Page 55 of Grace on the Rocks

She gaveWesa look, and the blonde eyed her barely touchedWellington, then picked the whole thing up in her hand. “Ibetter go with her.She’sthe clumsiest person when she’s in a hurry.Bea shame to knock the candle over trying to blow it out,” she finished pathetically.

“Maybe we’ll see you at theShakespearelater,”GracetoldElspeth.

“I want to go to theShakespeare!”Saraexclaimed.

“You wouldn’t like it,”Caittold her daughter through gritted teeth as theAmericanInvasionscurried out ofBryan’schildhood home.Thatwas one way of putting him out of his misery, he supposed.

Everyone sat in stunned silence for a moment, and thenSampicked up hisWellingtonin his hands and prepared to take a big bite like it was a sandwich.

“Absolutely not,”Caittold him.

“She did it!”

“She’sAmerican,” his sister snarled.

Sam wasn’t the least bit mollified, but he slapped his food down and picked up the fork.

“So, a distillery,”Elspethsaid brightly.

“We have a distillery,”Cameronreplied, setting down his silverware.

“Islay has nine,”Bryansaid.

“Islay’s ten times the size ofBarra, so by your logic, we’re all set.”

“Are you going to put the distillery inGrandad’shouse?”Elspethasked.

“The council would never approve it,”Cameronscoffed.

“Wasn’t gonna.”

“Where, then?”Caitdemanded.

“S-somewhere else.”

“So this whole idea is more aspirational than anything.”Cameronnodded like he’d suspected it all along.

This was a mistake.Bryanhad known from the moment he accepted the invitation.Whoeversaid you can’t go home again wasn’t kidding.Heclenched his jaw tight and pushed the potatoes around on his plate.

“It’s good to have dreams,” his mother said softly.

“Not at thirty-five,” his father argued.

“I dreamed all my teeth fell out,”Saravolunteered.

“I assume family will get to drink for free?”AuntieEilidhasked.

“He’s lying,”Caitsaid.

“Why d’you assume he’s lying?He’sbeen working atArdbegfor years,”Elspethjumped to his defense.

“Not about the whisky.Aboutthe house.Whywould he buy other land for his whisky experiment whenGrandad’splace is right there, his for the taking?” she demanded, glaring daggers across the table at him. “Whowould do that?Hedoesn’t have that kind of capital even after selling the house.Itdoesn’t make sense.”

“I-I-I—”Bryanstammered.

“Capital!” his father scoffed. “That’sa good point.Howare you going to pay for this so-called distillery?”

“I—”

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