Page 27 of Bourbon and Proof

She, along with the rest of the world, knows about my father’s arrest and his charges. But only a few people have taken the time to ask how I’m doing. The anger I hold for him is eating away at me, and even though I’m trying my hardest not to show it, I’m getting awfully tired of the weight of it all.

“I’m thriving. Obviously,” I say with sarcasm and a smile. I have no interest in tearful truths while I’m responsible for Lincoln’s girls. They’re two of my favorite people, and I believe they need to be kids for as long as life allows. They don’t need to overhear, let alone sense, the burdens I’m carrying. So I do what I’m exceptional at—I push it aside. Focus on the things that make me feel good and normal. And right now, that’s donuts. A lot of them.

She gives me a nod and a smile, hearing loud and clear that I’m only willing to show my surface today. Then she brings her attention back to Lily with a wink. “Lily, you’re smart to thinkabout what’s in season. But you and Lark are both right. My special is a dark chocolate with a raspberry ganache filling.”

Lark looks at me with a smirk, because she already knows what I’m going to say.

“Presh, we’re going to need a dozen of those and a dozen glazed. Plus, three for our drive,” I say with a smile. “I’m bringing the girls to the distillery, and I know as soon as people see the mint-green boxes, everyone’s going to be begging for one of these.”

“Absolutely. I’ll put a powdered jelly in there for Griz too, then,” she says. “You mind telling Griz that I had a question about an order he placed? I don’t have a phone number for him, only Ace.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “I got the impression he didn’t want Ace knowing about what he was doing, so...”

Now I’m intrigued.

The girls move around the patio and try picking up the ducklings waddling around the little pond. The small inlet is calm and quiet compared to the river at the edge of her property.

She moves around the kitchen, pulling out trays from the oven and turning off timers.

“Are you thinking you might stop by the distillery for Ditch the Derby day?” I ask.

“Maybe,” she says. But I know, like most of her “maybes,” that she won’t.

“Laney, Faye, and I are going to do some cocktail experiments tonight. I bet the girls would love to have you join us.”

She smiles as she folds up the mint-green boxes for our donuts. “I like being here. I have everything I need. But you and your girlfriends are always welcome to come visit me.” The gossip in this town has buzzed for years about Prestley. After her husband disappeared, she became a bit of a recluse, neverleaving her home. Bold rumors ran rampant around the time that happened—whispers about her being a black widow and giving a man who was too rough what he had coming. I’d met men like him, got too close, and they conveniently disappeared too. It isn’t something that makes me think negatively of her.

Lark lays on my horn and yells out, “Auntie Hadley, can I ride in the front seat? Please, please?”

Presh passes me the small stack of too many donuts and smiles. “Thanks for coming to see me. It always brightens things around here.”

“How long haveyou and Dad been friends, Hadley?” Lily asks with donut glaze shimmering from cheek to cheek. She just turned ten, and while her attitude doubled, along with a newfound interest in skincare, thanks to plenty of YouTubers, moments like this are nice reminders that she’s still a kid.

“Your mom thought your dad was the cutest guy in the world.” I smile as I picture a young Linc. They both know this story, but I think they like to be reminded every once in a while. Their mother, Olivia, passed away just over six years ago now. “And he tried to be sooo cool and pretend like he didn’t notice her, but we were persistent,” I say, thinking back to all of those years ago. “Me and your mom followed him home after school for almost two months before he asked if we wanted to see the tire swing down by the river. It didn’t take long for them to fall in love after that.” I’m still not too sure how it happened, but we ended up being fast friends too. And it’s a friendship I treasure. People would always make assumptions before Faye came around—that one of us felt more than friendship or that men and women couldn’t be “just friends.” We were theexception to all of it. Or it was simply that he had fallen for the girls’ mom, and I had taken one look at the oldest Foxx brother, and my brain chemistry had been altered. I, of course, keepthatinformation to myself.

I pull up to the main house—that’s what mostly everyone calls it, but it’s Ace and Griz’s place. Holding the door open for the girls, I tilt my head back and enjoy the sweet smell that carries all the way over here from the distillery. Fiasco always holds a sweetness like sugar and cinnamon. My mom said once that it’s because Fiasco is sweeter than anywhere else. But it’s Foxx Bourbon that makes the air almost taste like freshly baked croissants and pecan pie. There was a cocktail-infused night recently with Laney and Faye when we licked the air between bites of charcuterie. Lincoln explained to me a long time ago that it was the yeast breaking down the sugars in the massive vats of their mash bills. Toss in thousands of oak barrels aging at all temperatures and that smell is what’s left until the bourbon is ready.

“Hey, Uncle Ace,” Lily says as she shimmies her body out of the back seat, smiling as she holds up the boxes from The Holey Donut.

Without stopping, he says, “Save me one for later, Lily,” and keeps walking straight past us, no eye contact and seemingly all sorts of angry. His hair is a mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it, and the scowl on his face is murderous. He glances briefly at me as he passes, but there’s no trace of the man who, regardless of his mood, always nods at me, or at the very least, gives his nieces some attention. Something’s wildly wrong.

“Did my little flowers bring me donuts?!” Grant calls out, pulling our attention and effectively distracting the girls from the ire that just billowed off Ace. An easy smile takes over Grant’s face as he focuses on the girls and the donuts, while Lincoln blows past him, stopping next to me. He looks defeatedfor not catching up with his older brother.What the hell just happened? It’s not even noon!?

Glancing toward Ace’s back getting farther away, my gaze swings back up at Lincoln, then over to Grant. I raise my eyebrows, silently asking them what’s going on.

Grant just gives a small shake of his head, signaling,don’t ask.

Fat chance of that.

Lincoln’s hands are slung into his pockets, watching his brother walk away with nothing but anger wafting from him.

“What’s going on?” I ask, shifting my weight. Whatever this is, it isn’t just a disagreement about a blend.

“Griz decided to tell us he’s officially retiring,” Linc says in a less-than-enthused tone.

I crack a smile. I figured that would happen eventually—none of us are getting any younger. “And that’s bad?” I ask, trying to unpack the reality that Griz won’t be in charge any longer. Ace had taken most of the control years ago, but Griz is Foxx Bourbon. He’d built that brand with his boys.

“Yeah, it’s bad. Griz decided to add a stipulation?—”

Of course he did. Griz always had something cooking under every surface. I’ve been around here long enough to know that.

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