Page 103 of Bourbon and Lies

“Now might bea good time to tell us what you’ve been up to, Grant.” I shift a glance at Griz as he prods Grant. With the 100-year celebration coming in mere days, there have been thousands of phone calls, media attention, and concerned bourbon lovers that the highlight of our celebration just went up in literal flames.

I squeeze Grant’s hand, letting him know I’m here.

He looks to Ace and takes a chance. “What if you were celebrating 100 years with something unexpected?”

Ace has been stressed out and barely sleeping since that fire. There’s a lot to running this company and Ace made it look almost effortless. But this was a big hit for them—they could have lost a lot more than what they did, but Grant had a solution to share.

Ace crosses his arms, leaning against his desk, and Lincoln stops texting.

“When Fiona and Olivia passed, I started making batches. My own mash bill.” He wipes his palms on his jeans. “I wasn’t planning for it to be anything more than a way to make timemove. I wanted to try to do the one thing that my name promised—make some damn fine bourbon.”

I look around at their faces. Stoic, confused, and amused between the three of them.

“Those batches are ready.” He lets a smile crack, and so do I. “And it’s pretty fucking good.”

“Where?” Ace interrupts. “Where the fuck are you aging barrels?”

Griz starts laughing.

Grant glares at him. But his deep rumble keeps going. “What? I can’t believe nobody figured it out sooner. Ya’ll are damn idiots if you didn’t catch on by now.” He looks at me with a wink. “Except for you, darlin’.”

“The caves up near the falls.”

Lincoln chimes in, “Are you shitting me?”

Grant shakes his head.

“I never told you, because it was never about adding something to the brand. Or stepping on toes. I didn’t want either of you thinking that I wanted to take over what you’ve spent your careers building.”

I watch the master distiller and CEO of the brand look downright confused at what Grant just said. I don’t think they would have felt that way at all.

“I had my career and left it. Making barrels kept me moving. I did what we were taught to do. The thing that’s been in our blood for generations.” I nod my head to Ace. “You did that for me. I made bourbon, got lost in the process and the chemistry, the nuances. I did it in small batches, with different variations until I found something worthy. It gave me purpose again. It’s taken a long time to improve how I run a team of people.” I smile at the way the cooperage has been running lately. “But I want this. It’s good fucking bourbon.”

“How much are we talking here, Grant?”

“Give or take about 250 barrels.”

“Are you fucking serious!?” Lincoln barks out. “But the temperature in a spot like that must have been all over the place. Really huge extremes? Or is it chilled? What’s the proof clocking out at? Is it at its sweet spot yet?”

Grant laughs lightly, his face and neck tinted pink with nerves. “I think it is, but you’re going to have to tell me.”

Ace looks at Lincoln and a quiet exchange passes. “You want to put it in place of what we lost?”

Griz chimes in, “The truth is, most of what burned in that rickhouse was nostalgic. I tasted too many over-oaked barrels. Maybe half of what was there was going to get dumped anyway.”

He looks at Ace. “I think it’s high time you each had your own bourbon. And I’m not talking about your years. I’m talking about a mash that’s special to you. You want something different to breathe life into this old girl, then you have to stop looking at me for answers.”

Ace holds his hand out, looking frustrated. “You offer your answers, Griz. It’s hard to tune them out.”

Ignoring that, he turns to Grant. “I’m going to need a taste.”

His mouth kicks up to the side. “I can do that.”

“Laney, what are you thinking here?” Ace asks, brow furrowing slightly. But he’s into this, I can tell.

I pull out a small packet filled with ideas and designs about what to call it, how to roll it out, and most importantly, how to make it rival something that’s been hyped for years now.

“There are plenty of ways to spin it. But if what you’re thinking, Griz, is that your boys should have their own craft blend, then there’s only one name for this one.”

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