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“But you just said…”
“I said we tinkered with the recipe while he was my partner. But I kept perfecting it, even after I bought him out.”
“You bought him out as your partner?”
“Still got the paperwork in my safe-deposit box at the bank.”
“That’s good. You have proof.” Blake heaved a sigh of relief.
“Why do I need it?” His grandfather raised a wiry, white brow.
“Because Martin’s got it in his head that half of King’s Finest should be his. That’s why Savannah came to work for us. To find proof that her family should be part owners.”
The old man averted his eyes and grimaced.
“What is it, Granddad?” Blake gripped his grandfather’s wrist and the old man shifted his gaze to him. “Like you said, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We always do.”
Joseph Abbott groaned and sank down on the sofa again. He dragged a hand across his forehead.
“By the time I was twenty-one, I got tired of Martin trying to boss me around. The business had belonged to my father, and I wanted it back.”
“So you bought him out.”
His grandfather nodded. “Even as a kid, I dreamed big. But Marty wanted to stick to what we’d always done. I wanted to start a proper distillery. Become a respectable citizen with no need to dodge the law. Martin had no interest in doing that.”
“If you bought him out fair and square, he has no claim,” Blake pointed out.
“True.” His grandfather’s voice lacked conviction. “But I wasn’t very fair to him, either.” He lowered his gaze. “He was a heavy gambler, and I knew he’d go for a lump-sum payout, despite it being less than half of what was probably fair at the time.”
His grandfather ran a hand over the smooth skin of his head. “Always felt bad about that. Especially after he gambled most of it away. Got in debt to some pretty shady characters. He and his wife left town in the dead of the night. Haven’t heard from him since.”
“If you felt so bad, why’d you…?” Blake stopped short of using the word cheat. “Why’d you shortchange him?”
“Didn’t have enough saved to buy him out at a fair price. Not if I was going to buy my building, get new equipment and hire workers. I used his vice against him. It’s not one of my prouder moments, son.”
“So Martin was aware you wanted to start a legal distillery?”
“Like I said, he didn’t have the vision his granddaughter has. Martin thought it was a terrible idea. He expected the venture to go up in flames, as it had for a few other moonshiners who’d tried to take their business legit.”
“So he made a choice.” Blake needed to believe his grandfather was the upstanding man he’d always thought him to be. That he hadn’t wronged Savannah’s grandfather. Joseph Abbott had always been his hero. Even more than his own father.
“He did. And when he signed the contract, he relinquished everything. Including the right to take up a similar business in the state for at least fifty years.”
The answer to the question he’d posed to Savannah earlier. Why now?
“So legally, he has no claim to King’s Finest.”
“No. Got myself a damn good lawyer to draw up that contract.” His grandfather’s voice was faint and there was a faraway look in his eye. “It’s airtight.”
“But?”
“But I do feel I owe him something. I was a young man making gobs of money. I got a little bit full of myself, and I wasn’t as fair as I should’ve been to Marty after everything he’d done for me.” His grandfather rubbed his chin. “We certainly wouldn’t be what we are today without him.”
“But technically, Martin sold all of the recipes, all of the processes to you.”
“Legally, yes.” His grandfather nodded. “Morally… I’ve always felt like I gave the guy a raw deal.”
“There’s something else you need to know.” Blake sighed. “Savannah…she… I mean, we…”
“Go on, son.” His grandfather prodded. “At this rate, I’ll be called home before you get the first sentence out.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“And you’re the father, I assume.”
“Yes.” The word was a harsh whisper.
“Sounds like we both need a drink.” His grandfather moved to the bar and poured two glasses of their top-shelf bourbon. The same drink Blake had shared with Savannah the night of the storm. Joseph handed him a glass and returned to the sofa.
“Congratulations are in order, I suppose.” His grandfather sipped his bourbon.
