5. Evan
I’d crossedthe fine line from concerned friend into stalker territory. Not only did I swing by Frannie’s house on my way home last night to see if there was an unfamiliar car in the driveway, but I’d also decided to drop by her school on my way to work again.
With one hand wrapped around a large skinny vanilla latte and the other holding a plain cup of black coffee, I entered the building.
“Hey, Evan. Long time no see.” Charice stood by the administrative assistant’s desk. She and Frannie had become close over the past couple of years. We got along okay, though I liked her a little bit less when I heard she’d been encouraging Frannie to put herself out there more. I couldn’t exactly tell her I was biding my time to make my own play for my best friend, so I said nothing when they went out on the occasional girls’ night.
“Is Frannie around?” I craned my neck, trying to peer around the doorway to see if Frannie was at her desk.
“She’s in a meeting right now, but should be done in a few minutes. What’s the occasion?” Charice nudged her chin toward the two cups in my hands.
“We didn’t get to have our first day of school dinner last night, so I thought I’d stop by with a latte. I don’t mind hanging around for a minute or two.” I took a step toward Frannie’s office. “Is it okay if I wait in there?”
“Oh, that room’s taken.” Charice cut me off before I could enter Frannie’s office, but not before I noticed a kid sitting in the chair across from the desk.
The kid looked up at me, his eyes full of regret. He had to be a Stewart. They were the only family I knew of that had sky-blue eyes and hair so dark that it looked black.
“What’s he in for?” I turned away from the door and took a seat in a chair in the waiting area.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss students with you.” Charice narrowed her eyes.
“I can’t believe Frannie’s the one dishing out consequences. When I used to get sent to the principal’s office, it was terrifying. Kids nowadays get to squish therapy putty around in their hands and talk about their feelings.” I shook my head.
Charice clamped a hand on her hip. “We encourage kids to talk to us. When we were younger, they still believed restrictions and punishments were the best way to gain compliance.”
“Maybe you’re onto something. I was a repeat offender, so obviously whatever they punished me with didn’t have the desired effect.” I took a swig of my coffee while Charice stared down at me, the hint of a smile teasing the corners of her lips.
If anyone knew who Frannie was with last night, it would be Charice. But there was no way I could get any info out of her without being obvious. The woman was trained in deciphering nonverbal communication. She was a pro. I could try fishing for details, but I’d have to be careful, or she’d be on to me like a starving duck on a crispy June bug.
“It’s too bad Frannie and I didn’t get to have our dinner last night. Do you know if her dad’s doing okay?” I kept my tone casual and as neutral as possible.
Charice’s brows furrowed so slightly I wasn’t sure they even moved. “She hasn’t said anything this morning, so I’d assume so.”
Nodding, I picked a spot on the carpet a few feet in front of me and focused. “It’s too bad what she’s going through with him. Especially after losing her mom so young.”
“It sure is. Can I ask you something?”
I looked up, meeting her no-nonsense gaze. “What’s up?”
At that moment, Frannie swept into the office. She had on a teal dress that wrapped around her middle and accentuated her waist. I loved it when she wore dresses. Sometimes I imagined lifting the hem of her skirt up over her full hips and bending her over the desk in her office until she screamed my name.
Now wasn’t the time for a hard-on inducing fantasy. I forced the blood to divert from my crotch and hopefully make its way back up to my brain, so I didn’t embarrass myself by saying something stupid.
“Evan! Two days in a row? It’s a good thing I ripped up that informal restraining order that prevented you from entering school property when I got hired on as principal.” Frannie took the latte from my hand without missing a beat. “Please say you stopped by to bring me this. I have the feeling I’m going to need an extra thousand or so milligrams of caffeine to get me through the day.”
Seeing her always put a smile on my face, but this morning she positively glowed. I beamed right back at her, though I wondered if the extra aura of happiness surrounding her had more to do with her date last night than it did with me bringing her caffeine.
“I missed you last night. I mean, I missed our dinner.” Sweat beaded at my hairline even though the office couldn’t be more than sixty-eight degrees. “Is everything okay with your dad?”
Her left eye twitched. That had been her tell since we were kids. If I didn’t think she was hiding something before, I knew it for a fact now.
“You know Dad. He’s always in need of something.” She took a sip of her drink, then closed her eyes just long enough to let out a contented sigh. “Thanks for this. You have no idea how much I appreciate it this morning.”
“You’re welcome. You’d let me know if there was anything I could do to help your dad, wouldn’t you?”
The look she shot me made it seem like she might be offended by my question. “Of course. You’re the first person I’d call if I needed help.”
“You’re sure?”
“One-hundred percent.” Her left eye twitched again. “Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason. I’d better get to the warehouse. Cole’s hoping to hear something back from that lab in Scotland where we sent one of those barrels we found this summer.” Frannie had been with me when my brother Miller surprised all of us by discovering a stash of old, dried-up barrels of Devil’s Distinct in a secret cellar in one of the warehouses. Since we’ve been trying to recreate the mash bill for the original whiskey our ancestors bottled, we’d sent one of the barrels away to see if the lab could find out if there were any insights to gather.
“You’d better get going then. I hope you get the info you need.” Frannie knew how important it was to us to discover that old recipe. It’s all my brother Cole had been talking about since he’d taken over as master distiller a few years ago.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full here, too.” I nodded toward her office, where the dark-haired kid still sat. He had to be a Stewart. Even though he couldn’t be more than ten, it was satisfying as hell to know the Stewart family wasn’t above getting sent to the principal’s office. Made me wonder what he was in for.
“Are we still on for Friday night?” Frannie asked.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” We always met up on Friday nights at Pappy’s Last Call for a burger and sometimes a beer. I looked forward to it all week long, and I hoped she wasn’t planning on cancelling on me again.
