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The end of my time with McAlister’s of Gallanach was fast approaching. And that meant Stuart and I could be together. I’d avoided working out details of how we would see each other so far apart.
Stuart had been so insistent and confident he wouldn’t hurt me. But I needed a plan of how we would do this. To give us the best chance of making it as a couple. Being hurt before was hindering me giving us that chance. And I wanted that chance.
“When you’re back, I’d like to talk.” I whispered. “Not about the audit. I mean about us.”
“Ye two are the worst kept secret in Oban.” Caroline said, rolling her eyes. “And that’s saying something in a wee town like ours.”
“I’d talk to ye tonight if I could, but the lodge is in a notorious black spot for mobile coverage,” Stuart grinned. “But we’ll talk as soon as I’m back.”
The three of us worked late into the early hours of morning. Stuart left after lunch on Monday, rushing into my office for a kiss and promising he’d miss me.
Caroline and I kept working late on Monday night surrounded by reports, files and binders. Stuart texted that he arrived safe and sound but my texts back wouldn’t deliver. On Tuesday lunch time, Caroline and I found the breadcrumb trail that showed how someone had stolen from Gallanach, right under everyone’s noses. We watched our document emerge from the printer, page by page as we celebrated with a generous pouring of Stuart’s whisky.
I hit send on an email to Stuart with our hard work attached, and waited.
I texted him several times to check his emails and no reply.
But by evening, I still hadn’t heard back. I was driving Caroline crazy, pacing in front of her desk, worried he was dying in a ditch somewhere. She’d just picked up her phone to call him for the third time when she received a weather alert by text saying a snowstorm was expected in the Highlands, resulting in roads cut and black ice.
“Well, that’s a bit shit. He’s not driving back tonight, but Stuart will be alright, love.” Caroline assured me. “Let him read your report while he spends an extra night at the lodge. We can deal with getting CCTV footage in the morning, too. You go get some need rest. I’ll soon be out of here as well.”
“Yes, of course.” I shook myself. “Three hours of sleep and I’m not thinking straight.”
“I’m sure he’s resting in that lodge, wishing he could talk to ye.”
I left Caroline to shut down her computer. Later as I slipped into bed, I just couldn’t help but think that what should be a celebration felt like a bad omen.
* * *
Stuart
The hotel rep hadn’t just liked my whisky - they’d gushed over it, comparing it to some of the top distilleries in the world.Bold new flavours from the sourced sherry oak casks,she’d said.Will be a hit when it’s released.
I grinned, keen to ask Robert to go over the contract to supply them with a seven-year-old single malt in the initial instance, as well as to carry our older single malts as well. If we expanded our storage, we could age my whisky longer. A twelve-year-old version would be great.
We’d done it; me and my brothers, my mother in the Visitor’s Centre, and my father, whose eye for quality in our traditional whiskies was superb.
We’ve bickered and had our differences, but we made an excellent dram.
“Oh, hey now!” The hotel manager pulled me out of my reverie as he bustled down the hallway. “Snowstorm built up very quickly and is almost upon us!”
Luckily, I’d already parked my car in the hotel’s garage. Less than fifteen minutes later, the wind was roaring around the lodge, hurling drifts of snow.
This wasn’t good. A weather alert and several texts pinged on my phone.
Black ice and snow on the roads. Seek shelter and get vehicles undercover. I swore. I wasn’t leaving tonight.
I checked my texts and grinned. Amanda asking me to check my emails about the audit.
As I logged into my laptop, my eyes went immediately to the open spreadsheet I hadn’t had a chance to finish our personal spreadsheet.
Later. First, a thief.
The hotel’s Wi-Fi kept dropping out. The lights even dimmed at one point but finally her email downloaded. I found myself staring at proof that someone was stealing from us. Amanda and Caroline had even correlated missing stock with staff roster files from our archives. But the bombshell was swipe card data.
Apparently, I’d recently accessed the warehouse, but I’d lost my swipe card by that date. I also knew, due to our personal spreadsheet, I’d been with Amanda at the time I allegedly had been in the warehouse. The key for the lock on the small safe where we kept the labels was also on the keyring with my swipe card. I hadn’t seen that key since my swipe card went missing.
Caroline had included a note on the spreadsheet to say she had ordered new swipe cards to replace lost ones for six employees in the last year alone.
