One for the Road Page 2

  Suddenly the door swung wide and a burly man stomped into the room. A small brown beagle followed close at his heels. When the dog spotted Jill he ran straight to her and rose up on his hind legs to be petted. The man, however, stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed his guests. ‘Didn’t know you two were down here. Sorry, you shouldn’t have heard that.’

  Except that he didn’t sound very sorry.

  ‘Every couple fights,’ said Michael.

  Having nothing nice to say, Jill remained silent.

  ‘I’m Roger Clark. That’s my mutt, Jack. Just push him down if you don’t like dogs.’ He set down a tray with a bottle, two snifters, and a bag of Smokies. ‘Try a sample of the best bourbon in the county.’

  ‘Thanks, we sure will.’ Michael stood to shake their proprietor’s hand, but Clark had already stomped off.

  ‘Let’s go, Jack!’ The innkeeper roared from the front hall. ‘You coming or not?’

  Dutifully, Jack ran to heed his master’s command, tail between his legs.

  ‘I want that dog.’ Jill bit down on her back molars.

  ‘You want every dog you see.’ Michael poured himself a glass of bourbon.

  ‘True, but I really want Jack. Mr Clark doesn’t deserve such a sweet dog. He deserves something mean and vicious.’

  While Michael laughed, Jill fantasized about smuggling Jack in her suitcase when it was time to leave.

  A few minutes later, Mrs Clark entered the library with a second tray. ‘Here’s your tea, Miss Curtis.’ She glanced from one face to the other. ‘Oh, dear, you must think you’ve checked into a house of horrors.’

  Jill jumped to her feet and took the tray from Mrs Curtis’s trembling hands. ‘We barely heard a word. Come, sit, and have tea with me.’

  With that, the woman burst into tears.

  Setting the tray on the hearth, Jill guided Mrs Clark to a chair, then poured two cups of tea. ‘We don’t think that at all.’ She handed the woman a cup.

  ‘Thank you, dear. Normally Roger isn’t like this, but there’s been so much pressure at the distillery.’ She took a sip of tea.

  ‘Like my partner said, every couple argues.’

  ‘Are either of you married?’ Mrs Clark gazed from one to the other.

  When they shook their heads, she set down her cup and stood. ‘In that case, I apologize if we spoiled any preconceived notions. Enjoy your complimentary beverages. When I see you tomorrow at breakfast, this tiff will be ancient history.’ She walked from the room with her head held high.

  During the bizarre happy hour, Jill ate three lemon scones and drank two cups of tea, while Michael gobbled half the sausages and consumed a liberal amount of bourbon.

  ‘Still want to go out for pizza?’ Michael asked once they both tired of staring at the fire.

  ‘Nah, the scones filled me up,’ Jill said with a yawn. ‘I’m going to read in bed for a while.’

  ‘Good idea. See ya in the morning. If it’s OK with you, let’s not start with Black Creek since Roger Clark owns the place.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ she said, as they both climbed the steps to the second floor. ‘Let’s give Mr Personality a little time to get over his bad mood.’

  TWO

  Wednesday morning

  Michael was first to break the ice as they left the B&B the next morning. ‘That omelet and homemade pecan rolls were delicious, but Mrs Clark didn’t say much at breakfast. And Mr Clark barely grunted as he hurried out the door.’

  ‘Who can blame her for being quiet? She was embarrassed about crying in front of strangers.’ Jill switched on the AC.

  ‘She shouldn’t have been. The neighbors probably hear my parents each time they argue. What’s the big deal?’

  ‘If you don’t know, there’s no point explaining. But I’ll tell you one thing, Erikson. If Roger starts yelling at his wife tonight, he’ll get a taste of real girl power.’ Jill shook her fist at the windshield.

  ‘Yeah, right. You’re such a big talker.’ Michael chuckled. ‘Hey, one of the major bourbon producers has a visitor center in town with videos and a mock-up of the process. Want to start there and learn the basics?’

  ‘Good idea. No way could I sample bourbon before noon, no matter how good it is. Let’s do the visitor center, then lunch, then on to Founder’s Reserve. That should fill the day nicely.’

  ‘Considering how much guesswork goes into the aging process, bourbon masters must all be old and gray,’ Michael said as they walked out of the visitor center and into the bright Kentucky sunshine.

