“I want this hat!” Hannah brandished a rust-colored Copper Summit ball cap.
“Ooh, I want the candy.” Bethany squished her face against a glass display of bourbon-flavored chocolates.
June nudged my arm. “I hope you brought your wallet, Hot Mountain Daddy.”
Wynter appeared around a display of squat glasses. “I hear we’re giving a special tour for two special girls.”
“We’re so excited!” Summer was right behind Wynter. “We love visitors.”
The tour started. Hannah slipped her hand into June’s, and June led them into the area with the tanks.
“Remember those yeast farts I told you about?” June lifted Hannah to look inside. I did the same with Bethany. A brownish liquid filled the inside and bubbles were scattered across the top. Some were popping and a fruity, bread-like smell filled my nose. “These are the mash tanks, and one way we know the yeast is working is when they create bubbles.”
After the girls got their fill and giggled a ton, June led us through the giant copper and steel stills.
Teller rounded a tank and nodded at his sisters and the kids. He stopped by me. “We charge extra for after-hours tours.”
“June gave me the family and friends discount.”
His expression turned appraising. “You’re one of those?”
No, dammit. “Something like that.”
Tenor approached us. He hunched his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his jeans. The guy had always beenan odd mix of frumpy nerd and rugged cowboy, and most of the time it seemed like each personality was at war with itself. His baggy Copper Summit polo hung off his broad shoulders and fell to past his zipper. Had I ever seen him tuck in a shirt? Even his jeans were looser than most men wore theirs, but the amount of work he did was reflected in his scuffed cowboy boots.
He pushed his dark-framed glasses up his nose. “Hey, Rhys. Glad you could bring the kids.”
He was the youngest of the Bailey brothers, but he was also the tallest. His height could be intimidating, but the slouch added an air of harmlessness, although I’d never discounted Tenor’s strength.
“Hey, Junie,” Teller called, interrupting her discussing how the vapors collect and go through another distillation process. “You gotta take them to the barrelhouse.”
“Would you like to lead the tour, Teller?” June asked archly.
“Nah, you’re doing fine.” He grinned. “If you need a job, we can hire you.”
June and her sisters rolled their eyes while the girls giggled.
“All right,” June said. “Let’s go to the barrelhouse before we go through the packaging area.”
“We’ll wait in here,” Summer said. “Wynter and I want to get a goody package ready for each of them.”
“Make Rhys one too,” June said, shooting me a sly grin. “He’s been a good boy.”
I narrowed my eyes on her, but appreciation for June’s family filled me like a balloon. My family was tight-knit, but it was small. My kids had friends, but with my job, we were homebound a lot. They had Wren for a grandparent but a mom who was rarely around. Noaunts or uncles. Our life was quiet and sometimes I wondered if that was truly the best for them.
June’s brothers took the lead, and we wove through the packaging area and out an exit at the far end of the distillery. The comforting smell of warm grain filled the air. They dried the mash behind the distillery before feeding it to their cattle.
Windows broke up the squat, rectangular barrelhouse at regular intervals. Unlike the work of art the distillery had been polished into, the wooden barrelhouse looked like it was made to do nothing but work.
Teller walked backward as he addressed the girls. “You’d never look at this and think there’re millions of dollars sitting on racks inside.”
Tenor opened the small side door for us and we wandered in. Wooden support beams formed racks from one end of the barrelhouse to the other. There was enough space between the rows to fit a forklift and allow it to maneuver, and each column was stacked four barrels high. The smell of grains was overtaken by the pleasing scent of old wood and musty dry air with a nice undercurrent of bourbon—the angel’s share that evaporated out of the oak barrels.
“It’s so quiet,” Bethany whispered.
“Most of the time.” Teller took over the tour, and Tenor followed, answering random questions that Bethany and Hannah asked. “When the forklifts are going and the guys are talking, it can get a little noisy.”
June fell in step with me. “I’m glad you brought them.”