“Just making sure. Thanks again for the latte. You really know how to turn a day around.” She reached out and gave me a quick hug.
I wrapped my arms around her, careful not to hold her too long or too tight since we were standing in the middle of the office. The scent of vanilla hovered around us. I craved moments like this. There were just never enough of them, and they never lasted.
“I’d better get back to work,” Frannie said as she pulled away. “See you Friday night, though I’m pretty sure we’ll talk at least a dozen times before then.”
“I’ll let you know what we find out from the lab.” I glanced toward the kid in her office. “Don’t be too hard on him, Principal Masterson.”
“I’m never too hard on them.” Her lips split into a wide grin.
I waved to the rest of the women in the office who’d been doing their best to pretend like they were working and not eavesdropping on Frannie and me. Then I walked out of the school, still not sure exactly what was going on with my best friend. Obviously, she was keeping something from me, but I wasn’t going to press her. She’d tell me when she wanted to, though that didn’t mean I couldn’t keep looking into things on my own.
When I arrived at the distillery, I went into the office first. Usually, I headed straight to the warehouse area to double check our production schedule for the day, but I wanted to find out if Cole had heard from the lab.
I found my brothers in the conference room. Vaughn sat at the head of the table with Cole to his right. Danica, Cole’s fiancée, sat next to him, and a handful of Stewarts took up the rest of the seats. I leaned against the wall by the door and swept my gaze around the room, trying to get a read on what was going on.
Vaughn glanced over at me. “We got the report. Cole was just going over it.”
“Is there anything we can use?” I asked.
Cole shook his head. “Looks like the mash bill we’ve been using is almost exactly what they found when they analyzed the interior of the barrel. That means we’re missing something. It’s got to be a strain of yeast or something else that doesn’t have to do with the mash bill.”
“Were they able to check the char level of the barrel?” I asked.
There were only so many variables that went into making Tennessee whiskey. A distiller could mess with the ratio of grains, meaning the mash bill, or change the flavor of the whiskey depending on what kind of yeast they used. The only other variables were the char level of the barrel and how long a whiskey aged. We’d also theorized about whether the location where a barrel aged made any difference.
Since our barrels of whiskey had to sit around and mature for at least a couple of years for us to consider it whiskey, the exact location where it aged could make a big difference in the final product. Depending on how high up in the rickhouse a barrel sat, it could be exposed to a greater swing in seasonal temperatures.
Cole had spent the past several years trying to figure out what tiny tweaks he could make to recreate the exact chemistry of Devil’s Distinct. So far, he’d been unsuccessful.
“The char level’s on point,” Cole said. “That leaves the yeast. I found another lab that can try to analyze the strain of yeast, but there’s no guarantee of accuracy since those barrels sat there for so damn long.”
Davis Stewart, who held the title of co-manager of the distillery with my brother Vaughn, cleared his throat. “You’re taking us on a wild goose chase. An expensive wild goose chase. We’ve had good success with our new releases. The anniversary blend you and Harper came up with last summer was a huge hit. I don’t understand why you’re chasing ghosts of the past when we should be worried about the future.”
Harper nodded. She’d agree with her brother if he said we needed to start bottling swamp water. All the Stewart siblings would. I silently cursed our ancestors for leaving us in an impossible situation. Even with the success of Devil’s Dance, running the largest whiskey distillery in Tennessee with a family we’d been feuding with for over a hundred years meant always having to watch our backs.
Cole had tried to extricate our family’s interest in the distillery from the Stewarts but had been unsuccessful. If Danica hadn’t come in when she did and masterminded a plan we could all agree on about how to move forward, we might not have made it to the anniversary celebration this past summer.
“I understand your concern,” Danica said. She’d always been able to see both sides. “We all agreed on the five-year plan and we’re only into year one. Part of that plan was finding ways to honor the past while still looking toward the future. I think it’s fair to have Cole pursue investigating the yeast while we continue to put out the anniversary blend and get ready for the annual holiday release. Any objections?”
“I agree.” Charity Devine spoke up. As the sole representative from the Devine family—the third family in our fucked-up business arrangement—she kept the peace between Vaughn and Davis and rarely took sides.
Davis grumbled to himself, but held his tongue.
“Great. I’ll send it out today and see what we get back.” Cole pushed back from the table, his gaze trained on his fiancée. The two of them fit together better than biscuits and gravy. Kind of like Frannie and I would if I could grow a set of balls big enough to take a chance.
As the Stewarts left the room, I walked over to Danica. “Nice job. I don’t know how you keep Davis from boiling over, but I’m glad you do.”
“Thanks, Evan.” Danica picked up her notebook and clipped her pen to the front. “He just likes to hear his own voice sometimes.”
“Yeah, he does.”
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Are you bringing someone to the wedding?” She squinted like she was trying to get a read on me. “I need to know if you’ll have a plus-one. Our numbers are due to the caterer by the end of the week.”
“Yeah. I’m sure I’ll bring Frannie. You can put me down for two. Gluten-free option for her.”
Cole and Danica were going all out with their wedding and reception. My folks were super excited since he was the first one of us kids to tie the knot, though I imagined it wouldn’t be long before Miller and Amalie followed.
“Thanks. I’ll put you down for two with one gluten-free meal.” She flipped open her notebook and wrote something on one of the heavy ivory pages.
As soon as she did, a nagging doubt started to tap at my brain. I told my brothers and Danica I was headed to the warehouse, then pulled out my phone to text Frannie. With the way things had been going recently, I needed to make sure she hadn’t made other plans. My finger hovered over the screen. Having the conversation in person would be better. We could talk about it on Friday night. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and made my way to the warehouse, my mind filled with images of me and Frannie swaying to some slow song during the reception.