“Maybe,” Hannah said with a smile.
“Why are you here today?” Miranda asked Jorrie. “Oh, I forgot—you’re counsel for GarnetBrooke.”
“I should be asking you that question,” Prent said, his inquiry directed to Miranda.
“Well, I am going to be the rotating clinic doctor. Only makes sense I’m here, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t know that.”
Hannah turned away from the food table, nearly spilling the fruit from her small paper plate.
“Wait—you didn’t know that Miranda had agreed to be—”
Prent shook his head. “News to me.”
Hannah scowled at her brother, who was still huddled in the corner with Jon.
“I thought you told him!”
“And I thought you did,” Bo said, pointing at Jon.
“I thought he already knew,” Jon said with a shrug.
An uncomfortable silence descended.
“It’s not a problem, far from it,” Prent said as his eyes briefly darted toward Miranda. “It’s just a surprise. And a pleasant one at that.”
He smiled and moved toward the table with the breakfast goodies as Hannah got out of his way and placed her plate and cup of coffee next to Miranda’s chair.
“You sure you’re good with this?” Hannah said under her breath to Miranda as they stood behind their seats.
“Yes. No worries,” Miranda said as flatly as she could.
Hannah gave her a disbelieving look but said nothing and took her seat while Miranda went back to grab something to eat and drink before the meeting got underway. When she returned to the table, she noted that Prent had taken the seat to her right, putting space between himself and Hannah, who sat to Miranda’s left. Across the table were Bo, Jon, and Jorrie, all nibbling on breakfast pastries and drinking coffee.
“You want to start?” Hannah asked Bo after she’d finished the last of a muffin.
“Not really,” he demurred, “so go for it.”
Hannah sighed and launched into an explanation of the rotating clinic plans. She announced that everything had been arranged with the state and that the meeting that morning was just to finalize a few matters.
“I’d like to see the clinic spaces,” Miranda said.
“We can show you our clinic right after this meeting,” Bo said.
“Where is it?” Miranda asked.
“Down at the end of the hall where our offices are,” Hannah said. “It’s a small storage area we didn’t use. Goose is down there as we speak putting in some cabinets and getting a sink in. It’s going to be really nice.”
“It’s right next to the door out to the grounds so workers can easily find it,” Jon added. “We do bring tours through there though. That’s the only thing that might be a bit disturbing. But it’s really the only space we have available, other than a cramped room on the third floor of the distillery up a maze of old metal staircases.”
“And sick people don’t need to be climbing stairs,” Miranda observed. “So when do we get going? After the new year?”
Jon confirmed that everything with the state should be finalized by the middle of January.
“That fast?” Prent asked. “I know our lawyers in Lexington have discussed some of this with you already, but I guess I have to say I feel a little late to the party.”
“We’ve been working on this for a while,” Jon replied, “and the state is anxious for us to get this off the ground. I think they also like the angle that a distillery, a horse farm, and a cooperage are involved. There’s some novelty to it, and I’m pretty sure we’re being used as guinea pigs—in a good way—for a program they want to take to a wider audience. If the powers that be in the public and private sectors see that this works, I think that the state will try to get some laws changed to make these kinds of clinics easier to establish.”
“So, mid-January,” Miranda said in a slow voice. “What about schedules?”
A long discussion ensued with Miranda getting the schedule she expected: one afternoon a week, probably Fridays, where she would have at least one hour in each clinic at GarnetBrooke and Old Garnet. Friday afternoons were the best for her because she didn’t schedule patients that late in the week.
“But what about the cooperage?” Prent asked. “Is there another day of the week you could come down to Littleham?”
“I don’t know when to fit it in Monday through Friday,” Miranda said.
“What about Saturdays?”
Miranda looked blankly at him. She hadn’t counted on giving up part of her weekends for this little bit of extra money.
“I don’t know,” she hedged.
“But what other time could you work it in?” Jon asked.
After a moment’s reflection, she realized that Prent’s suggestion was reasonable. Technically, she was signing up for the equivalent of a part-time job, and that meant she had to take the hours and the day which came with it.
“You’re right,” Miranda admitted, glancing at Prent. “I forgot the cooperage operated on Saturdays.”
“We have shifts running every day except Sundays. We do shut down for a few weeks in the summer when some of the major distilleries go on hiatus,” he said, “so you’ll get some time off then. So can you come down today and see your new clinic?”
Miranda felt the eyes of all upon her. If she said no, she would risk looking spiteful in a professional setting.
“Yes, later this afternoon,” she agreed.
Prent smiled and flashed a grin that was far from professional.
After a little more discussion, the meeting adjourned and Hannah offered to show Miranda the new clinic space. It followed that everyone migrated to the room at the far end of the hall off the main lobby, where Goose was installing a handle on a cabinet. After a short inspection, the group began to break up.
“I can take you across to GarnetBrooke right now to show you the clinic there,” Jorrie said. “Pepper said she’d love to show it to you.”
