Chapter 29 #3
I could use a crappy-wine night with Junie again. She was sometimes the easiest of my sisters. A little bossy, a little sweet, but so wrapped up in her own life she didn’t delve so far into mine.
I toed off my boots and slumped against the door. The cool metal soaked through my sweater. I’d rather be with Myles.
Mama entered the kitchen, mug in hand. She drank decaf this late, and the mug usually had a splash or two of a Copper Summit bourbon. “Oh. I thought I heard someone come in.”
She knew I was home, or she wouldn’t be snooping in the kitchen. “Yeah, I called it early.”
“Not going well?” She rinsed her cup out and set it on the drying rack.
“It was going great.”
She glanced at me, picked her cup back up and filled it full of decaf. She grabbed another mug from the cupboard and filled that, too. Then from underneath the counter, she pulled out a bottle of Wynter Summit. Each cup got two splashes.
I could use a third.
She handed me my mug and beckoned me to follow her to the table. The flowers from Myles were in the middle. A perfect winter bouquet.
I took a deep drink of the spiked coffee. The warmth of the coffee paired with the burn of the alcohol calmed my nerves. Mama sipped her drink and waited for me to talk.
I took a second deep pull. My thoughts slowly unwound.
“He’s working from Montana, and he’s doing it for me.
” Mama dipped her head. She wouldn’t speak until I was done talking.
“What if something happens to his business? He’s doing this for me when he’s worked for years to build Foster House.
I told him I deserve better, but how selfish am I being? ”
“You deserve the best. He wants to be that best.”
“It shouldn’t cost him, though. Right?” Anguish filled my chest. “Shouldn’t we make each other better? I can’t ask him to give up his passion, his life, just to be with me.”
“Do you think whiskey is really his passion?” She tapped her fingers on her mug. I recognized the cadence. All my siblings and I had faced the coffee-mug interrogations.
“Yes?” He was driven. He was talented. He knew the business inside and out. “Yes,” I said more confidently.
“Do you think he wants it to be his life?” More tapping.
“Yes.” When she lifted a brow, I thought harder.
During the months I’d worked for him, there were times I’d caught glimpses.
Him with his old friend Cadillac Sam and the way they talked whiskey and business.
Myles got more expressive when he was discussing spirits.
When it came to bottom lines and contracts, he was focused.
Diligent, but not passionate. He’d enjoyed the topic because he had someone to talk to. “No. Not his entire life.”
“You know why your father didn’t hire a manager for the ranch when the distillery does just fine? Or why he didn’t fold the operation altogether?”
“Because the ranch teaches us discipline and hard work. ‘You can’t have an ego when you’re covered in manure.’” One of Daddy Darin’s many quotes. “And to keep us out of trouble.” Seven kids and multiple foster kids had needed something to do.
“Yes to all that.” She chuckled. “But there was another reason. He said a company would expand to take over a person’s life if they let it.
He knew we’d let him give all his time to Copper Summit.
He knew we’d understand. But the cows? They depended on him.
The horses, too. He couldn’t let Copper Summit take over his life so much that he was late feeding animals that needed him.
And once he left work and got dirty, well, there was no point in going back. ”
“The ranch gave him balance.”
Triumph filled her eyes. “Exactly. Myles has never had balance. Anything that happens with Foster House is not your responsibility.” She gave me a small smile. “Did you talk to him about this?”
I sighed. “No. I ran like he did. I was selfish.” I’d done exactly what I’d been upset with him for.
“Two peas in a pod.”
“His pod is more altruistic than mine. Should I go to him?” If I left now, I’d only be a half hour behind him. “Cruz would know what hotel he’s staying at, right?”
She snickered. “I thought Cruz was going to fall asleep in his mashed potatoes. I’m not even sure he made it to the shower before he collapsed onto his bed.”
“I can call Myles.” It wasn’t the same as rushing to his hotel room, wherever that was.
“It’s late.” She got up and rinsed out her cup again.
I was formulating what I would say in my head when she swooped back.
She gave me a kiss on the head. “It’s not always a bad thing to make them think about things a little longer.
” Then she shuffled toward the stairs on the other side of the pantry.
I downed the rest of my lukewarm coffee.
Smooth bourbon washed down my throat. I pulled the flowers toward me and buried my nose in the petals.
Carnations smelled so damn good. Not as nice as the man who’d given me a sweet kiss on the forehead when he dropped me off.
I’d need to think about me and Myles for a little longer, too.