He kisses my cheek as he walks by me. “Love ya, kiddo,” he whispers. Hearing that from him will never get old.
I move closer to my mother and hit her hip with mine. “Wouldn’t mind your input on this batch too.”
Her head whips to the side to look at me, just as surprised as I am that I’m suggesting it. But this is as much their legacy as it will be mine. “It’s going to be the first official batch of Tennessee whiskey that we’ll eventually put out. I could use another opinion.”
She smiles. “You know I have lots of those.” She waits a beat before whispering, “Thank you.” I’m not sure if it’s for including her or not making a big deal about her and Tommy, but I’ll take it. Tipping her chin toward the cake that was freshly frosted next to her, she says, “Bring that outside for me. I’ll bring out some fresh glasses for a little late-night sipper.”
The cool evening is welcome, my breath just starting to be visible as I step back outside. When I deposit the cake on the picnic table and glance around the yard, I run my fingers along the edges of my leather cuff. I use it often, when I feel overwhelmed or find myself drifting toward a bad memory. It grounds me, much like the man sprawled out on the grass with my nephew folding airplanes.
“Mom, look at this one soar!” Nash yells out to my sister. “Mom, you gotta see the necklace Julian made for me, it’s actually the coolest.” He holds out the black leather chain with his orange-colored rock hanging from the center, trying to look down at it.
Stevie gives him two very enthusiastic thumbs-ups as she walks up next to me. “Is your uterus contracting watching that? A sexy-ass man playing on the ground with a kid and making paper airplanes?”
“Not everyone believes that watching grown men play with kids is attractive,” Jo says, flanking the other side of me. “There is nothing cute about that thought in the least.”
“Bite your tongue, wench. Nash is the cutest human alive,” Stevie barks back.
Jo just looks down at her boots and then raises her eyebrows at her. “What was that?” She cups her hand around her ear. “You’re forfeiting your turn with the Pradas?”
Stevie flips her off. “You’re losing your hearing,” she mumbles with a smirk.
“Oh look, it’s your father-in-law,” Jo says, her voice laced with sarcasm.
“The fuck is he doing still here?” Stevie breathes out. “Should have left by now.”
“Its been a little while since we’ve all had dinner together, maybe he’s digesting,” Birdie interjects, her chin resting on my shoulder. I tip my head to touch hers as her arms wrap around me. “And I believe your husband invited him.”
“Dinner’s been over for a while now,” Stevie says, and it has both Jo and I looking at each other, knowing there’s something going on in that chaotic brain of hers.
“What are we gawking at?” our mom asks, joining the viewing party. She settles a tray of glasses all filled with a shot of something. “You all look like hens on the hunt.”
“Mom, what the hell does that even mean?” Jo deadpans.
“You know, hunting for the cock,” she says nonchalantly.
“Mom!” I screech out and cup my hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh.
“Jesus Christ—” Stevie says with a clipped laugh.
“Lu, are you kidding me?” Jo grumbles.
But she and Birdie just start cackling like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “The three of you girls, my goodness, it’s like nobody has ever heard the wordcockbefore,” Birdie says, catching her breath. “Especially when I know for a fact y’all have enjoyed one a time or two.”
Mom mumbles, “Hopefully, more than two.”
“Oh my god,” I say on an exhale, and my sisters and I exchange the classic side-eye that silently says,Yes, she just said that.
“Alright, you prudes, here,” our mom says, grabbing the glasses she brought out, popping the stopper off the bottle of whiskey that proudly shows the beautiful logo Jo already made. “I didn’t think I’d have you girls together like this. I thank every goddess in the universe that we can all be together.”
Birdie holds up her glass and lifts her chin. She looks at our mother, and they have a wordless exchange, both of their eyes brimming with tears. “To my family, my beautiful girls, my whiskey women, you make me proud every single day.”
Epilogue
Julian
3 months later
I slideacross the black-painted floor on my stool to pull out the design I drafted for this project. It was less than a month after Wyn had officially left her tenured career as a professor when I walked into this building as its official owner. I negotiated the purchase and then drove out to Oregon, packed up my equipment and anything worth holding on to at my place, and put the rest of it on the market. Rumor, Tennessee is home now.
