Page 32 of Highlander's Wild Lass
A cold settled around her heart when she heard Koll’s name. But it was good news that the Brodie’s were not set on keeping business with Ryder Koll and his whisky.
The young Mr. Brodie tapped the counter excitedly with his fingers. “I tell ye, this is goin’ to make my Da’s entire day.”
“Ye have no idea how good that is to hear,” she told him.
“I must go tell my faither! I will be on my way. Good day, Mistress McLean.” He bowed once more, replaced his bonnet, and left.
She returned to her letters once she lost him amongst the people outside. Her heart started beating again and she felt much more reassured about taking on her father’s business. The young Mr. Brodie had given her a much-needed confidence boost.
It couldn’t have been more than an hour when she heard Mr. Brodie’s voice once more, along with a few other voices.
“Oh my,” she whispered, seeing five more men walk through the front door. She closed the client book and shoved it under the counter.
“Mistress McLean, I couldnae help myself. I told a few other men that I ken to be yer clients,” Mr. Brodie said, saddling once more up to the counter.
“Thank ye, Mr. Brodie. That’s very kind of ye.”
“Aye,” one of the men budded it. He was tall but thin, with nearly no hair at all. “I didnae believe what young Deacon was sayin’—I had to come see for myself.”
Celestia stood from the barstool she had been sitting on. “McLean’s is back in business.”
“What happened to Brannan McLean?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“Aye! Where is young Jacob?” another man asked.
The men crowded closer to the counter, closing in on Celestia. She began to feel breathless. “Jacob is just in the back,” she told them as she tried to maintain an even, confident voice.
“Well, get him out here. I willnae be doin’ business with a woman,” another man said, this one with mud-colored hair and pock-marked skin.
The men began to get rowdy, speaking over one another. Celestia couldn’t make heads or tails of their questions or their jeers of her being of the fairer sex.
She heard muffled footsteps coming from behind her and she turned to see Chester, Hugo, and Jacob.
“What is the meanin’ of this?” Jacob asked, his voice far deeper and louder than it had been the entire ride to Inverness.
“We’re told ye’re back open, only to hear that a woman is runnin’ things,” the pock-marked man spoke up once more, pointing a beefy finger at Celestia.
“Aye, it is true. And nay one better to be runnin’ her faither’s business,” Jacob told them, puffing out his chest slightly.
“Her faither’s business?” It was the thin man that spoke now.
“Aye! This,” Jacob said, stepping up to Celestia and laying a firm hand on her shoulder and giving it a firm shake, “is Mistress Celestia McLean—the new owner of the McLean Distillery.”
The noise level grew once more as they objected to this, wondering where Brannan McLean was. Not even Jacob was able to control these men now. It was not until Mr. Brodie whistled loudly behind him and another man near his age spoke up did the others finally fall silent.
“Well,” the young Mr. Brodie said. “I ken my faither and I will be more than pleased to once more be doin’ business with McLean’s.”
Jacob stepped around the counter and began slowly ushering the men out. “We’ll be sendin’ letters to yer establishments. If ye would like to continue workin’ with us, McLean’s will be happy to oblige.”
Once they were gone, only Jacob, the twins, and Mr. Brodie remained.
“Apologies for all of that,” Mr. Brodie said. “The older generations are curmudgeons when it comes to new ways of goin’ about things.”
“I appreciate that, but there’s nay reason to apologize,” Celestia told him. “We expected some pushback from people when they found out I was takin’ over.”
“I’m sure ye have lots to get done today. Thank ye for yer time, we will eagerly await yer letter,” Mr. Brodie said and took his leave.
It was quiet once again. Celestia exhaled loudly, placing her fingers on her forehand before collecting herself and looking at her brothers.
