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“We?” I ask and look at him.
“Ahh, well… me.” He clears his throat, and I let it go. Maybe he has staff or something. I am sure in a small town like this, I would be a talking point. Especially since Marie probably never mentioned me.
I look around some more as we walk. “What’s that?” I spot the large building in the distance again.
“That is Whiteman’s Distillery. They own most of the land out here. Quite keen on this property too, if you were considering selling?” he asks, looking at me, seemingly hopeful.
“I’m not,” I say quickly and firmly, shaking my head. After the discussion with my mom and the acute understanding that I have nothing left for me in the city, I am giving myself at least three months. If I don’t make it work after that, then I can think about potential next steps. A decision I don’t feel so good about right now as I step onto the mess of a lawn and immediately feel the dampness of the grass seeping into my bright-pink flats I wore today to match my new scarf. I make a mental note to order some boots.
“Alright, good to know.” He nods, a small smile on his face. “So Marie couldn’t keep up with it much in her later years, but the house itself is solid. Maybe some minor renovations are needed, but structurally, it is sound. The farm here is small, but again, it was a handful for her. There is one milking cow, and Kevin, the young boy from down the road, has been cycling up here daily to milk it, then takes the milk home with him. He is keen to keepdoing that if you will allow him, but I told him to talk to you about it when he is here next.”
“That sounds fine.” I have no idea how to milk a cow and can’t remember the last time I drank dairy milk.
“There were two goats, but one seems to have gone missing. So now this one goat has free range of the yard in this fenced area, but it needs to be locked up at night. You know, bobcats and such.” As he continues, I want to tell him thatno, in fact, I don’t know, but instead, I add that to my very long list of research topics.
“There is this shed, which has all the tools and materials you will need for the time being. I understand there is a lot of work to do here. Bob runs Whispers Hardware in town, and they will have everything you need and can help you out with anything to do with the maintenance, renovations, or farm. Likewise with the truck,” he says, and my eyebrows rise.
“Truck?” I ask.
“Marie’s truck. I assume that will be your transportation while here. I mean, we have Peter, but that’s all. We don’t have any fancy Ubers like in the city,” he says with a chuckle. Transportation is not something I thought about, so I am glad I have access to a vehicle. He nods in the direction of the shed, so I look around the large door and spot a run-down truck that is a bit rusted.
“She looks old but runs fine. It was recently serviced,” Jerry says, like he knows what I’m thinking.
“Right,” I say with a nervous laugh and an awkward smile, looking back up at the house.
“Have you ever been on a farm before, MissMcArthur?” he asks, glancing at me with concern, and I swallow harshly.
“No, I haven’t.” My response has him grimacing, but he turns it into a smile just as quickly. How hard can it be? There is a fat goat chewing the grass; the cow looks bored with life, and a scattering of chickens run around at their feet. But then I look at the fencing that needs repair, the screen door on the house that’s rusted and barely hanging on, the chipped paint on just about everything, and my breathing quickens as understanding washes over me that I am severely underprepared for this. I haven’t even stepped inside yet.
“Everyone in town is nice and helpful. If you run into any major concerns, you can call me. Here are the keys. The electricity and water are still connected. I have left the paperwork for all that inside on the counter. I just need you to sign the contract of ownership, and I can leave you to it.” He rocks back on his heels.
“Okay,” I say on a breath. I can do this. “Thank you, Mr. Walker. Let’s head inside.” I turn toward the house, and as I do, I get a vision. It is run-down now, needs some maintenance, but I can see it. Big, beautiful, and white. A porch that runs all the way around. Beautiful flowers scattered in the garden. I envision the potential of the new I can make of the old, and my excitement comes barreling back.
5
TANNER
It is day twenty-nine. I have called Jerry every day for the past month to see if he has heard anything because I am keen to get started on my plans. But as of yesterday, no long-lost niece has come to take ownership, so I am excited to get things in motion.
“I love this jet,” Sawyer says as we step off my private aircraft after a week in New York. A twelve-seater with white leather seats and dark wood paneling, the bar stocked with my whiskey. There is a lot to love.
“Do I get to take the cost of transporting you off your retainer?” I smirk at him as we jump into the truck already sitting on the tarmac for me. I don’t like having a driver when at home. My team knows to just deliver my truck and let me drive.
“Nah, I might increase your rates and buy my own,” he quips.Smart-ass. I turn out of the small airport and hit the road, looking out the window at the green pastures, and take a breath, relieved to be home. I hate the city. But with business booming and Connormanaging the office there at the moment, I need to travel frequently.
“Is everything organized?” I ask Sawyer again, probably for the hundredth time.
“Yes. Paperwork is ready to sign; funds are also ready to go. Griffin and his team are just waiting for the go-ahead. The only thing we need is for the deadline to end officially and for Jerry to answer my call.” Nodding to me, I know he has it all under control.
“I have Griffin flying in tomorrow,” I tell him, feeling everything finally coming together. If it all goes to plan, I should have my new building operational before the end of the year and just in time for the holidays.
“We can sign the papers first thing tomorrow and transfer the funds. I will put a rush through for final building permits, and Griffin and his team should be able to start demolition almost immediately,” Sawyer confirms, and I nod, eager about this new venture.
The distillery was something I started in my youth. The art of making whiskey was handed down to me from my father, and the one thing that I was good at. Becoming a dad as a teenager wasn’t part of my plan, and so instead of moving away for college, I stayed home and delved into the whiskey business, working from my dad’s shed while being a devoted dad to my son. I had to make the whiskey business work, for both our sakes. I kept my head down and built Whiteman’s up to where it is today. The country's most premium brand of whiskey—the only whiskey to be in the White House with President Rothschild and it has turned our small family of two into billionaires.
“I still haven’t heard from Jerry today,” Sawyer says, rolling his cell in his hand.
“I spoke to him yesterday, told him we will see him when we land. He knows I want this place immediately.” Jerry being quiet today is unusual, but I’m not worried. With only twenty-four hours left, I know the land is mine.
