These last two weeks have been hectic. I’m not even sure Gramps knows the extent of what has been going on at the distillery. Numbers were down due to mechanical issues he said he would handle when he got back in the office. It’s been weeks since he’s be in. Thus, production is down, which leads to low sales. We can’t keep up with the demand. Finally, this afternoon, the line was repaired, and we are back up and running. I’ve approved overtime to anyone who wants it to try to get our numbers back where they need to be. Two months the line has been down. That’s a hell of a lot of production time, considering we run three shifts around the clock. Luckily, Gramps has a great staff and the volunteers are plentiful. I can only hope that having all hands on deck helps. It’ll make tank clean-out faster, hence production times increase. At least that’s my thought process.
When I pull up to the house, it’s dark. I assume Rosa has gone home and the night nurse has taken her place. Gramps is recovering slowly but improves each day. He stays in his room—at least when I’m home that’s where he spends most of his time. I still go to his room to eat breakfast with him every morning. I talk and hope he’s listening. I get grunts every now and then and the ever constant, “You can go home,” and “I don’t need you here.” I love the old man, but he’s pissing me the hell off. I’ve admitted I should have been here, but damn it man, he’s holding this grudge and taking this too far. I’m running his company, and he refuses to talk to me about it.
My phone vibrates in the cupholder. Shutting off the car, I grab it, seeing Dad’s name on the screen. “Dad,” I greet him.
“Son,” he chuckles. “How are things?”
I sigh.
“That good, huh?”
“He’s pissed. I get it, I do, but he needs to let it go.”
Dad laughs. “I know his stubborn side all too well. I know we kept most of the drama from you, but why do you think I’m here in Tennessee at the brewery and he’s there in West Virginia?”
“I’ve never seen this side of him.” I rake my hands through my hair. Why does the old man have to be so fucking frustrating?
“You wouldn’t.” He chuckles. “He was your hero, next to me of course,” he boasts.
“How long is he going to be like this?” I know my father can’t really know the answer to the question, but I’m grasping at straws here.
“Hard to tell, son. He’s always been stubborn. When I was younger, I felt it was easier to leave, start over on my own. I love him, he’s my dad, but to work with him, I don’t think we would have been able to pull it off. That’s why I sent you. If anyone can get him to pull the stubborn stick out of his ass, it’s you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I think.”
“You’re a lot like him, Rhett. You’ve always known what you wanted and never stopped until you achieved it. It’s in our blood as Baxter men.”
“I should have been here more, I get that,” I admit.
“Maybe. You also can’t live your life for anyone but yourself. I’m just as guilty, but you two, you always had a special bond. He’ll come out of it. It’s only been two weeks.”
“How’s Mom doing?”
“You know your mother. She’s loving it. Misses you, but she and Carrie are two peas in a pod. Taking the brewery by storm.”
I can hear the affection in his voice. Mom has always been his biggest weakness. “And I’m sure you’re letting them.” I know he is.
He chuckles. “That I am, son. She’s my light, and she gave me you. She can do and have any damn thing she wants.”
I shake my head, a smile on my face. “Sappy old man,” I tease him.
“You just wait, son. One day you’ll understand. In the meantime, just try to be patient. He’ll come around.”
“Tell Mom I love her,” I say, knowing I need to get inside and see Gramps.
“Will do. Take care, son.”
With that the line goes dead. Climbing out of the car, I head inside. There’s a note from Rosa on the counter.
Without the note, I would have found dinner. The entire house smells so fucking good it makes my stomach growl. Rosa is a fantastic cook, and I’m suddenly starving. Serving up two bowls of roast, potatoes, and carrots, I grab two bottles of water and head upstairs. “Knock, knock,” I say, entering the room. “Rosa made her famous pot roast.”
Gramps looks at me, no expression at all, then turns his attention back to the television.
“I hear you’ve had a good day.”
“Hmpf.” That’s the standard reply I’ve been getting the last two weeks.
I busy myself setting his bowl and water on the table and move it over the bed so he can reach it. Grabbing mine from the dresser, I take a seat and begin to eat. “So, we got the line back up and running today. Finally. I approved overtime, so hopefully production numbers will go back up. It will take us a week or so to get back to where we were.”
Nothing. No reply. He does however pick up his fork and begin to eat. I’ll consider that progress.
