“Mom made the pie and left us instructions,” Betha stated with open arms.
We were all good cooks in our own way because each of us, including my father, had super-taste and super-smell. We could pick out the faintest herb or spices in foods. It was weird, but at the same time, amazing. Mother let us cook a lot growing up, but now that we were all out of the house, I think she felt it was her duty to take care of us when we were home.
The aroma I could smell wasn’t a dessert. I knew without asking that Betha was talking about bacon and cabbage pie. My mother tended to feed us traditional Irish meals such as Irish stew, corned beef, potato cakes, and bangers and mash. It was a miracle I wasn’t overweight as a kid, but it was probably because I ran so much and, therefore, I could eat whatever I wanted.
Fuck, I really needed to start running again.
“Which, if they followed my instructions, should mean dinner will be ready in ten minutes.” Mother walked toward the kitchen. As she passed my father, he playfully patted her butt, and she rolled her eyes at him.
“I’ll get the salad ready. Calla, you should eat more salad than the pie. It will help you fit into normal pants.”
Ouch.
“Leggings are the new pants,” Betha said, coming to my rescue as we hugged.
I twirled my finger around her dyed golden locks. Blonde looked good on my baby sister. “Let me put my stuff in my room and then I’ll be right there. I’m starving and will probably have seconds.”
The Monday after I arrived, I walked out into the living room just as my dad was leaving for work. “Have a good day at work, Daddy,” I called out.
He turned, leaving the door slightly ajar. “See you at noon. We’ll have lunch, and then you can hand out the checks.”
I grinned. “I would love that.”
I waved goodbye to my father and then went in search of coffee.
At noon sharp, I pulled my mother’s Volvo into the parking lot of the distillery that had been in my family since I was two years old. The sun had risen only a few hours prior, and in just shy of four hours, it would set again. I honestly couldn’t imagine living in the northernmost area of Alaska where they didn’t see the sun for about seventy days, or in the summer when they had over eighty days of daylight. It would drive me insane. Luckily, Burn Falls got more nighttime than that.
As I made my way into the brick building, I waved and said hello to everyone I saw and then went up to my father’s office. When I walked in, I stopped dead in my tracks. Piles and piles of papers littered every surface.
“Dad,” I said with a note of apprehension in my voice.
He looked up, and his grey gaze met my green one. “Sunshine, is it noon already?”
“It is.” I held up a brown paper bag that Mother packed for us. It contained onion soup and soda bread for my dad, and a salad for me. “But what is all this?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck as I looked at my worst career nightmare staring at me.
“I haven’t had a chance to replace Mandy since she retired.”
“But that was six months ago,” I replied, my free hand picking up some of the papers, trying to work out how important they were. Mandy had been my father’s office manager for twenty years before she’d retired.
My dad frowned, taking the papers out of my hand and putting them back down. “It’s been busy, Calla. Since winning the whiskey award this year, and with articles in every national newspaper from here to New York, business has tripled.”
Every year my father entered the World Whiskies Awards. This year, O’Bannion Burn was crowned World’s Best Single Malt, and all the newspapers had run stories about how the whiskey came to fruition which included a photo of my great-grandmother to pay tribute. The whiskey was now in every store and bar in Seattle.
“What about Ted?” I asked, referring to my father’s best friend and right-hand man. His job title was regional sales manager, but he did more than his job duties because of his friendship with my father, and because he was like an uncle to my brother and sister and me.
“He’s been traveling, getting OBB into every bar and liquor store across America. He doesn’t have time for paperwork.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you had all this work? I could have helped over Thanksgiving, or flown in a few times over the past few months.”
Dad shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal. April will be here before you know it.” Just thinking about tax season sent my anxiety through the roof.
“It will be fine.” He took off his glasses and set them on the keyboard of his computer. His black hair that was peppered with grey fell across his forehead.
I rounded the desk and gave him a one arm hug. “After we eat, I’ll help you.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
