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Mal: I’m happy you are so excited about this place. Kier would be proud of you.
Three dots appeared on her end, then disappeared. I wanted so badly to turn and read her expression, but she was correct about the text message thing, I felt more confident conversing with her that way, so I did.
Mal: Have you set a date for the tasting?
Unknown number: Two weeks on Friday
Unknown number: I’m making an invite as we speak. Heather secured access to the online village bulletin board so I can post it there.
Mal: That’s a thing?
Unknown number: Apparently so. And harder to get into than the Oscars.
Mal: If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.
Unknown number: Well…
She paused.
Mal: What, princess?
Unknown number: I was hoping we could open one of the forty-nine-year-old casks to sell on the night. Give it an exclusive label and set it at a higher price.
Unknown number: It would be a great way to honour Kier’s work.
Mal: By making a profit?
Unknown number: Exactly!
Those casks were special, could I really just open one up like that? I glanced back to find her eyes already on me, petite features a painting of quiet hope, braced for disappointment. She bit her lip and I knew I was bloody done for.
The distillery and everything in it belonged to her, we both knew it. Yet she’d come to me with this idea, and if I said no, I knew she’d respect that decision. I pocketed my phone and got back to work, unwilling to see the delight on her face as I grunted,“I’ll get to work on it tomorrow.”
April being April let out an ear-piercing squeal, so high-pitched both of the dogs jumped to attention. Her arms circled my waist, barely meeting in the middle, and it was my turn to start. Her soft curves moulded against my back and all I could think was how sweaty I must be.Could she feel it? Did I smell?“You’re the best, grumps.” She spoke the words between my shoulder blades and the skin on every part of my body pebbled.“Thank you, thank you… I won’t let either of you down.”
Click.
Sitting in my favourite armchair, a forgotten bookspreadacross my lap, I stared down at the photo on my phone screen with a vast amount of confusion. It was a blurry photo of two drawings, both of two stick figures drawn by a hasty hand. In the first, they were laying top and tail in a wiggly lined rectangle. In the second, they spooned one another.
I waited. knowing April, she undoubtedly had more to say. Not even thirty seconds later my phone pinged and my heart leapt with it. Over the past few days I’d begun to associate the sound with April. Every time, my heart reacted the same. I was Pavlov’s dog, salivating to the sound of a bell.
Princess: He could totally have fit on the door.
I scrolled back up to the drawings, studying them until it clicked. My head fell back, body shaking with peals of laughter. My vocal cords strained from misuse and Boy popped his head up in his basket, clearly confused by the hacking sound coming from his owner.
Mal: Titanic?
Princess: What else?
Princess: This is daylight robbery! I’ve been robbed, Mal. Robbed of a happy ending!
Princess: JACK COULD HAVE FIT ON THE DAMN DOOR!!!!
Still smiling, I typed back.
Mal: You’ll get over it.
Princess: No I won’t, I’m bereft.
