Page 2 of Lochlan

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Racksof wooden containers reach almost to the ceiling in the cool, dark barrel room. I walk between several racks, recalling the information on each lot until I find the right section. I want to do this before I go to my office at the far end of the building. The only thing waiting for me in that sterile place is a stack of paperwork and emails I've been avoiding. Here, in this magical place, is the beginning of liquid perfection.

I move the ladder into place, climbing up the aluminum rungs, heading for the top barrel. I pull the wine thief from my hip, remove the cork, and insert the tool to extract a small portion of juice to judge its progress. Geordie enters while I'm climbing down with my prize.

“Where did you get that load of shite?” he calls up to me. “Here's to the sweet charms of the lassies before me?” he mimics my over-the-top accent. “It took all my strength not to laugh my arse off,” he says, his booming voice echoing off the walls.

“Come on,” I say, jumping off the last rung. “Let's talk in the office.”

His eyes narrow at the full wine thief in my hand. “Is that from the cab we talked about last week?”

“It is,” I say, and we walk to the office. I fill two glasses from the wine thief and hand him one. I shrug. “I read that toast off a packet of oats I was having for my breakfast yesterday.” I chuckle at the Scottish workingman character I've created for the customers. “I admit it was pretty bad, but it's what they expect, and they seemed to enjoy the show.” I observe the man who’s always up for some mischief, even when we were two bairns getting up to something in Edinburgh. We've been here three years, and we've all had to make adjustments. “You all played your parts like obedient soldiers. You're as guilty as me trying to placate those women.”

Geordie chuckles.

I lift my glass to judge the deep rich color, then inhale the fruit essence.

“How did the party go after I left? Is Poppy the blushing bride to be?”

Geordie shakes his head. “Now, that one was a handful. She tried to grab my bum twice; Poppy definitely needs a good pumping.”

I tip my glass to him, not sorry I pointed the pretty Poppy in his direction. She's not his type either. He's too much of a romantic to fall in love with someone so brazen. “Nothing that you can't handle, cousin.”

“These American women are racier than Scottish females,” he laments, and not for the first time. “Or did we just run with the wrong crowd back home?”

I tip my glass up to the light, making more of an evaluation. “I think we're different to them, like exotic animals. You know, it's a well-known fact that men in kilts drive American women mad.” I look over the rim of my glass. “I blameOutlanderfor our good fortune.”

Geordie rears back and lets out a roar of laughter. I'm laughing too at the absurdity. He coughs and swipes at his eyes. “No, that wasn't a bachelorette party. They're a volleyball club. Poppy's like their captain. Some of the women told me she's bound for the Olympics, she's that good.”

We take a sip and evaluate for a bit. “She fancies you.” He looks up with a wry grin. “She kept asking questions. Wanted to know if you were coming back at the end to say goodbye.”

I stiffen at the thought of Poppy invading my life. “I'm not interested,” I say flatly, bracing myself for what's coming.

“You mean you're only interested if they're attached.”

“I like women who don't want a commitment.”

“Like that red hair stunner who's been in and out of here for the past month. The wine agent who wants you to sign with her company to distribute MacTavish wine in America?”

“Amber's engaged; she just wants a bit of fun before she ties the knot. Technically, she's still single.”

It took little convincing when I made the suggestion. We almost sealed the dirty deal in my office before we agreed it was a bad beginning. Pumping her on my desk with the portrait of my granda, Ian MacTavish, looking down his disapproving nose at me would take the piss right out of anyone. I plead my case to Geordie, although I know it's weak. “I was honest with her. We both understand it's temporary; I wouldn't do it otherwise.”

Geordie grunts his disapproval.

“Should I fire Shaun?” I ask, changing the subject.

Geordie's brows shoot up. “Now why would you fire Shaun? Is he not sufficiently up on his wine knowledge? Did he not know the difference between a claret and a Bordeaux?

“There's no difference, ya walloper.”

“Ah, so it is. Then it has to be that he let Poppy's party get out of hand. He's new; Preston didn't have time to tell him about our backup drills when we get in trouble.”

“Why was he alone with them in the first place?”

“Some of the female servers needed help pulling cases from storage. Preston said they had forty-five minutes before Poppy's club arrived. He left Shaun there to begin prep. I also spoke to Shaun to get his side of the story. He said they arrived early. They weren't happy when the room wasn't ready for their party.

I finish the remaining wine. “Blend this with the Santa Barbara juice. That merlot should help mellow out the mid-palate.”

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