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Amanda shook herself and sat down, smoothing her skirt. “What I’m saying is I've seen the numbers. The story behind them is your sons are a powerful team despite the challenges.”
I squeezed her hand under the tablecloth, grateful for her support.
Old Mac pointed at me, determined to have his point made. “Ye not committed. Ye gallivanting around with other businesses!”
“Mort, for goodness sake,” my mother muttered.
“No.” My voice echoed off the stone walls of my grandmother's house.
“That's all ye have to say?” my father’s voice was a harsh whisper.
“That's right. No.” I took a deep breath. “Ye want me to do my job just like ye did. But I’m not like ye, nor do I believe I should continue to lead the company the same way as ye. Gallanach needs a different leader, someone who can get more of our product behind the bar here in the UK and beyond.”
I looked at Robert. “Someone with the right skills and temperament. The son who was born first is not always the right one for the job.”
“Gallanach has always had a first born McAlister as its leader!”
“Nonsense, Da! For centuries, McAlisters have had uncles, brothers, even cousins run the place.”
“Ye know that, Mort." Gran piped up. “When I was a wee girl in school, it was my great uncle in charge. Ye remember that.”
“Someone once told me,” I looked to Robert again, “ye need to do something new to start a tradition.”
Robert gave me a small nod.
“Amanda's right. We are a damn great team.” I looked between James and Robert. “And Da, you’re not our boss. You're our father. We're doing a damn fine job, even if it's different to how ye did it.”
Everyone was quiet. Mort stared at his plate.
“This was meant to be a nice family meal!” Gran looked around the table.
“But…” Amanda mumbled. “Barley.”
“Excuse me, lassie,” Gran narrowed her eyes at Amanda. “We’re having a roast.”
“But…” Amanda straightened and turned to me. “The only time you’ve had to destroy stock was the tainted barrel of your whisky.”
“Aye, you’re right,” I nodded.
“We’ve always put off reviewing how we do inventory due to operational reasons always cropping up,” Robert said.
“For the last four years, barley prices also went up but you also bought more each year.” Amanda looked between me and Robert. “To put it simply, you should have more whisky to sell. But you don’t.”
Robert frowned, and nodded. “We needed that inventory software, Da. I told ye at the time the manual system wasn’t good enough.”
“So ye blaming me too?” My father’s jowls quivered.
“No, Da. No one is blaming ye,” I leaned forward, looking him in the eye. “What we’re saying is we’re finally understanding what is going wrong.”
James sat up straighter. “But what about the boiler issues?”
“Da didn’t have any issues with the boilers in his last two years,” I answered.
Amanda nodded, her hand hovering in the air as if pressing keys on a calculator. “I think the missing money is an actual loss, not an error or fraud. Like, theft.”
“Ye onto something,” Robert murmured. “We are looking at the wrong numbers.”
“I’ve got a roast going cold while the lot of ye are bletherin’ on about work!” Maisie bawled. “And I made me own stuffing with sage from the garden. Even made the breadcrumbs myself.”
