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Okay, this is a good sign. I won’t have to trek across half of the muddy English countryside while working here if she wears shoes like that to work.
“It’s a hundred acres. Most of it is forest and fields. The main distillery and offices are all close together, though, so you’ll spend most of your time there. Of course, if you fancied some time away for yourself, then feel free to take one of the fleet cars.”
“Oh, okay, thanks,” I say as we approach another gleaming silver Range Rover with the estate’s logo on. It unlocks without Jasmin pressing the remote. They must keep Range Rover in business.
“Don’t mention it. It’s fine,” Jasmin says as we climb in and she starts the engine. “Although stay on the estate if you don’t have a license. We don’t need the police visiting.” The smile drops from her face momentarily.
“I can use my US license for a year as a visitor.”
“Oh, great.” She lights up again. “Well, in that case, please make yourself at home. Use whatever you want, go wherever you want. I can take you into town on the weekend if you like. Show you around the area?”
“That sounds great, thanks.”
She breathes out in a rush, her words spilling out. “Honestly, it’s the least we can do. I was so happy to hear you were coming to help us get on top of the accounting. We’ve gotten behind with my brother…” She chews on her bottom lip. “There’s a lot of catching up to do. And you come highly recommended.”
“I—Thank you.”
I take my work seriously, but I’m hardly at a level that warrants Jasmin’s enthusiasm. Harley really must have pulled in the big favors to get me this job.
Either that or my family wanted to get rid of me. I don’t blame them.
Jasmin floors the accelerator. We pass a group of trees and turn onto the estate’s main driveway. At least, that must be what it is, because up ahead is the largest, regal-looking country house I have ever seen, complete with circular driveway and a central fountain shooting water up into the sky like a bouquet of crystal droplets.
“I’ll take you to the distillery and warehouses.” She points to another set of buildings off to the side. It’s obvious they aren’t original, like the main house. But they’ve been constructed in such a way they look like it, with matching sandstone bricks and large white sash windows. “Then we can head into the offices, and you can meet the rest of the team and Dax.”
The next hour I am rendered speechless as I take in the Silver Estate in all its glory. I’ve never been inside an actual distillery before, and the building housing the giant stills was just incredible. Jasmin told me they produce over thirty gins here. But their largest contract is for one called Aunt Iris’s Blend, which originates from California. One I’ve drunk myself on many occasions.
The mention of it makes my stomach clench with a pang of sadness.What are Brett and Mom doing right now?New York is five hours behind us, so they must be sleeping. At least, Mom will be. Brett must be working out. He has a physical therapist who he sees daily, but he still insists on extra workouts by himself to build his strength up since the accident.
I follow Jasmin up the sweeping staircase in the main house where the offices are. We’ve greeted the rest of the team, including Logan, who came with us when Jasmin showed me the orangery—a room with all glass walls and a glass ceiling where they host tasting events. The house is beautiful. It’s kept its internal features like the oak staircase and molding around the ceilings. But the office rooms are modern and bright. Welcoming.
We head up to the second floor where Jasmin shows me my office setup. It’s full of boxes of old paperwork that needs sorting out. A small accounts team does payroll and invoicing downstairs, but she said they need me to go over all the books for the last three years and make sure everything looks okay before I move on to the daily stuff. I have no idea what state things will be in. It could take me weeks. And some things might be a little different with the UK tax and laws, so I need to get my head around that.
The more Jasmin tells me about the role, the more I want to ask what the hell I am doing here. I know it was some favor to Harley through her friend, Maria. But I’ve no doubt there are people better suited.
“Oh, damn, he’s not here,” she says as we walk into another large office space, one with views from the window over the sweeping driveway and fountain. “His car is outside…” She pauses, her brow wrinkling before she spins and heads toward the door. “Relax, Rose, grab a drink.” She points to a sideboard set up with a fancy coffee maker. “I’ll go find Dax and then you’ll have met everybody.”
She’s gone before I can protest. It doesn’t feel right making myself at home in my new boss's office and using his coffee machine. What if he’s one of those uptight stuffy suits that doesn’t like his things touched?
Every piece of furniture is positioned with precision. There’s even a giant tropical fish tank with sparkling glass sides.
Yep, definitely a stuffy businessman.
I walk over to a high-backed chair set facing the window. Everything else in the room is set up for business. Cold and detached. But this chair feels different. For a start, it’s alone. No matching partner. It’s angled perfectly to see all the way out of the window and across the grounds. The old leather seat is worn and depressed in the center as if it’s spent many hours being a comfortable haven for someone.
Even though it feels like I’m invading Mr. Silver’s privacy, I sink into the chair, letting out a deep sigh as it welcomes me like an old friend.
I rest my head against the high back and cross my legs as I gaze out the window.
The view is incredible. The cottage I’m staying in is even visible, peeking out from behind the trees.
Approaching footsteps outside have me ready to spring to my feet. But something in the deep growl that’s with them has my ass gluing itself firmly in place.
“You just need to be there…. It’s guys we’ve used before.”
The owner of the growl lets out a frustrated sigh, and I picture him sitting in this chair. It’s the perfect place to sit and calm the anger so heavily seeped into his voice.
This is awkward. The chair shields me from his view, but I should get up. It’s got to be Mr. Silver. And he’s about to find me hiding in his office, eavesdropping on a private conversation.