“Sounds great,” Miranda said as she walked with Jorrie into the lobby with Hannah and Prent following behind.
“What time will you be down my way?” Prent asked. “I’ll let Minerva know you’ll be there.”
“Minerva’s still there?”
“Of course,” he said. “Has to keep everyone in line.”
Miranda couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Minerva Buchanan and was happy to realize that she’d again be seeing her on a regular basis.
She couldn’t say the same thing about Kurt Oakes.
She told Prent that it would likely be very late in the day, perhaps even after hours.
“Not a problem. We’ll be there,” he said. He bade good-bye to the group and loped out of the visitors’ center.
Miranda, Hannah, and Jorrie moved into the lobby, which was filling with visitors. Miranda glanced outside and saw people disembarking a bus.
“That’s the day’s first tour,” Hannah said and nodded toward the front of the building where people were streaming in.
Jorrie asked whether there was a joint farm-distillery tour that morning, and Hannah confirmed that there was.
“Then we’d better get ahead of those people and get across the road to the farm,” Jorrie said to Miranda before she excused herself to the restroom.
The visitors’ center swirled with people, and Hannah invited Miranda into her office to escape the burgeoning crowds.
“Never thought a distillery would be a popular place to come during the holidays,” Miranda said.
“Boy, are you wrong,” Hannah said as she tossed her notepad and a stack of papers onto her desk. “We can’t beat ’em away with a stick during the holidays. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. We’re even thinking about opening again on New Year’s Day. We did that last year to celebrate Goose and Harriet’s engagement and had throngs of people show up. Of course, that was when everyone was still hot to see where little Jacob Craft was born. But I’d be willing to wager we’d
get a good crowd this year if we decide to do it.”
“Maybe I’ll come out here on New Year’s if you’re open,” Miranda said. “It’s beautiful, and I won’t have anywhere else to go unless one of my patients decides to have a New Year’s baby.”
Hannah stood before her desk, crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned back.
“I have to ask you this, Miranda,” she began, “and not just because I’m nosy although I’ll admit that I am. Are you good with the circumstances of this clinic deal?”
“Yes, I’m a professional, and I can handle it.”
“I just hope Prent feels the same way,” Hannah said. “The man looks at you like a lost puppy.”
Jorrie appeared at that moment and announced she was ready to leave for the farm.
“Have fun at GarnetBrooke this morning,” Hannah said as Miranda pulled on her coat. “And if we’re open on New Year’s, I imagine I’ll see all of you here,” she called after them.
Miranda turned before she and Jorrie had reached the door.
“All of us?”
“Yes,” replied Hannah with a grin. “You two ladies, along with Mack… as well as Prent.”
5
Pressed for time that afternoon, instead of taking the nice, straight route of Ashbrooke Pike south to Springfield and then Route 55 southwest to Littleham, Miranda made the decision to take the more direct way to Littleham although the roads were narrower. Prent always called this small collection of roads the “back way to Bourbon Springs,” and she had traveled it many a time when they had been together.
In addition to simply being late and needing to shave time off her trip, Miranda wanted to time herself to see how long it would take her to get to the cooperage. After she’d left GarnetBrooke that morning, the skies had cleared, leaving good visibility except she was headed west and almost directly into the sun. She realized that the trip would not result in a good test of how long it took to travel from Bourbon Springs to Littleham since she would be driving down on Saturday mornings and the sun would be rising instead of setting.
She had not been on these roads since she and Prent had broken up and was happy to see the familiar sites that had been so common in her life only a few years ago.
A derelict gas station used as a farmer’s market in the warmer weather.
A large farm pond where Canadian geese and blue herons often congregated.
The Knobs, that collection of pointed rises to the southwest providing a large, looming border for the central Bluegrass Region. She was grateful for hills since they occasionally helped block the sun, which became more and more bothersome as it sank lower in the late December sky.
About halfway between the towns, Miranda tensed. She was approaching Prent’s house, a place where she had spent many hours. A place where she had expected to spend her married life.
As she cleared a small rise, the imposing estate came into view on the left. Porticoed with huge columns, it reminded Miranda of Hannah and Kyle’s house in Craig County, except that Prent’s place was even bigger. A ridiculously large place for just one resident.
Why had Prent kept the place? As soon as the question formed in her mind, she knew the answer.
He hoped another resident would join him someday.
Ten minutes later Miranda was pulling into the parking lot at Commonwealth Cooperage on the northern side of Littleham. The main office was of recent construction and thus the product of bland business architecture. Prent had told her that ten years ago the old headquarters, which had been nothing more than an old bungalow on Cross Street in Littleham, had been torn down and replaced with more spacious albeit dull offices.
The resulting effect was that it looked like a small barn had been placed on the outskirts of the downtown area.
The building had a pitched roof, brown siding, and minimal windows on the sides facing the street and parking lots, which allowed for a large logo to be affixed to the side of the structure. While most people might not care for the use of brown in such a building project, Miranda understood that the use of color was quite deliberate and a nod to the classic color of not just a barrel, but the finished product which emerged from it after the aging process.
