriet to laughter.
Hannah and Kyle excused themselves to say good-bye, and Mack found himself standing alone for a moment until Pepper came to his side.
“I think it’s safe to say that you’re hired,” Pepper informed him.
“How do you know?”
“Because I overheard Jon mention your application to Hannah. And Hannah told Jon to make you an offer before you left the building. Here he comes now,” Pepper said, her eyes on her husband as he walked toward them.
“So when can you start?” Jon asked Mack at once.
“Now, if you need me.”
“I think next weekend will be early enough,” Jon said, patting Mack on the back. “I’m not the hiring director, but I can get this done. Let’s go down to my office and make things official.”
The bridal party and the guests had left, but Jorrie was lingering in the visitors’ center. She still had no clue as to how she’d gotten invited to the event but figured it was because of her incipient friendship with Pepper Montrose Buckler and the legal work she’d done for her on the joint tour agreements between Old Garnet and GarnetBrooke. Jorrie enjoyed the work as well as having a client as fun—and well paying —as Pepper.
Her new law partner, Drake Mercer, ambled to her side from the middle of the visitors’ center.
“You leaving soon?” Drake asked.
“Probably,” Jorrie said, looking around.
“How the hell did Mack Blanton end up here? He wasn’t invited, was he?”
Jorrie shook her head and told Drake about her encounter with Mack.
“I think he’s in Jon’s office right now, officially getting hired as a part-time bottler.” She dipped her head in the direction of the hallway off the main visitors’ center.
“Well, don’t wait around here too long on him. He’s not worth it. Those showbiz types are notorious to love ’em and leave ’em,” he teased.
“Who says I’m waiting on him?”
“Because I saw you talking with him earlier. And you’re still here,” Drake reasoned before walking away.
With Drake’s departure, she was the only guest remaining in the building. Everyone else had gone outside to bid good-bye to Goose and Harriet.
So why was she waiting on Mack?
He was good-looking enough and had a great voice, but he’d been rather rude to her. She didn’t need a guy like that in her life, although he had quickly apologized. And it was true that he’d walked into a weird situation when all he had been trying to do was find a job.
So should she go for it?
His eyes were such a pale blue that they seemed to sparkle. And his hair was almost as light as hers, although thick and a bit unkempt instead of curly. She could do worse—and had—and Mack seemed like he could be a bit of fun.
Conclusion: he was definitely worth investigating. No harm in that.
Jorrie strode toward the front doors, hoping she could catch a glimpse of Goose and Harriet before they left. But a few yards before she reached the exit, her phone rang and the familiar voice of Rissa Clore, her best friend, came through loud and clear.
“Hey, girl! I got great news!”
“You won the lottery and decided to share?” Jorrie asked.
She watched as Goose and Harriet got into one of the Old Garnet trucks, decorated with what appeared to be strips of wood—and were those actually bungs strung together and tied onto the back of the bumper?
“I thought your super-rich client would do that for you,” Rissa shot back.
“No such luck, although she does give me plenty of legal work, bless her heart. So what’s this fab news you have?”
“The firm is definitely adding another litigation branch,” Rissa said. “They want it up and running by late summer, early fall. They’re already trying to poach talent from
other firms around Lexington. I’ve given them your name, so expect a call.”
“Thank you!” Jorrie whispered into the phone.
“And I really talked you up,” Rissa said proudly. “I want you here in Lexington with me.”
“And I’d love to be at your firm,” Jorrie said. “I’ve been trying to get my foot in the door there for months.”
“And that’s not the half of it,” Rissa continued. “I’m pretty sure that I can set you up on a blind date with a really cute junior partner if you’re interested.”
“Blind date?”
“Yep,” Rissa confirmed. “I can make it happen. Trust me.”
“And this junior partner—he’s there in Lexington?”
“Yep, and he’s perfect for you. Not divorced, no recent horrible breakups, just a nice guy. Ambitious.”
“Perfect for me, huh? I’ve heard that before.”
“It’s just a blind date. Next Friday night. We can double-date, if you like. I’ll bring Nick along.”
“I thought you two broke up.”
“Sorta-kinda-maybe,” Rissa hedged. “But I’m sure I could get him to come along. What do you say? We could go to Woodford Reserve—they’re having those Friday picnics on that deck they have out there. I think they might have barrel-stave-grilled steaks and burgers.”
“You had me at Woodford. Set it up.”
Mack emerged from Jon’s office with a spring in his step and a spark in his heart. He’d snagged the job he wanted, had gotten to sing in front of an audience again, and had met a good-looking woman.
He stopped when he came to the edge of the main visitors’ center and saw Jorrie on the phone near the front doors.
Was it time to test the limits of his good luck? Although he had his rule about no girlfriends, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself.
As he stood there and thought about how to approach Jorrie and possibly ask her out (Where? The Windmill? That was about all he could afford), the sound of her voice was clear to him, although she was across the room. The strange acoustics of the oval-shaped space allowed him to eavesdrop from a distance.
He could hear her side of the conversation almost as clearly as if she were standing next to him.
Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3) Page 2