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“I’ve been at whisky tastings before where they have denied that their product could be tainted. It’s … good to see that you don’t deny now.”
His face softened. If anything, he looked sad and a little pissed off.
“The whisky tasted just fine at the distillery before we bottled some for the tasting. More than fine - it was amazing. We’ve been investigating what went wrong but…” He scratched his chin. “The boiler on the second pot still hasn’t been maintaining a constant temperature for the last two days. It’s been a problem for months.”
“And what about the oak cask? Or perhaps a pallet it was stored on? Could either of these have been wet?”
“How did ye -”
“I’ve been around wineries my whole life. Cork taint was always a concern with the bottled wine just as a wet oak barrel infected by the taint fungus will affect the wine.”
“The cask we’d bottled from had been sitting on a wet pallet.” Stuart nodded. “We reckon the taint came from the pallet and had just infected the cask but wasnae evident when we tasted. By the time we got tae George’s, the taint had well and truly grown in the bottle. It’s never happened before in my time with the distillery, nor in my father’s.”
I tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “I’m glad to hear you found the source.”
“We destroyed the cask and the pallet and we’re monitoring for any further outbreaks of the fungus.” He inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry I doubted ye at George’s that night.”
I blushed under Stuart’s intense stare.
He swooped down and grabbed my luggage handle. “We should probably get going.”
I followed him, and my suitcase, outside.
“Look, I -”
“About before -”
We both stopped. Stuart cleared his throat.
“If I had known who ye are, I would never had done what we…or said…I’m a professional, okay?”
“For the record, I am most definitely a professional, too. I’ll have you know I had no idea who you were. Nor do I not meet new clients like that when I start a job.”
In that moment, the grey clouds parted, and weak sunshine streamed down on Oban, making it glow. The crest of gentle waves sparkled in the town’s harbour and I was filled with nostalgia for home in that moment.
“When we used to go to the beach for holidays, Mum told us kids the light on the waves were fairies.”
I slammed my mouth shut, instantly feeling foolish, the wind catching my hair and whipping it around my face. Stuart eventually waved to his left.
“Distillery is just up there on the harbour. Takes longer tae drive than walk. And it seems ye’ve brought the sunshine wit ye,” he murmured, a hint of wonder in his tone as he took in the harbour, and the town, bathed in sunlight.
“All I brought with me are spreadsheets and pens,” I replied. “I can’t claim any credit for the sun. But, it would be a shame not to take advantage of it.”
Stuart took several steps ahead of me with my suitcase trundling behind him.
“Hang on!” I called, diving into my handbag. “Wait!”
He stopped and turned with a sigh. “What?”
I walked to him slowly, searching my handbag for exactly what I needed, as my bun came loose.
I scooped it from my face and found Stuart gazing at me, his eyes dark. The sun made his dark brown hair glow, showing red and chestnut highlights.
“Lipstick.” His brow furrowed in confusion as I held up a pack of make-up remover wipes. “To clean it off, because, you know...”
A blush bloomed on his cheeks, a similar shade to my lipstick.
“Christ.” He huffed an embarrassed laugh as he took a wipe. “Thank ye.”
