Page 113 of The Dravenhearst Brides
Toni laughed. “You do that. Prohibition isn’t going anywhere, not in this state. Bet he’s realizing what a mistake he’s made tonight. Mistakes sure can be painful, can’t they?”
Margot froze, thinking of Merrick doubled over in the bathroom, his gut seizing in pain. What, precisely, was Toni implying?
She shook her head. No. Toni had been on the other side of the room all night. He had nothing to do with this.
“Have a lovely evening, Antoni.”
Margot disappeared into the crowd, returning to the bathroom posthaste.
“It’s me,” she whispered, helping Merrick stand. “We’re going home. Come on.”
“Is dinner over?” he slurred, accepting her hand. His was terribly clammy, his pupils dilated. “Did I give my speech?”
“Yes,” she lied. “All done. It’s time to go.”
With one wobbling step after another, they departed city hall. They’d parked the roadster less than a block away.
The roadster!
How had she not realized before? Merrick was in no condition to drive. Perhaps Ruth…
But Ruth was inside, salvaging their reputations and their livelihood.
No, Margot would have to do this alone. She gritted her teeth and assisted Merrick into the passenger seat, his head lolling back, eyes half closed.
There was no time for fear. None whatsoever.
Margot settled in the driver’s seat and slid her hands over the wheel. It was larger than she’d expected, dwarfing her grip. The seat swallowed her, an imprint of Merrick’s overly large body pressed into the cushions. She needed to sit up very straight to see over the dash.
Keys.
She fumbled for them, digging in Merrick’s pockets.
Gas valve open. Gearshift neutral. Hand brake on.
She took a deep, nervous breath before adjusting the throttle.
Ignition.
The roadster rumbled to life, a metallic beast at her fingertips. Her feet scrambled forward to find the pedals. Her fingers darted over the wheel. She’d seen Merrick do it so many times. She knew how.
In theory.
Be brave,she told herself. She brushed a hand over the back of her neck. It prickled with heat, but Margot was determined. Her vision did not tunnel. Distressed or not, she was strong enough to do this.
She had to be.
For Merrick.
“Lord Jesus, protect us,” she prayed, sliding the car into gear.
They lurched forward into the night. Lurched out of the city and onto winding roads, making wild but swift progress toward the one place Margot swore she’d never return.
Dravenhearst Distilling.
38
October 31, 1913