  ‘You’re not kidding, but at least the video gave the general layout of a distillery and explained the necessary ingredients.’ Jill slipped in behind the wheel of the car.

  ‘Where should we eat? I’m starving.’

  ‘Since the visitor center took longer than expected, let’s just hit a drive-through and be on our way.’

  ‘Fine, pull into that famous chicken place on the left. After all, when in Kentucky …’

  On their way to the distillery, Michael munched on a two-piece crispy while Jill ate a grilled chicken sandwich. Then she switched off the AC, rolled down the window, and let her hair blow in the breeze. Twenty minutes later they reached the ornate entrance to Founder’s Reserve. Jill paused in the turn-around to admire the stone mansion with a clay tile roof. ‘Elegantly rustic – that’s how I would describe the facade.’ She jotted the phrase in her notebook.

  Michael’s opinion wasn’t as kind. ‘Looks to me they started with a log cabin and added on haphazardly at least a dozen times.’

  Jill pulled into a parking space. ‘What else can you do with a hundred-fifty-year-old family business? The place is gorgeous. Look at those private gardens. Any one of them would be perfect for a bridal shower or wedding.’

  Michael craned his neck. ‘Does look like there’s money to be made in bourbon.’

  Jill glanced at her watch and jumped out of the car. ‘We’d better hurry to buy our tickets. The last tour starts in fifteen minutes.’

  With tickets in hand, they followed a group into a high-ceilinged, oak-paneled room with heavy dark furniture and dozens of oil paintings. The stony faces of the well-dressed ancestors of the owners – the Shelby family, according to the nameplates – stared down on them.

  ‘The Shelbys don’t look like a pack of unschooled moonshiners to me,’ Michael said next to her ear.

  Before she could reply, a door in the paneling opened and a dark-haired man with high cheekbones entered. As he scanned the crowd, his gaze stopped on her. Jill’s breath caught in her throat. ‘And he doesn’t look like any tour guide I’ve ever seen,’ she whispered back, eliciting a smile from a woman with three little girls standing nearby.

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,’ said the drop-dead gorgeous man. ‘I’m Jamie Shelby, son of the seventh-generation master distiller here at Founder’s Reserve. Since our regular guide called in sick, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me today.’

  Murmurs ran through the crowd. ‘Called out the big guns, eh?’ shouted someone from the back. ‘We’re in luck.’

  Jamie Shelby unbuttoned his sport coat. ‘For the next ninety minutes, the tour will be informal, so feel free to ask any question you like.’

  ‘Do I have permission to videotape the tour?’ Michael hefted his equipment bag to his shoulder.

  The corners of Shelby’s mouth turned down. ‘You may shoot video in this room and the next and anywhere on the grounds, but not in the grain mixing or distillation areas. Sorry, but some of the processes you’ll see are proprietary.’

  Jill held up her hand. ‘Am I allowed to take notes, Mr Shelby? I’m writing a piece on the Kentucky bourbon tours for several travel websites.’

  ‘Of course. Founder’s Reserve is honored to be included in your article. And please, call me Jamie.’ Shelby offered a magnificent smile.

  The youngest of the woman’s three daughters raised her hand. ‘Mister Jamie, do you want to be a mast’r distill’r someday?’
she asked.

  The creases around his eyes deepened as Jamie bent down to the child’s level. ‘Becoming the master distiller is my fondest dream, so I plan to work and study hard, just like you do in school. At the end of the tour I have something special for you while the adults sample our bourbon – fresh buttermilk and molasses cookies to eat during my final story and a bag of popcorn to take home.’ He straightened to his full height. ‘Who knows why I’m giving away corn today?’

  The oldest daughter volunteered an answer. ‘Because it’s the main ingredient used in making bourbon?’

  ‘Correct. We use only non-GMO corn, locally grown for Founder’s Reserve. Now let’s step into the next room to learn what other ingredients go into bourbon.’

  ‘Shelby sure knows how to work a crowd,’ Michael murmured as the group filed through the doorway.

  ‘Maybe this isn’t his first tour,’ she hissed under her breath. ‘I think Mr Shelby is very nice.’

