Page 56 of The Estate
To distract himself, he pointed off to the far left, where the crown of the old barn was just visible. “That’s the barn I mentioned on your first day here. You can’t see it from the chapel walkway because of the turn in the road, but it’s quite close.”
“The one you mentioned turning into a distillery?”
“That’s the one,” he replied as he started walking. From the crest of the rise, they could see the barn and other outbuildings. “But I plan toreturnit to being a distillery.”
“Your family ran a distillery operation here? What happened to it?”
“Well, as family legend goes, my great-grandfather ran moonshine during prohibition.”
“No,” she interjected.
“Yes. It gets better. He would disguise the bottles, painting them white so they looked like milk deliveries. He had cows, so it was a pretty foolproof way of hiding the bootlegging operation.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Isn’t it? It worked flawlessly until the day he dropped a bottle ofmilkon the street and the local sheriff was close by.”
“Oh no. He shut down the operation?”
“No. Great Grandpa had to start making a complimentary milk delivery to the Sheriff’s house after that.”
Rachel howled with laughter. He loved it. Her unabashed enjoyment thrilled him and the sound of her laugh danced along his nerves.
“Oh Cal,” she said. “That’s the best story. So you’re hoping to return the old barn and the estate to its moonshine roots.”
“Something like that,” he said. “My grandfather also did some distilling, but he was never one to sell anything. He did it for fun. He also made cider and wine. Actually, some of these other outbuildings were where he aged his spirits.”
“It’s in your blood.”
“That’s how I like to think of it. Growing up here, I always found myself drawn to brewing and distilling. I was lucky enough when I graduated college to work at a distillery down in Kentucky for a number of years. Because I befriended the head distiller and expressed my interest, I had the opportunity to shadow him, and the company even facilitated my job rotations. I worked in distillery operations, brand management, sales, wherever there was a need.
“I even spent one vacation attending a week-long distilling course. That’s when I first started dreaming of opening my own distillery. It made it seem possible.”
Rachel took a moment before she asked, “Why didn’t you start the distillery here first, rather than establishing White Hall as an event space?”
“Even with renovations, establishing a venue is a quicker path to profitability than a distillery.” Cal sighed. He’d begged his parents for time and that was the first thing they told him he didn’t have.
“My parents’ desire to sell the estate took me by surprise. I wasn’t aware that a final payment was being dispersed from the trust. As soon as they said something, I asked them to wait. To give me time to make something of it. But my parents still see White Hall as a failing asset. They don’t understand what I do or how good the estate could become. Neither does my brother James.
“I’m kind of the odd duck in our family. They’re passionate about finances and the stock market, and I just can’t give a damn about any of that.”
They topped the small rise, and the remaining part of the estate spread out before them. He paused to appreciate the view. The stately old barn to the right and the few outbuildings spanning out toward the left where he’d age his bourbon. The addition of seating and picnic tablesthat he'd nestle underneath the trees for guests to gather and celebrated.
One day it would be like that. He could picture it so clearly in his mind.
“I may not give a damn about any of that, but this,” he jerked his chin toward the chapel and the barn. “This, I do give a damn about. And I have plans.”
Rachel hung her head. He went to assure her, “I completely understand that you’re here to do a job, and I don’t want to make that more difficult.”
“No. No,” she said, looking up at him. “It’s not that. It’s…um. It’s nothing. I’d like to hear more. Please.”
He turned them back toward the house before replying. “Long term, besides the distillery, I intend to convert the main house to a bed-and-breakfast. I think that dovetails nicely with multiday events and really makes White Hall a destination.
“After that, maybe a retreat center of sorts. Meditation labyrinths have always fascinated me."
“Really,” she asked skeptically.
“Ya, that’s weird, right?”
