Page 21 of A Sip of Sherry

“In other words, he’s getting laid regularly,” Nero said.

“Dude, that’s your sister,” Wyatt said, pretending to be disgusted.

Nero shrugged.“Didn’t say I was happy about it, but even you know they’ve been eye-fucking since we got here.”

“Jesus, Nero!”Chardonnay exclaimed with a backhand to his shoulder.

“Ow!”He rubbed at the spot.“Now I need Lainey to kiss it better.”

“Don’t make me text her,” Rose said, holding up her phone.

“Can you tap that cask, so he stops talking?”Franc asked.

Laughter rippled through the room, even from Albert’s table.

“Now that everyone’s appetite is ruined.”Brady lined the tap with the center of the cask, and with two solid whacks, amber liquid trickled into a glass.Cheers erupted, and I joined in.I had spent so much of my time holed up in my townhouse, trying not to make any connections with the town or its people.I almost forgot how nice it was to belong to something outside of myself.

The first glass was handed off to Chardonnay, then Franc.Eventually, everyone had a glass.

“To good whiskey,” Franc said.

“And bad influences,” Meadow added.

“Speak for yourself,” Nero muttered with a charming smirk.

Albert held up his glass and admired the color in the light of the setting sun.“As long as it’s not that pumpkin spice crap you had in the fall, I’ll drink anything.”

“Oh Albert, you know you loved it,” Meadow said.“You especially loved the cinnamon sugar rim.”

“Traitor,” he mumbled.

Brady held up his glass, his eyes scanning the room.“To all of you,” he said with a heartfelt smile.“Salud.”

I took a sip of the whiskey, and as soon as the amber liquid hit my tongue, I could taste the layers of flavor and appreciated the complexity.

“Now that is some good whiskey,” Steve said.

“Couldn’t agree more.”I took another swig.

“I know I’m O-for-one here, but just thought I’d let you know.”Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.He slid it across the table, and I realized it was not just a piece of paper; it was a flyer forSasquatch and Sips,a collaboration between Vine Valley Vineyard and his museum.I thought I heard Sherry mumble something about it when she breezed by me in the warehouse as if I wasn’t there.

“It’s going to be a lot of fun,” Steve said.“I’ll go over some new evidence that has been found while tasting some delicious wines.Then I can give you a tour of the museum.A lot of people say they get more out of it after they’ve had a few drinks.”

“You don’t say?”

“I think it helps open their minds,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I bet it does.”

“So what do you say?Come by my museum?”

A million excuses ran through my mind, each one more unbelievable than the next.I’d become a pro at avoiding town events and making acquaintances.I was here for a job, and that job did not entail wine tasting at a Big Foot Museum.But as I looked at Steve, the hope in his eyes, the anticipatory angle of his shoulders as he waited with bated breath for my answer, I couldn’t grab hold of a single excuse.

“Count me in,” I said, surprising myself.

“Really?”Steve’s eyes widened, shock and joy converging on his face.He let out awhoop ’that caused half the place to turn.“That’s great!I can’t wait.”

“Me either,” I said, and for some strange fucked up reason, I meant it.

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