  While her partner hung back to shoot video, Jill joined the group at a display of recently harvested and milled rye and barley. While Jamie explained the constant need for new oak barrels and why limestone wells were used for their water supply, Michael hovered in the back of the room, waiting to video the displays after the crowd moved on.

  Jill took plenty of notes during Shelby’s tour and asked almost as many questions as the three little girls.

  Michael finally caught up to the group in the distillation room. Thankfully, he’d stowed his video camera. ‘What’s going on in here?’

  ‘They’re cooking the grain mash until the liquid evaporates,’ she said. ‘What took you so long? Did you get any footage?’

  He nodded. ‘Some, but I don’t understand how these processes can be proprietary if anyone can buy a ticket.’

  Jill cringed, fearing Jamie might have overheard the comment. ‘Behave,’ she warned. ‘Or you’ll be sitting in a hot car.’

  By the time they reached a cavernous warehouse, stacked high with oak barrels, most of the tourists looked tired and moved through the room quickly.

  ‘Exactly how long does bourbon take to age?’ Jill asked at the end of a row of barrels.

  ‘There is no exactness to this stage, my lovely travel writer,’ Jamie answered with a smile. ‘Bourbon must age for a minimum of two years. After that, the master distiller tastes the barrels once a year. Upon his command, the batch is poured, filtered, and then bottled.’

  ‘Your father has a huge responsibility.’

  ‘He does, indeed.’ Jamie’s gaze drifted over Jill’s head. ‘I seem to be losing my guests’ attention. Let’s move to our final stop – the tasting room. Afterwards, I’ll answer your questions all night. In fact, nothing would please me more.’ He opened the double doors into a lounge with comfortable sofas and chairs. ‘After you, Miss …’

  ‘It’s Jill. And I would appreciate that.’ Although I’m not sure my partner would.

  Once the adults had samples of bourbon and the girls had glasses of buttermilk, Jamie moved a stool to the center of the room. ‘Now for the story I promised.’ He waited for everyone to quiet down before he began.

  ‘A long time ago, Waddie Boone – kinfolk to Daniel – started the first bourbon distillery in Kentucky. Isaiah Shelby grew corn north of the creek, while Tobias Cook – ancestor to the Clarks in this area – grew corn on the south side. Both farmers did quite well until one day a flood changed the course of the river. A big chunk of land that once belonged to the Cook farms now belonged to the Shelbys. My ancestor, Isaiah, said the sixty fertile acres were a gift from God. Tobias said nothing doing and crossed the creek with his sons to continue farming. This started a two-hundred-year feud that still continues today. Do you know what two things were always at the heart of their disagreements?’ Jamie scanned the crowd, waiting for an answer.

  ‘Bourbon,’ said a voice in the back.

  ‘Yep, that’s one. What do you think is the other? Here’s a hint: it seems to be at the heart of every book and movie ever made.’ The future master distiller stared at Jill.

  She swallowed a sip of bourbon. ‘My guess would be romantic entanglements.’

  ‘Exactly right. Love might make the world go round, but it has fueled plenty of high drama in these parts, including a few duels at dawn.’ Jamie slipped off the stool and bowed to the audience. ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for visiting Founder’s Reserve, and for being so patient with me. Through those doors is our gift shop and retail store.’ He gestured to the right. ‘Please come and see us again.’

  Everyone in the group clapped, while a few men shook Jamie’s hand. Jill remained behind so Michael could shoot video in the sampling room.

  After the last tourist exited, Jamie returned to Jill’s side. ‘I’m all yours. Why don’t you ask your questions on the patio over a glass of our special reserve? I can have the hospitality manager send down a cheese and fruit tray.’

  She laughed. ‘Sounds lovely, but I can’t. I rode with my videographer today.’

  Color flooded Jamie’s already-tanned cheeks. ‘I meant the invitation for both of you.’

  Jill covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Of course, you did.’

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Michael, switching off his camera.

  ‘I would like you and Jill to join me on the patio for a bite to eat and a taste of something special. Jill has a few more questions.’

  Michael pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘Sounds great, but all that grain in the mixing room aggravated my allergies. I’ve got one nasty headache.’

  ‘Can’t you take a couple of ibuprofen?’ Jill dug in her purse for the pill container. ‘This is my once-in-a-lifetime chance to interview an eighth-generation master.’

