5. Tanner
5
TANNER
I t is day twenty-nine. I have called Jerry every day for the past month to see if he has heard anything because I am keen to get started on my plans. But as of yesterday, no long-lost niece has come to take ownership, so I am excited to get things in motion.
“I love this jet,” Sawyer says as we step off my private aircraft after a week in New York. A twelve-seater with white leather seats and dark wood paneling, the bar stocked with my whiskey. There is a lot to love.
“Do I get to take the cost of transporting you off your retainer?” I smirk at him as we jump into the truck already sitting on the tarmac for me. I don’t like having a driver when at home. My team knows to just deliver my truck and let me drive.
“Nah, I might increase your rates and buy my own,” he quips. Smart-ass . I turn out of the small airport and hit the road, looking out the window at the green pastures, and take a breath, relieved to be home. I hate the city. But with business booming and Connor managing the office there at the moment, I need to travel frequently.
“Is everything organized?” I ask Sawyer again, probably for the hundredth time.
“Yes. Paperwork is ready to sign; funds are also ready to go. Griffin and his team are just waiting for the go-ahead. The only thing we need is for the deadline to end officially and for Jerry to answer my call.” Nodding to me, I know he has it all under control.
“I have Griffin flying in tomorrow,” I tell him, feeling everything finally coming together. If it all goes to plan, I should have my new building operational before the end of the year and just in time for the holidays.
“We can sign the papers first thing tomorrow and transfer the funds. I will put a rush through for final building permits, and Griffin and his team should be able to start demolition almost immediately,” Sawyer confirms, and I nod, eager about this new venture.
The distillery was something I started in my youth. The art of making whiskey was handed down to me from my father, and the one thing that I was good at. Becoming a dad as a teenager wasn’t part of my plan, and so instead of moving away for college, I stayed home and delved into the whiskey business, working from my dad’s shed while being a devoted dad to my son. I had to make the whiskey business work, for both our sakes. I kept my head down and built Whiteman’s up to where it is today. The country's most premium brand of whiskey—the only whiskey to be in the White House with President Rothschild and it has turned our small family of two into billionaires .
“I still haven’t heard from Jerry today,” Sawyer says, rolling his cell in his hand.
“I spoke to him yesterday, told him we will see him when we land. He knows I want this place immediately.” Jerry being quiet today is unusual, but I’m not worried. With only twenty-four hours left, I know the land is mine.
“What do you plan to do with the animals?” Sawyer asks, looking at me.
“I will rehome them. Shit, might even keep that stupid goat that bleats all night. It could be a good security alarm to have around the back of the distillery.” We both chuckle at that.
“Why do you want it so much?” Sawyer asks me, looking at me seriously for a moment. “I mean, you have a lot of land surrounding the distillery. You could build your accommodation in any number of places. Why this one?”
“It’s special, that area. Grass is always green, the natural springs are on that parcel of land, and the soil is nourished so you can grow anything. The wind blows from the west across the springs, so the air is fresh, no matter what time of the day. Plus, the outlook onto the distillery is photo worthy. It’s quiet, picturesque. There is just something magical about that place,” I tell him.
Seeing the look on Sawyer’s face I know he doesn’t quite get it, so I turn it into business speak. “People will pay top dollar for a weekend here, and adding accommodation to the site will just further push the destination of Whispers.”
“You love this town, don’t you?” he asks, and I swear I see some admiration in his expression as we drive through the small place I have called home my entire life.
“It’s in my blood. Whispers and whiskey. You can’t have one without the other.”
“You missed a W ,” Sawyer says, and I frown, wondering what he is talking about.
“Women. You need whiskey, Whispers, and women.”
I haven’t taken another woman permanently into my life since Connor's mom skipped town over thirty years ago. Heard she came back once. By the time I went to her parents’ place to see her and ask why she ran out on her only child, she had already gone. She stayed an hour to pick up some paperwork and fled. So it was clear that the life I had and the son we shared was not what she wanted. Her parents helped out a little in the beginning, but their support eventually waned as well, before they both passed about a decade ago.
That’s not to say I have been a saint. I meet women, mostly in the city when I visit. There is something city women seem to like about me. I'm not sure if it is my slight country accent, my ruggedness, my money, or just that I am from out of town, but either way, I am never short of female attention. I just never commit.