The landline on the nightstand rings. “You want me to get that?” I ask. He grunts, so I take that as a yes. “Hello,” I say.
“Who’s this?” a gruff voice asks.
“This is Rhett. Who’s this?”
“Rhett number three, is that you?” the gruff voice asks.
Immediately I smile. “Mason, how have you been?”
“Good. Good. You know, living the dream. Number one around?”
“He is. Hold on.” I hold the phone out to Gramps. “It’s Mason.”
He reaches for the phone and puts it to his ear. At least I know he hears me when I talk. Or maybe he tunes me out and was just interested in who was calling to talk to him. I eat my food, and it’s just as good as it smells. Eventually he hands the phone to me. I have no idea if Mason hung up, so I put it back to my ear. “You there?”
“Yeah. He’s got a thorn in his ass, I can see.” Mason laughs.
“Yep.” No use in defending him. These two have been friends for years.
“Well, I’ll tell you. We’re coming there for Thanksgiving this year. We alternate his place and mine every year. This year it’s his turn, which is convenient since he’s not well. He doesn’t need to be out and about. We keep it small; it’ll be nice to have you here with us this year.”
“Yeah,” I say wistfully. “Should have done this sooner.”
“You’re here now, that’s all that matters. I talked to Rosa earlier when he was sleeping. She’s going to do all the shopping, and we’ll do the cooking like always. We’ll eat at one. I’ll be there the night before to start the bird. Number one usually does it, but he’s in no shape. I’ll see you then.”
The line goes dead. Mason has always been like a fucking hurricane, full of energy. I would have thought he would have slowed down in his old age. Apparently, retirement is good. Gramps places his empty bowl on the table in front of him. “You want more?”
“No.” He coughs, turns off the TV, and rolls over.
Dismissed again. I gather our empty bowls and close the door lightly behind me. Needing to wash off this day, I head to my room for a hot shower. I stand there until the water runs cold, and it’s not lost of me that this is definitely my routine. When I step out of the shower, my phone is ringing. Quickly, I grab a towel and rush into my bedroom to answer.
“About fucking time,” Jake, my childhood friend, says as soon as I pick up.
“I was in the shower, dick,” I fire back.
He laughs. “So what’s the deal? You’ve been here for a few weeks now, and I’ve yet to see you in my bar.”
“Two weeks, not even a full two weeks if you want to get technical, and I’ve been there, but you were not.”
“When?”
“The day I got here. It was a hell of a day with Gramps being pissed and it being my first day at the distillery. I needed a drink.”
“You shitting me?” he asks.
“Nope. I met that hot little bartender, dark hair, blue eyes, chip on her shoulder.”
“Ah, you were here. That’s Saylor, she’s new. She’s been through a lot. Great girl.”
“Hot as fuck, but that attitude,” I say, running the towel over my hair.
“I haven’t noticed.”
“I call bullshit. I know Molly is your end game, but come on man, you had to notice.”
“She’s easy on the eyes,” he concedes.
“Hot as fuck,” I say again, making him laugh. “So what’s her deal?”
“Not my story to tell, my man.”
That’s Jake, noble to a fault. “So, how are things with the beautiful Molly?”
“She’s beautifully perfect. What about you? What are you getting into tonight?”
“Holding down the damn couch. You?”
“I’m at the Corner Pocket, why don’t you come out?”
“Is the hot bartender working?” Sure, she has an attitude, but I could get on board with seeing her again. She’s perfect as long as she doesn’t talk. She’s a tiny thing, with curves in all the right places. That black as night hair and those blue eyes are what fantasies are made of. I still can’t believe she was running with her eyes closed. She’s lucky it was me. It could have turned out worse for her.
“No. My girl and Say are having a girls’ night. Movies and whatnot. They’re at home.”
Damn. “Oh well, I guess I get to look at your ugly ass. Let me get dressed and check in with the night nurse. Then I’ll be there.”
“Catch you later,” he says, and the line goes dead.
Quickly getting dressed, I go in search of the night nurse. She has her own room just down from Gramps. I find her in the kitchen. “Hi, how is he?” I ask her.
“I just checked in on him. He’s sleeping.”
“Good. I’m going out for a while. You’re going to be here, right?” I know she is, but I just want to confirm to make sure.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be here all night.”
“Good. You have my cell if something comes up?”
“I do.”
With that, I head to the garage. Drinks with an old friend is exactly what I need right now.