Page 51 of On The Rocks

“Callum,” she barked. “Focus.”

“Right,” I muttered, giving my head a little shake so I could indeed try to do that. “This way.”

I headed for the kitchen with Maeve right behind me, grabbing a set of keys from a hook close to the rear door that led to the yard and the outbuilding at the back of the bar.

Although we were right on Main Street, there wasn’t a road behind us, which allowed the stores and buildings at the back of the bar to sprawl out further than most. We had a courtyard containing a lean-to for us to park our vehicles under, a temperature-controlled cellar building for us to store all our beers, barrels, and drinks, and the barn that held the distillery that Da and I had built about three years before. It meant all our deliveries never had to hit the front of the building, and we could roll everything in and out easily from the access road at the back and through the rear corridor into the bar.

Still trying to get my mind off my wifey’s beautiful tits, and with a twitching cock, I unlocked the barn and pulled down the bolts in order to open the double doors leading inside. Flicking a switch on the wall, I watched Maeve’s eyes light up as the fluorescent beams brightened the cavernous room.

“This is awesome,” she breathed, her eyes turning to me as she adjusted her glasses. “Does it work?”

“It had better,” I muttered, looking around the huge chrome barrels and vats. “We bought it all new and had it installed, but then Da got sick, and we never used it. It’ll need a quick service just to make sure it’s still running efficiently, but yeah, it should work fine.”

“There’s everything we need,” she declared excitedly, her eyes shining with interest. “You’ve even got a bottling machine.”

I smiled fondly at the memory of my dad buying all this stuff. “Da was thorough, to say the least.”

“Why didn’t you use it before now?” she asked curiously. “It’s such a great setup. You could’ve already been in production for years.”

An ache spread through my chest.

Da’s loss was still so fucking raw. Every memory had so much pain attached to it that I tried to avoid thinking about him. We had so many plans for this place; it gutted me that he’d never see them come to fruition.

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the wave of grief that still took me by surprise. I’d find myself doing mundane, simple things, and suddenly, it would hit me out of nowhere that Da had gone, and I’d feel so fucking hollow and lost.

Something soft touched my hand, and a sweet, flowery scent hit my nostrils.

My eyes snapped open to see Maeve standing close, peering up at me.

“It’s beautiful what you two intended to do with this place, Callum,” she murmured. “Lorcan was larger than life, and I can just imagine you and him with your heads together, discussing all your big, fancy plans.”

The pain in my chest eased slightly as a memory pinged in the back of my mind. “We had huge plans, so we did. Dad wanted to make his own whiskey, too.”

Maeve raised a hand to my nape and squeezed. “He loved his Macallan. Hated the price tag, though. I remember when Lorcan used to tell Paddy he’d only drink the rare stuff on account of his delicate disposition. He’d give me a wink, and I knew he was winding Patrick up just to get to his Macallan reserves.”

“He’d gloat about it.” I smiled. “Thought it was hilarious that he’d gotten one over the big Mafia boss. He’d drink the cheaper stuff alright when he was financing it.”

“One of the canniest men I’ve ever known,” she whispered. “And so smart that some days he’d make me feel dumb.”

Our eyes locked, and I took in the pretty blue, green, and silver swirls. My heart clenched at the emotions coursing through me. There was sadness at losing Da, of course, but I still felt a sense of gratitude that I had Maeve to talk about him with. Ma was still so sad; I didn’t want to make her feel even worse. Tadhg seemed to shrug Da’s death off, and Donny carried so much residual anger that it worried me sometimes.

Admittedly, I was pissed with Da, too, except I was altogether more forgiving than Donovan.

The bar, Maeve, the deal, and the position he’d put me in made me wonder if I ever knew him at all. But now, I was starting to see the method in his madness, and I realized that maybe I needed to trust the process.

“Da loved you,” I stated. “And he would’ve loved this for us.”

Her lip trembled, but she smiled through it. “He loved you more. So much, Callum. I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. I was at the Vatican doing some research and couldn’t get back in time for the funeral, and I’m sad to have missed it. I wish I could’ve been there for you all.”

I lowered my forehead until it rested on Maeve’s, thinking it was funny how a heart could break and knit together at the same time. “You’re here now.”

She beamed up at me. “Yeah, and ready to work.” She pulled away from me and cast a critical eye around the place. “I’ll need a week to work out how to use the equipment. I also need to research recipes and what measures to use. Then we’ll need a month to brew and ferment.”

“That takes us up to the Christmas period,” I mused.

“I need to find supplies and ingredients,” she continued, beginning to pace excitedly. “I need apples and other fruits. I have to research recipes and suppliers and go on the forums to see what works for others and any pitfalls to look out for.” Her feet faltered, and her eyes slid back to mine. “We could keep the place open as it is now for the dinner and bistro service; then, the weekend before Christmas, plan a grand re-opening for the bar. I’ll talk to Carbine about postponing his band’s gig until that weekend, and we'll come back with a bang. We’ll market it as the hottest party in town. The new and improved Lucky Shamrock Bar. The only place in Wyoming to see and be seen.”

Maeve’s enthusiasm was contagious, but she also spoke a lot of sense. Da and I had done extensive market research into the real ale business, and it was definitely on the rise. The alcoholic cider was also proving popular in the States, especially amongst women.

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