  ‘No, ibuprofen won’t work. I need to take Benadryl and lie down.’

  Jamie rubbed his jawline where a dark shadow had appeared. ‘Are you sure you can drive?’ he asked Michael.

  ‘Yeah, I didn’t drink the sample even though I wanted to. Alcohol would make my headache worse.’

  ‘In that case, why don’t I drive Jill back after we finish the interview? I’d love to get out of here for a while.’

  Jill stopped looking for pills. ‘No, I couldn’t let you. Our hotel is in Roseville.’

  Jamie grinned. ‘That’s not even thirty miles away – no big deal to those who live in the boondocks. Unless you don’t trust me …’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Anyone who can handle kids as well as you couldn’t possibly be a serial killer. If it’s OK with my partner, I accept the invitation.’ Both of them focused on Michael.

  ‘Of course it’s OK,’ he answered. ‘But if you’re not back in a few hours, I’m calling the sheriff.’

  Jill laughed – but Jamie? Not so much as a chuckle.

  ‘Let me lock up here and send a text to my hospitality manager. Why don’t I meet you out front?’

  ‘Great, Michael still needs to video the entrance and façade of the building.’ Jill led the way through the gift shop.

  ‘Do you really think this is a good idea?’ Michael asked once they were alone. ‘Haven’t you had enough excitement for one day?’

  Gritting her teeth, she plopped down on a stone bench. ‘Like I said, this is my big chance for a one-on-one interview. Please, go shoot video while I finish my notes.’

  When their host rejoined them fifteen minutes later, Michael was back from shooting the footage. Jamie extended his hand to Michael. ‘Thanks for choosing Founder’s Reserve today, Mike. And regarding your question about proprietary processes, our ticket sellers are trained to recognize other distillers. They would politely decline admission to our competitors. Bourbon is taken seriously in this state.’

  So he had overheard Michael.

  After her red-faced partner climbed into his car and drove away, Jamie offered her an elbow. ‘I have the perfect spot for your interview.’

  Jill linked her arm through his and Jamie escorted her to a multi-level terrace that overlooked a pond, gazebo,
and manicured lawn straight out of a F. Scott Fitzgerald novel.

  ‘What a lovely spot for a wedding,’ she murmured.

  ‘Glad you think so, as that’s how we usually use the terrace. With the sun starting to set the deck might still be too hot, so why don’t we sit under the arbor?’ Jamie pointed at a bistro table and two chairs in the shade. A wrought-iron trellis covered in wisteria vines blocked the sun and provided complete privacy. Two snifters, a fancy decanter, and a tray of fruit and cheese waited for them.

  Unnerved by how fast Jamie had organized the rendezvous, Jill pulled out her notebook and fired off a question the moment she sat down. Only after Jamie’s third answer did she relax enough to eat a few grapes and a sliver of cheese. After his fifth detailed response without a hint of impropriety, Jill took a sip of bourbon. By the time she finished the glass, she’d jotted down more than enough background information.

  ‘Well, that should do it. Thanks,’ she said, tucking away her notebook. Then she noticed he hadn’t touched his drink. ‘Sorry, do you need more time?’ She pointed at his glass.

  ‘I’ll enjoy mine after I take you back to Roseville. Are you ready? We don’t want to worry your boyfriend.’

  ‘Michael isn’t my boyfriend,’ she corrected. ‘He’s a work colleague and friend.’

  ‘Nevertheless, we don’t want him summoning the National Guard.’

  As Jill pushed to her feet, a wave of light-headedness swept over her. ‘Uh-oh, I should have eaten more from the tray.’

  Jamie offered his arm. ‘Would you like to hang onto me?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine, but shouldn’t we clean up our mess?’

  ‘I have staff to take care of it.’ Taking a firm grip on her arm, he led her to his car parked at the side of the building.

  His assertive manner disconcerted her, but their conversation about college basketball and the ubiquitous weather helped her relax during the drive.

  Halfway to Roseville, Jamie’s phone rang. ‘Sorry, but I need to take this,’ he said after glancing at the display. ‘Our head of public relations wouldn’t call unless it was urgent. Good evening, Deanne. You’re on speaker in my car.’