When Connor's mom left, I had to focus on him. He was and still is my number one priority. I tried to be the best dad I could and to be there for every milestone. I cooked his birthday cakes, coached his baseball team, nursed him when he was sick, helped with homework. The town talked, of course. I was young, just a kid myself. So I had to prove to them and myself that I could do it. There wasn’t time to look at girls or go on dates, regardless of how many tried. Connor already had a mother figure leave him, and I wasn’t going to be responsible for that to potentially happen again. The fear of being left is something that festers inside of me and has for years.
When Connor went away to college, it coincided with the distillery business booming. So when he left, I filled the void with work, kept my head down, developed new batches, new labels, turned my millions into billions, and the distillery became my new baby. I nurtured it, and I worked hard to build something for Connor to come back to. Women have always been a distant second to all that. I thought someone would cross my path along the way, pique my interest, but as the years roll on, I am more settled being on my own with Connor and the business.
I don’t need any complications. Besides, I am fifty-one, too old and too grumpy to even think about it.
“Whiskey and Whispers are fine,” I growl, gripping on to the steering wheel tight. Connor and the boys are always on my case about finding someone. He is scared that I am going to end up alone. But that is exactly how I like my life.
“I think you just came up with your new slogan. Whiskey and Whispers, you can’t have one without the other. Better let the marketing team know. I think it would work well with your new accommodation offering,” Sawyer says, and I smile.
“What, so now you want a bonus?” I smirk, knowing he doesn’t need a bonus. His law firm is one of the biggest in the country. At the helm of it, he’s just as wealthy as the rest of us.
“Nah, just my own jet will be fine, thanks,” he says in jest. I chuckle as I turn down Distillery Drive, the road that houses exactly two properties, my distillery and Marie’s place.
“Is that Jerry’s truck?” Sawyer sits forward, looking out the window.
“I’ll pull up,” I say, coming to stop in the middle of the road and Jerry’s truck does the same. I open the window to chat.
“Jerry, we can meet you at Marie’s and sign the papers today if you want?” I tell him, keen to get this sorted.
“She turned up,” Jerry says in disbelief. Well, shit.
“She turned up?”
“Yes, she is here,” Jerry says, nodding back to where Marie’s place is located.
“Shit,” Sawyer mutters, looking at me.
“What do you mean, she turned up? Who even is she?” I ask, my tone growing angry and desperate.
“Pretty little thing. Looks like she was plucked straight out of a movie set. I sure as hell know she has never set foot on a farm before. Hell, she probably hasn’t ever left New York. Fancy clothes, hair nice and neat, friendly and polite,” Jerry says, and I frown, not liking this at all.
“I don’t understand. Why would she leave New York for here?” Sawyer asks, astounded. He catches my eye, and his face changes. “I mean, Whispers is lovely. Of course, she would want to be here.” He rolls his eyes, and I send him a scowl.
“Is she planning to stay?” I bark, my body feeling tighter by the second .
“She didn’t elaborate on her plans. I told her that you were keen to buy, but she didn’t seem interested.”
My jaw pops in irritation. “So if she doesn’t want to sell, what is she thinking?”
“There is only one thing she must be doing,” Jerry tells me, and I impatiently wait for him to continue. “She is going to stay and live on Marie’s farm.”
I almost laugh at how ridiculous that idea sounds. The farm is so run-down and is not a money earner, so she will need another income.
“What the hell? That farm needs a lot of work.” Sawyer’s seemingly just as confused and startled as I am.
Jerry chuckles. “I don’t think she will last the day. She wasn’t even wearing boots.”
“I’m going to see her,” I state, not interested in waiting another day. Jerry looks at me like I am crazy.
“I don’t think—” he starts to advise, but I cut him off.
“I’ll present her an offer she can’t refuse. I want to get started on the demolition, get the wheels in motion. Sawyer, get the check ready. I am sure a few zeros will be all it takes. See you, Jerry.”
Then I take off down the road, leaving Jerry in a cloud of dust as his mouth moves open and closed like a goldfish in surprise. Forcing someone’s hand is not my usual way of doing business, but I am sure money will talk. It usually does. A small smile comes to my face. I should have ownership by the end of the day. Then I can get to work on the expansion.
Little Miss City Slicker will be putty in my hands.