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When the run began putting out the spirit, Jamie drew a small sample and handed it to her.
She smelled it before tasting. The young spirit rose hot from the cup, but underneath the alcohol she found honey, grain, green orchard fruit, and that restrained smoke she’d already begun associating with Glenbrae. She tasted it and frowned.
Jamie had caught her expression. “What?”
She tasted it again. The body had thinned, and the alcohol sat differently against her tongue, sharper at the edges rather than warming through the center.
“This isn’t the same sample.”
The freckled man near the receiver suddenly became fascinated by a barrel hoop as Jamie’s gaze moved toward him.
“It came from the run,” the man said.
Olivia held the cup toward the light, though she already knew what had happened. “You added water.”
“I didna.”
Alasdair stopped working.
“You diluted it.”
The man’s ears reddened. “Only a wee bit.”
Jamie bowed his head, and Olivia saw his shoulders twitch.
She ignored him. “Why?”
“To see if ye’d ken.” The young man muttered something under his breath.
“Finlay.” Alasdair frowned at the man.
Then she caught another word. Witchcraft.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You sanctimonious codfish.”
The laughter finally broke free from Jamie.
Alasdair took the diluted cup as Jamie drew another sample directly from the run and handed him the cup.
Alasdair tasted both before looking at Finlay. “She’s right.”
Finlay looked betrayed.
“About the water,” Alasdair added. “I’ll no’ involve myself in the fish.”
Jamie laughed again.
Afterward, Alasdair began handing her samples without looking toward Jamie first. Finlay stopped smirking every time she asked a question. One of the boys showed her where the spring water entered the shed, and Ewan arrived later carrying cask hoops and answered her questions about how they transported the spirit over the wet Highland tracks.
Olivia named what she smelled, and they explained what they did. Sometimes her language fit their experience and sometimes it didn’t, so she tried again until they understood one another.
These men carried generations of knowledge in their hands, noses, memories, and habits, while Olivia had the advantage of modern vocabulary and training that helped her connect the details.
Fermentation affected fruit. Peat altered the smoke. Rain changed the water. Timing changed the cut. Wood would change everything again later.
Piece by piece, the profile began taking shape.
A few hours later, she and Alasdair were bent over the same ferment arguing about whether the green-apple character would survive distillation when he called across the room.
