The MacMillan Distillery was our biggest client and the first one we’d landed after leaving Empire. A small-scale distillery specializing in rum, it was exactly the kind of place David and I wanted to focus on at Bespoke Beverages—local, with a focus on flavor and creativity.
Jeff and Julie MacMillan were an energetic couple in their late fifties. Jeff had been a carpenter in his previous life but a lover of liquor for longer. After Julie suffered a health scare ten years prior, he’d decided to stop waiting and finally do something he loved.
A sentiment I could get behind.
I smiled as I stepped into the open warehouse, the air filled with the smell of oak and yeast.
“Audrey! You’re here!” Julie’s voice called out across the floor as she moved towards me, catching me in a tight hug.
I really loved my job.
“Julie, how are you?”
“Wonderful. Thank you again for coming all the way out here to see us.” She said as if a twenty-minute car ride from the city was a burden.
“Of course, you know I wouldn’t make you and Jeff trek into the city. And I like the drive.” Jeff had made it abundantly clear he hated the city, which meant meetings were onsite instead of the office.
“How you put up with all that I’ll never know, but we do appreciate it. Now come, can I get you a drink?” She herded me into the small office tucked in the back, Jeff nowhere to be seen.
“Yes, thank you. Just some water.”
“Alright. I’ll go find Jeff while I’m at it.” She flashed me another warm smile, then journeyed back to the warehouse, calling out to Jeff to “get your ass in the office.”
I snorted a laugh in the empty room, then set myself up in a visitor’s chair with my laptop ready.
Jeff hurried into the office moments later, sweaty and out of breath. “Miss Adams, good to see you again.” Jeff dropped unceremoniously into the chair behind the desk and looked at me expectantly.
“You, too, Mr. MacMillan.” We sat in mildly awkward silence as we waited for Julie to return.
Thankfully, the wait was short. “Here you go, hun.” I nodded in thanks as I took the glass of water from Julie and waited as she made herself comfortable before beginning. I was here with a proposal, after all.
“So firstly, thank you for letting me come by today. I know how busy you both are, so I won’t take up too much of your time. We’ve talked previously about expanding distribution and how we might promote the new style.”
“The dark, yes. It should be ready for transfer from the casks in a few weeks, all things considered.”
“Fantastic. I can’t wait to try some. Now, I’ve already started talking to customers and bars that I know will be a good fit for the new style, but I wanted to suggest a launch event. Something small and tasteful with a mixed guest list of industry professionals and general patrons. It would be a way to build up the brand and generate some good word of mouth. But it would have to be self-funded, and I would need your go-ahead.”
I watched as Jeff considered this, then shared a look with Julie that I was too nervous to decipher. It wasn’t dismissive, but it wasn’t overly enthusiastic either.
“And how much is this going to cost us?” Jeff asked.
Ah. I knew this would be the sticking point. Luckily, I’d come prepared, and I moved to place my laptop on the desk, facing them. “Well, that is entirely up to you. I have some examples here of some events I’ve prepared in the past with itemized budgets so you can see what’s possible.” I paused, giving them a moment to scan the details on the screen. “If you agree, then you tell me what the budget is, and I’ll work within that.”
Jeff sighed, looking conflicted. “If you think it will help in some way, then I’ll consider it, but I’ll need to know more before we can make a decision.”
I nodded with understanding, already filing away some initial ideas that might work.
He continued, sounding apologetic about his reticence. “I can’t deny I’m nervous about this, but I guess we need to trust that you and David know what you’re doing. Say what, send me this,” he pointed to the screen, “so we can look it over, and we’ll get back to you.”
My adrenaline ranout in the early evening, and I surprised myself by clocking out at six p.m., hours earlier than usual since we’d started the company.
Part of the problem was proximity. My apartment was walking distance from the office, and the area wasn’t prone to dangerous encounters, so I could work as late as I wanted and be home in the same amount of time it used to take me to get to the station.
Really the problem was a severe perfectionist streak that meant I found myself working more than was probably wise.
So it was a novelty to leave work before the sun had set.
I headed straight from the office to Tiff’s apartment, knowing she would be eager to get the details about my time with Jackson.
