Inside the barn, the old-world ambiance continued with rough wooden floors and a large wrought iron chandelier, which was now draped with more fresh greenery and cranberries. A twelve-foot Christmas tree covered in white lights and red ribbon was the only other decoration in the tasting room.
Every tall table was filled with visitors, each sampling flights of the company’s various whiskey offerings. More tourists circled the barn. And that’s where she found Uncle Jack, right where she knew he’d be. Flirting with the line of women who flocked to him with interested smiles. He wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with the company logo. This was his domain. Gretchen’s father—Jack’s older brother—controlled the business side of the empire, but Jack was most at home here, surrounded by the craft itself.
She inched closer to the bar and elbowed her way through a group of women who had “fiftieth birthday party” written all over them.
“Hey, Uncle Jack.”
He looked up and grinned. “Well, this is a surprise.” He walked over to his left and lifted the hinged counter so he could come around. She walked into his embrace and breathed in the comforting scent of wood barrels and spice that always clung to him.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked, pulling back.
She grimaced. “I’ve been summoned to see Evan.”
“For what?”
“No idea. I was hoping you knew.”
Jack shook his head. “Not a clue.” He started patting her sides as if frisking her. “You got any weapons?”
“Just my killer wit.”
“That’s my girl,” he said with a final pat.
“That I am.”
He made the sad expression she’d come to know as Jack’s regret face, and not for the first time, she wished she knew why he’d never married and had children of his own. He would’ve been a great father. Instead, he showered all that love and attention on her.
She glanced around. “It’s crazy busy in here.”
“Christmas tourism.” He shrugged, then nodded to an open stool. “You got time to sit?”
Gretchen glanced at her watch. “Just a couple of minutes.”
He took the stool next to her. “How’s the clinic?”
“Good.”
He tilted his head. “Good?”
“What?”
“The only time I worry about you is when you’re not bitching about something.”
She shrugged. “It’s good.”
Jack shook his head again. “You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
He could always see right through her. Gretchen sucked in a deep breath and let it out quickly. “I’ve been offered a job in D.C.” She quickly explained the job and everything else Jorge had told her.
His eyes flickered with concern before he reeled it back in. “Are you going to go out for the interview?”
“No. I mean . . .” She shook her head. “No.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I am.”
“Then why are you telling me about it?”
Jack was the only person in the world she could be truly honest with, so she decided to unburden herself. “I wonder if I’m actually making a difference here.”
“Of course you are.”
“But for every client I help, there are ten more I can’t. It’s this never-ending cycle of bullshit and cruelty, and the only way to change it is to change the laws.”
As she talked, he nodded, his expression pensive. “Sounds like an incredible opportunity, Gretchen.”
Something akin to panic shot through her. He was supposed to be talking her out of it. “You think I should consider it?”
“I think you should always consider opportunities when they come your way.”
She forced a grin. “You sound eager to get rid of me.”
“You are a pain in the ass.”
She looked at her watch again. “I gotta run.”
They both stood, and Jack pulled her back in for another hug. “Keep me posted, okay?”
“I will.” She kissed his bearded cheek and turned around, the weight of his gaze heavy on her back as she walked out.
She drove to the corporate building farther up the road and parked in a visitor spot near the entrance, where a group of tourists in winter hats and gloves listened to a company tour guide explain their history. Gretchen waved as she ducked around the group. The tour guide blinked as if she recognized Gretchen’s face but couldn’t quite place her. She got that a lot. Any other member of the Winthrop family would’ve been treated like royalty, but Gretchen barely earned a second glance. Her reception wasn’t any warmer on the executive floor. Evan’s secretary, Sarah, greeted Gretchen with about as much enthusiasm as a museum docent facing a group of sticky, hyper kindergartners. She’d only been there a year but had quickly adopted Evan’s attitude toward Gretchen.