“Yeah, me too.” I drag her to me and plant a kiss on her forehead. Then I brace myself to tell her the rest. “He won’t budge. Turned me down flat. Said he was selling it all to me on or before January 20th or he was selling it all to Steadman, and if I was smart, I’d sell too.”
I swallow hard before I force out the words. “So that’s what I’m doing. I’m taking Steadman’s full offer and closing next month.”
All the color drains from her face. “You’re what?!”
I grip my temples to push back against the pressure. Why does she look so horrified? This really isn’t news. As much as I hate it.
“I’m… taking the Steadman deal.” I gulp down the nausea that rises and clear my throat. “I’m selling.”
Her mouth opens and her lower lip quivers. “H-have you signed anything yet? A contract or—or anything?”
My stomach sinks because now that she’s here, I have to do this. That’s the deal I made with myself.
I clear my throat before answering. “The papers are on the kitchen table.”
Fast as lightning, she snatches me by the collar and yanks me to her. My first thought is she’s going to kiss me hard—some kind of mark of solidarity—but when she drags my face to hers, she’s glaring like a demon.
“HAVE. YOU. SIGNED. THEM?!”
My girl is loud. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard her this loud. It’s almost funny.
But scary as shit too.
Still, I force a chuckle when I say, “No. I was waiting f?—”
“YOU ARE NOT FUCKING SIGNING THEM!” she bellows right in my face.
I swear my teeth rattle.
My ears ring.
Her reaction is the last thing I expect. It makes my next words that much harder to say.
“Hattie, honey. I don’t have a choi?—”
She shoves me. “Yes. You do.” Technically, she’s not yelling, but the words still echo off the cure shed walls. “I’m your choice.”
The urgency in her wide eyes throws me like a mechanical bull. “What ar?—”
“I’M GOING TO BUY IT!”
She’s shouting again. So loud, I wince.
“Honey, you’re hurting my ears?—”
“I’m going to buy it!” she loud-whispers, her hand fisting my collar again and giving me a little shake.
And it’s the shake that finally knocks her words into place.
Sort of.
“Wait… What?”
“I’m going to buy out your uncle,” she says in her normal Hattie-volume voice, just faster than usual. “Well, not just me, but me and your brother-in-law Kennedy and you too if you agree to the plan. We’ll be partners and no one party will be over-leveraged, so the risk won’t be as high and we’ll all have a share—not an equal share of course, but one commensurate with our investments—in the farm’s and ultimately the future distillery profits.”
I reel back, scrambling to make sense of her rapid-fire explanation.
I open my mouth, but I can’t decide which of the two dozen questions should come out first. And Hattie takes my speechless state as a cue to continue.