As she walked the short distance to the front door, Miranda spied the top branches of the Old Oak on the other side of the building and caught a whiff of the distinctly satisfying aroma of burning wood. To her right, beyond the parking lot and down a small incline, was the factory building, a long rectangular structure situated perpendicular to the main offices. The lumberyard loomed beyond the factory, where stacks of oak aged in the open air before they were crafted into barrels.
“Hey, hon!” Minerva greeted her as soon as Miranda walked into the small reception area. “Been too long!”
The two women fell into an embrace.
“You still keeping those men in line?” Miranda asked.
“It’s a full-time job. Has been for most of my adult life although Ollie, God rest his soul, didn’t need a minder.”
“And I take it I do?”
Prent appeared from the adjoining hallway and put his arm around Minerva’s waist, a movement she mirrored.
“You need constant supervision,” Minerva said, “but won’t allow it.”
“Who says I won’t?” Prent said, looking offended. “Still after that woman, aren’t I? She can easily rein me in.”
“Down, boy,” Minerva said in a warning tone. “Dr. Chaplin is here for reasons that have nothing to do with you. Don’t you dare make her uncomfortable.”
“I know, but at least let me defend myself.”
It was the type of welcome she expected—the warmth of Minerva and the silly remarks of Prent—although she hadn’t encountered Kurt yet. She figured she wouldn’t get out of the visit without at least one meeting with the man.
“Want me to show you to the clinic?” Minerva asked, and Miranda accepted.
They ducked into the hall from which Prent had appeared, passing by various offices, including the closed door with Kurt’s name on a brass plaque on the front. Even though she knew Kurt to be standoffish, she thought it odd he wasn’t taking the time to greet her. After all, her presence there that day was not a social call but business, and from Miranda’s recollection that was the only thing he cared about.
She looked into Prent’s office as they passed and felt herself getting warm when she spied the couch.
On more than one occasion, they had enjoyed a tryst there, usually after they’d eaten at the really great Italian restaurant a few blocks away in downtown Littleham. The place was regionally well known, and Miranda hadn’t been there since she and Prent had broken up. She wracked her brains, trying to think of the name of the eatery.
“Oh, Maggioli’s is now open for lunch on Saturdays in case you want to pop down there after your clinic duties,” Prent said.
Shit. She was in trouble.
He’d known exactly what she’d been thinking.
And now she was coming back into his orbit on a regular basis on the grounds of simply doing business. How was she going to keep those lines nice and bright—and uncrossed?
“Like she’d have the time or inclination to go with the likes of you,” Minerva teased.
“Maybe you can chaperone us,” Prent said.
“I’d rather dance with your uncle.”
Miranda snorted in laughter, with Prent joining her.
They reached the end of the hall, and Minerva stopped and pointed to the door in front of them.
“This door leads outside.” Minerva opened it to reveal a covered walkway down a flight of stairs to the building Miranda recognized as the main cooperage. “Workers can come right in here, and your clinic will be the first thing on their right as they enter.”
Minerva opened the door to the clinic-to-be, and Miranda stepped inside.
The space was bigger than she had expected, far outstripping the spaces at Old Garnet and GarnetBrooke. To the right was a sink and cabinet set, with th
ree chairs. To the far left of the room was an examination table. The wall opposite the door was glass, providing excellent natural light, but Miranda realized that for privacy concerns they would need to put up curtains or shades. She took a few steps into the room but stopped in the middle once she saw the view.
“Lovely view of the Old Oak,” Minerva said as she moved to the window.
Prent joined Minerva and then turned around to give Miranda an intense stare. She realized that once again they were sharing the same thought: memories of what had happened under that tree one December night not so long ago.
Minerva mentioned that she had several documents Miranda needed to sign, and the two women moved toward the door of the clinic room.
“Prent!” echoed an angry voice down the hall.
Minerva let out a long breath as Prent strode to the door.
“I’m being paged, it seems. I’ll be back. Please don’t go without saying good-bye. I need to ask you something,” he said, addressing Miranda.
“I take it Kurt hasn’t changed?” Miranda asked.
“Oh yeah, Kurt’s changed,” Minerva said. “But not for the better. Ornerier than ever and usually takes it out on Prent, as you heard. It’s just not fair. And it’s so ironic.”
“How’s that?”
“Because Prent has changed. He’s matured. But I reckon you know that.”
“How do you figure? I see the same crazy guy.”
“Then why’d you sign up for this? You must be comfortable with the conditions if you agreed to the clinic project. And that means you have to see he’s changed—except in one regard.”
“Actually, the truth is that I need the extra income. My rent at my practice went way up recently. This is my way of staying a solo medical practitioner in a small town and maintaining my independence. But keep all that to yourself. And what did you mean about Prent not changing in one way?”
“That he’s still in love with you.”
Miranda swallowed in the face of such brutal honesty.
“You must think I’m the most coldhearted bitch in the Bluegrass,” Miranda whispered.
Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3) Page 33