“Why didn’t you talk to me?” Melody asks.
I know she’s upset that I didn’t make this decision with her, and I can understand why. “This was a decision I needed to make on my own, and you can be persuasive sometimes.” Surprisingly, Melody’s expression doesn’t change much. She must have been expecting this decision, which shouldn’t be shocking after the first few times we spoke about owning the shop. I told her before I didn’t think I could be within Dad’s shadows every day and still maintain a sense of peace. Never mind giving up my photography career. Maybe she thought the time I took to consider my options would turn out differently than she hoped. “Anyway, Melody and I each own fifty percent of the business. However, my proposal is to sell one percent more to Melody to protect our family’s name. After, I would like to offer you, Mr. Pearson, the remaining forty-nine percent of the business—if you are interested, of course.”
My lungs feel as though they are flat when the last word spills from my mouth. I have had these thoughts bottled up for so long and while I feel relieved, I also feel like I’m drifting away from some pain I’ve been holding onto. I don’t know if it’s okay to do so.
Melody doesn’t appear upset, which is good. I wanted to make this okay for her too.
“I think your idea is brilliant,” Bill says. “I told your father long ago, if the opportunity to merge our businesses ever came up, I would do so in a heartbeat. While it won’t be a technical merge, our businesses can work together to create higher profits—we will keep the Quinn name running strong.”
Hearing Bill’s explanation renews my initial reasons for finding a way to keep the business in our family, but also keep it from dying without a passion it has grown along with.
“Yes, my dad mentioned the possibility to me. The two businesses working together would grow The Barrel House into something bigger, and this means more of my dad’s bourbon will be manufactured and enjoyed. Realizing this made me see why it was important to follow through with my initial thought to sell my share.”
Everyone looks fairly happy with my decision and it’s a relief to know Bill is interested in this plan. If this turned out differently, there were other options that didn’t feel as promising. This is what I was hoping for.
“Well, your father and I always hoped someday our families would come together, and here we are,” Bill continues.
“Families?” I question, spotting Brody out of the corner of my eye. He’s smiling and he shouldn’t be. This has nothing to do with him.
“I meant our businesses,” Bill laughs.
Brody offers a piece of payback with a light kick to my knee under the table. He smirks and mouths the words, “Together, forever.”
I shake my head and respond, mouthing the word, “No.”
8
If tonight couldn’t beany more awkward, everyone is deep in conversation or taking a long romantic walk through the woods—real-world stories of my sister and the love of her life. To each their own, but I’m sitting at the dining room table, alone with Brody. Brett and Brody’s daughters are even occupying themselves.
“So,” Brody says, leaning back in his chair to fold his arms behind his neck.
“You think by staring into my eyes for four minutes, you can make me like you?”
“Huh?” I love that he plays dumb, so well.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, unlock the display to the article I am reading, and slide the device across the table. “How to make her fall for you in four minutes. All you have to do is stare into her eyes,” I recite the first line.
“Why would you think that’s what I was doing?”
His cheeks are blushing red. “I heard what you said about the Monet painting. Something like ... the longer you stare at it, the more clearly you see it, and the more beautiful it becomes. I mixed that with your weird Cyclopes stare in the kitchen and remembered reading something along those lines in an article.”
“Damn, have you always been this smart?”
I release the sound of laughter, minus the look of amusement. “No. Definitely not.”
“Well, you went to a good college and now you have a nice career. So, you couldn’t have been lacking too much intelligence.”
“I didn’t go to college,” I tell him.
“You said—and I heard.”
“You just didn’t un-hear.” I know our parents talk and mingle more than the four kids. It’s the only reason we’ve known bits and pieces of information about each other over the years, but I know Mom and Dad didn’t brag about me opting out of college one month before the start of my freshman year.
“You left the area, though.”
“I did.”
“Okay, I’m obviously missing some major details of your life here, but the only thing I know for sure is, I never saw you again after the night you went chasing after your boyfriend on New Year’s Eve. I tried to find you, even went through our dad’s, but your dad didn’t return my dad’s calls, and I didn’t know what to make of it. So, I figured you were avoiding me at all costs.”
