Page 20 of Whiskey Wednesdays

“That’s too bad. I wanted to show you their magic.”

Elodie perked up a little. “What magic?”

“The magic of letters that are made into words, then put into books.”

She looked dubious. “I’ve never seen that magic.”

“You can’t see it, you have to read it, then picture it in your head. You’ve never been reading a book, and suddenly you’re in a huge castle, going to school with other kids and learning magic together?”

Elodie shook her head. “No.”

“You’ve never been transported to a beautiful, secret garden with your two best friends? Or walked through the back of your closet to find a whole other world?” he asked.

Elodie wiggled in her seat. “No, Javy. I can’t read yet.”

He stared down at her. “We need to work on that then, don’t we? But first, you need to learn the alphabet, alright?”

She sighed a little. “Okay. Teach me.”

I smiled, watching their two heads bent over the table as they carefully reviewed the alphabet. The smell of baking cookies wafted through the small house; Connor didn’t know how lucky he was to have my dad watching over her.

Harley invited me to a party on Monday evening. I was happy to get the invitation since I didn’t know many people in Palm Springs yet. She also told me the men who owned the security company Connor used would be there, and I was curious to meet them.

She’d called it a Martini Monday party. I thought it was odd to have a party on a Monday, but she explained it was an old tradition that had been started years ago in Palm Springs. The house where the party was located sat in a well-cared-for, iconic neighborhood called Deepwell Estates, not far from my little apartment.

A blooming bougainvillea hedge ran the length of the front yard, and tall palm trees and barrel cacti dotted the landscaping. It was a charming house, and the surrounding neighborhood was full of well-kept, striking mid-century modern homes.

The front door of the home was painted a cheery yellow. I loved all the outrageous, bright-colored front doors that dotted the Palm Springs neighborhoods.

Damien greeted me. “Hey, Isabella. Nice to see you under friendlier circumstances.”

“Thanks for inviting me. Dad gave me this as a housewarming and thank you gift.” I held up a bottle of whiskey. “He told me Connor gave it to him along with his Christmas bonus. Dad’s an occasional beer drinker, but that’s about it.”

“Hey, everyone. This is Isabella,” Harley said, introducing me. She pointed to a stunning woman standing next to a hot but surly-looking man behind the kitchen bar. “That’s Laurel. She owns the house and is hosting the party this week. And the grumpy butt standing next to her is Sebastian.”

Lifting up the bottle of whiskey, I put it on the counter. “I appreciate the invitation. This is a small thank-you gift.”

Sebastian glanced down at the bottle and did a doubletake. He picked it up and checked the label. “This is twenty-year-old single malt Canadian whiskey.”

I shrugged. “To be honest, I’m regifting it. I have it on good authority it’s okay to do that.”

Harley laughed. “We regifted stale cookies. Twenty-year-old whiskey might be a little different.”

Sebastian shook his head. “That’s worth at least five hundred dollars.”

“Huh. Who in their right mind would waste that much money on whiskey?”

A tall, middle-aged man with an aloha shirt perked up. “I would.” He leaned over and held out his hand. “I’m Jonathan, and this is my husband, Ramone.”

He pointed to a shorter, handsome man with nice tan skin and salt-and-pepper hair. “Hello, darling. We’re Laurel’s family.”

I smiled at them. “Nice to meet you. Would you like to try some way over-priced twenty-year-old single whatever-he-called-it Canadian whiskey?”

Jonathan nodded enthusiastically. “It’s single malt. And hell, yes.”

Another tall, muscular man came in from the living room area. “What’s this I hear about twenty-year-old whiskey?”

Harley pointed to him. “Isa, this is Zeke. He’s our friend and Damien and Sebastian’s business partner.”

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