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Love in Numbers
Author: Scarlett Cole

 


Chapter One

 

 

Emerson Dyer reached the door of her father’s office in their family-run gin distillery. She ran her fingertips across the brass plate with his name on it. He’d regaled her a thousand times with the story of how her mother had hung it when they’d first bought the place. “I miss you, Dad,” she murmured before pushing the door open.

The office was still her father’s. His raincoat still hung on the back of the door. The Denver Broncos mug she’d gotten him for Father’s Day when she was fifteen sat on his desk. Her mind returned to those frantic moments of finding him on the floor two months earlier. Of screaming for her younger brother, Jake, who as master distiller had just started the next batch of Dyer’s Medallion gin for the day. She’d frantically dialed 911 and balanced her phone beneath her ear while trying her best to deliver CPR to the man who had loved them so fiercely—who had been there for them ever since the accident happened fifteen years ago, when their mother had died a week after Emerson’s fifteenth birthday.

It hadn’t been enough.

The doctors had tried to reassure her there was nothing she could have done that would have saved him.

It had been eight weeks yet thinking about that day still had the ability to take her breath away. She’d never get to hear another one of his ridiculous dad jokes, tease him for his vast collection of blue shirts, or plant seeds with him in his greenhouse.

She swallowed deeply and tried to shake the image from her head. She’d barely stepped into his office since then, beyond grabbing the occasional piece of paperwork. Piles of unopened envelopes sat on the desk, and her stomach lurched at the thought of dealing with them. While it was hard to admit it to others, she knew she was overwhelmed. But the letter in her father’s will left her with no choice but to step into his shoes, shoes that were impossible to fill.

My darling Emerson, he’d written.

If you are reading this letter, it means I’ve gone exactly when I was meant to and way sooner than I hoped. I hope you know how proud I am of you. You have been my rock since your mom died, and now I have to ask you to be the glue once more. Jake and Olivia are going to need you more than ever. They’ll drift without you. You’ll all drift without each other. You have to run the distillery and keep everyone together. You are all each other has got. I have faith in you, Emsie-bobs.

With all my love,

Dad xxx

Her father had never realized it, but his belief in not owing anybody anything had put the family-owned distillery at risk without any savings net or loans to pad their expenses. Ever since their mother had died, her father had been terrified that something unexpected was going to happen to him. And the idea of the three of them being left with a business in debt was more than he could process. As a result, they had been running month to month because her father had remained entrenched in his position.

Every day was a struggle to balance it all.

“Knock, knock.” Jake burst through the door, running his hand through his shoulder-length, dark hair that matched her own. She envied the natural waves he’d been blessed with compared to her own pin-straight locks. “Wanted to catch you before you head out to the airport. Have you got the preliminary production schedule for the month?”

“It’s on my desk next door. I can’t believe it’s the start of October already,” she replied. “Are you sure you don’t want to switch places and go to the liquor awards in my place? You know you love San Francisco.”

Jake looked down at his gray jeans with holes in them and his black-and-red plaid shirt. “Not exactly dressed for it. And unless you want to do a twelve-hour production shift every day for the next three days, you’re the only one who can go.”

Emerson slipped her purse off her shoulder and pulled out the large black bags she brought with her. “I wish Liv felt better so she could go.”

At the beginning of June, a violent storm had ravaged the distillery’s events hall, leaving it partially roofless and flooded. They had been forced to close it and had done everything they could to accommodate all the weddings they had booked. The tasting room and bar in the main building had the same rustic ambience—red brick, faded wood, and a hint of contemporary in the bar and seating area, but it was designed for something a lot more intimate. Private tours, tastings, even the occasional book club. There had only been so many wedding parties that had been small enough to fit. They’d had to cancel the majority of weddings for the summer months. Losing out on peak season weddings had been ruinous to their cash flow. As damage control, her father, just before he’d died, had offered cancellations without loss of deposits to wedding parties as far out as March the following year, a decision that had exasperated Emerson.

As the distillery’s event planner, social media manager, and all-around administrator, Olivia had carried the brunt of informing all the wedding parties about the flood. They’d ranted, sworn at her, and even made threats against Olivia and the company. One groom had taken to stalking Olivia on her personal social media profiles. Dyer’s Gin Distillery’s social media pages had been flooded with hateful comments, fueling online trolls until it became too much for Liv. The deep depression and frightening levels of anxiety had shown signs of lifting as of late, but it was still too early to expect their youngest sibling to return to work.

“Me too. But we can keep it together until she gets back, right? You starting on Dad’s office?” he asked.

“I was going to, but now that I’m here, I don’t know if I can face it.”

In the past, when she’d thought about how her father would have handed over the reins to the three of them, she’d always imagined it would be at least a decade away and involve a big cake wishing her father a happy retirement. They would cut it on the production floor instead of in the office so everyone could be involved. They’d talk through her plans—the ones that included turning the distillery into a state of the art environmentally friendly masterpiece. He’d have tidied his office, removing the personal debris built up over a lifetime. The pictures of her parents’ wedding, of Jake holding a glass of his first distillation, of Olivia’s first wedding event, of Emerson’s graduation.

But now it was up to her, and she didn’t feel even close to being ready. She put her hands on her hips and looked at the piles of papers, the tchotchkes.

Jake threw his arm over her shoulder. “I have faith in you, Em.”

Her father’s letter had assured her the same. But somehow, she didn’t feel as though she deserved the faith placed in her.

Four hours later, Emerson was at the airport ready to board. “Ms. Dyer, there was a problem with seating a family together, so with your permission, I’d like to give you an upgrade,” said the attendant.

Doing a mental high five, Emerson smiled. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

The flight was only two and a half hours, long enough to have a drink to calm her nerves and perhaps watch a movie—anything to take her mind off the thousands of feet between her butt and the ground. Plus, she fully intended to embrace the time as her first period of enforced relaxation in months. Two and a half hours without calls, interruptions, or emails. Any work could wait until she was safely ensconced in her hotel that evening. She placed her laptop bag in the overhead compartment and slid her purse under the aisle seat in front of her.

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