Page 14 of Whiskey Chase
She brightened. “Just bein’ neighborly.”
I dropped my hand. But she leaned over and squeezed my knee. “You’re gonna be all right, Dev. Bootleg will fix you up, and you won’t even remember that dumbass ex-wife’s name by the time we’re done with you.”
“I feel like you’re threatening me with blackout drunkenness.”
“Well, youarein the home of the best moonshine in the state. I’ve got my great-granddaddy’s recipe, and I just might be willing to spare a mason jar for a neighbor who needs to forget.”
“It’s not the stuff that’ll make me go blind, is it?”
She snorted. “That only happened on the first couple of batches. My great-granddaddy was real sorry about it, too.”
“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
“Little bit.”
7
Devlin
My neighborly neighbor showed up on my deck Saturday at two o’clock squishing her forehead against the glass of the door and knocking. I’d seen a lot of her this week. She’d tackled the work on her list with gusto, fitting me in around other work projects. I would have been flattered that she was prioritizing my tasks, but I knew that Scarlett Bodine was keeping an eye on me.
“I’m fine, Mom,” I said into the phone for the sixth time as I pulled the door open for Scarlett.
“Your father and I just want to make sure that you’re staying focused.”
The McCallisters were nothing if not focused. By the time I was in third grade, I knew I’d follow my father’s steps into politics. I’d never bothered to wonder if it was what I wanted.
“I’m fine. I’m focused.”
Scarlett ducked inside and danced on the balls of her feet.
“Good because we’re going to have to work to undo the negative press before next year’s session begins. And it’s an election year. I hope this hasn’t set us back too far.”
I could hear the clink of china as she set her afternoon cappuccino down on its saucer. My mother was the perfect politician’s wife. A lifelong volunteer, the perfect hostess, a natural social butterfly. She was the perfect supportive partner to my father’s career. I thought I’d made the same choice in Johanna.
“I’m prepared to do the work,” I promised.
“I’m glad to hear it. For now, we feel it’s best if you continue to stay off everyone’s radar for a few more weeks. Hopefully someone else will give them something to talk about this summer.”
Scarlett hopped from foot to foot looking like a kid on Christmas morning in front of a mound of unopened presents.
“I’m sure some scandal will arise,” I promised my mother.
“Just make sure it’s not your own. If you and Johanna can’t work this out, you’re going to have to make sure everyone knows it’s an amicable split.”
There was zero chance of us working it out and also no chance for the divorce to be an amicable one. But I didn’t feel now was the right time to explain that to my mother.
“I’ve got to go mom. My neighbor is here.”
“Ugh, I can only imagine. Are they wearing overalls?”
My mother hated the fact that her mother loved Bootleg. My grandmother invited Mom to Bootleg when she first moved here, and after one weekend in town, my mother vowed to never return. “Those people eat roadkill,” she insisted at dinner parties when it was appropriate to paint her mother as a charming eccentric.
“I’ll call you later, Mom,” I said dryly.
I disconnected and tossed the phone on the coffee table. “Why are you dancing around my living room?” I asked, surprised that I was actually looking forward to the reason.
“Grab some flip flops and let’s go!”
