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I loved hearing her talk about my father. “He gave me my first taste of it.”
“I’m sure he thought he was very cool sneaking you a taste of whisky, beer and wine when you turned sixteen.” Mum briefly frowned, then rolled her eyes. “You usually call when we do dinner on Sunday. Anything wrong, Henny?”
Oh nothing but bar fights, sex with my boss on his desk and calling an ambulance for my boss after we had hot sex.
“No! Nothing at all!” I trilled, wincing. I really wanted to lay it all out but I was not talking about my sudden sex life in front of my brother. “Just wanted to say hi before I got ready for bed.”
“You should be out on the town finding a fella.” Mum caught Ryan’s scowl. “Don’t look at me like that, son. And while I’m at it, you could be out there finding yourself a decent woman.”
Ryan’s eyes flared in terror and turned back to me.
“So, ah, what’s the whisky called, again?”
“Gallanach. And it’s fantastic. They’re located in Oban on the west coast of Scotland.”
“Your Aunty Carol went to Oban in New Zealand on a cruise last year and said it was named after Oban in Scotland. So how’s that, then? She’d love a postcard if you could send one.”
“I’ll do that, Mum.” I re-crossed my legs.Why hadn’t I found new underwear?
“Their whisky any good?” Ryan asked, crunching loudly.
“Their ten-year single malt was fantastic but their five year had the taste of taint.”
“Cork taint? In whisky?”
“Yep, couldn’t mistake it. Some guy tried to tell me that I was wrong, but I knew it was taint.”
Ryan frowned, pointing with his spoon. “Don’t let any prick tell you your taste is off.”
“Ryan! Language!” Mum clicked her tongue at him. He rolled his eyes and continued.
“You’ve got the best palette I know. But don’t let on to Rosie or the rest of the Zanettis I said that. Oh, they released a new Shiraz last week. Gave us a dozen and Rosie said one was specifically for your collection.”
“She messaged me about a surprise, and I haven’t had a chance to reply yet.” I missed my best friend, Rosie, so much. “I should call her this week.”
“Your brother’s right,” Mum said. “How you can taste and smell different things in wine, whisky, even craft beer, I don’t know and never will. I hope he wasn’t rude.”
“He was…” Good looking, demanding, arrogant, a phenomenal lover.
My face turned red. Ryan frowned deeper, raising an eyebrow.
I cleared my throat. “What did you all do for New Years?”
“Same old,” Ryan shrugged. “I worked at the pub until three in the morning, mopping up after a very messy night. Oh, remember Sarah from your grade? She and Benji made out in the beer garden. Tom camped on the escarpment. Stace stayed at home. Speaking of which, here she is.”
Mum stepped out of view as Stacey appeared in the camera. She gave me a small smile. “Hey big sis.”
She put down a wire basket full of eggs.
I grinned. “How’s Chookydoon?” I christened the chicken run ‘Chookydoon’ when I was twelve years old. I’d helped Dad make it and even painted the sign myself.
“Yeah, good,” Stacey said, “and so am I.”
I faltered. “Oh, of course. Good to hear, Stacey.”
“I know the Queen of Spreadsheets misses her chooks.”
“I do, actually.” Talking to Stacey was always strained. Since our father died, she was a closed book. Before that, sibling rivalry had been strong. “Thank you for looking after them, as always.”
