Whiskey Reveals (Whiskey and Lies Book 2) Page 4

  And now he was once again letting his thoughts wander to every single thing except for what was important: his work. He was on his way to Ms. Pearl’s home where, hopefully, she would regale him with stories of her past and the rich life he knew she had led. Still led if he were honest. He didn’t want the story to just be a bullet point list of the people she had met or the places she danced before she came to their small Pennsylvania town. He wanted to hear the inflections in her voice and see the light in her eyes as she spoke about it so everyone could hear and see who she was when she had lived that life.

  He wanted to crack open the truth and find out more about this very interesting woman. And though it was his job as a reporter to sometimes dig beneath that first layer and find the ugly truths, he didn’t want this story to be about that either. He wasn’t in the habit of hurting those he wrote about, making them face something they would rather not confront again.

  Finding the delicate balance was a talent he had honed over time, and something he thought perhaps he could excel at one day. So he would tell this woman’s story and show the world that there was more to their neighbor than met the eye. And while doing that, he would make sure she knew that he valued her time and her life, and would do his best to honor the trust she was putting in him. Others had tried to interview her before, and she had said no. But for some reason, she had come to him with her story, even though he had been thinking about it before that. He was going to do his best to show her how grateful he was.

  That was how he found himself sitting in his car in her driveway, taking notes as he looked at her sprawling house that was set off one of the connecting streets off Main Street. Whiskey had one main thoroughfare where most of the shops and restaurants were located. It made it easy for tourists to walk from place to place, shopping and grabbing food and drinks as they filled the town’s coffers. The town survived on tourism, and he’d never take that for granted. His brother’s bar was right off Main Street, while Loch’s and Melody’s businesses, as well as his own, were off side roads that could all easily be seen from multiple directions off Main. The founding fathers of Whiskey had set each street at a diagonal, so it was easy to see the buildings that were in the direct line of Main Street. But that meant giving directions that had anything to do with north or south or even east or west was a little trickier than it should’ve been.

  Fox lived in a small house a couple of streets off Main Street. That meant he could walk to most of the establishments, as well as his job. He could’ve walked today, too, but he’d chosen to drive because rain was in the forecast, and he really didn’t want to get any of his notes or his computer wet.

  Ms. Pearl’s home was one of the original houses from back before Prohibition. The architecture in itself was art that took his breath away. Loch would probably know more about the exact era and everything that had to do with every single brick and turret, but Fox could still appreciate the beauty and history that came with the building. Ms. Pearl’s family wasn’t the original owner since she had bought the place from the great-great-great-grandchild of the original owner or something like that. But, now, she was her own history within the very historical town, and that was just one more thing he was going to try to portray to the best of his abilities in his piece.

  He didn’t take any photos since he knew he wanted to speak to her first and make sure they had laid out the ground rules before he started his article. But he had a feeling that past and present photos of the extraordinary woman wouldn’t be the only highlights of what he was about to write. Because her home was as eccentric and graceful as she was.

  He walked up to the door and rang the doorbell that made a loud gong sound, and he couldn’t help but smile. Of course, a house like this would have a very unique doorbell.

  Ms. Pearl opened the door herself, surprising him. For all her mystery and aura, he had figured she would have staff to do that for her. Instead, the woman herself, the subject of his piece, stood in front of him, all five feet of her looking as if she could take on the world even at her undisclosed age. One thing Fox did not plan to do was ask her age. Not only had he learned never to do that, his mother would also beat the hell out of him for even thinking about it. And he wanted to make sure that Pearl kept some air of mystery even if she told him a lot of her secrets so he could tell the world. He liked the idea that no one knew her exact age, and that she could’ve lived in any century, any era, and been the star of any of them. It could’ve just been his writer’s mind at work, but he didn’t care. He was going to thread that into the story and make sure the world knew that you could make a difference at any age.

  “Mr. Collins, I’m so glad you’re here. And on time. I really do love that in a man. And, boy, do I have stories to tell you about men who knew what to do with their time.” She winked, and he couldn’t help the deep belly laugh that came at her words. She joined him in laughter and took a step back, gesturing for him to enter the house.

  “Call me Fox.” He did his best to call her Ms. Pearl in his head, even though sometimes he couldn’t help but call her Pearl. He didn’t even know her surname because she had spent so long going by “Ms. Pearl” to the world, that everyone had just assumed it was her last name. But he knew that Pearl was her first name and that she kept her last name under wraps for only her family and her lawyer. Not that he knew too much about her family. That was one thing she had kept secret, and it was something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to unravel for her. There were some confidences that should be kept, and even as a reporter, he’d learned that lesson long ago.

  “Well, Fox. Welcome to my home.” At her words, he couldn’t help but look around and be entranced by the building he walked into. Someone, perhaps the woman herself, had taken great pains to restore every inch of the house. Large, arched, wooden columns stood by the doorway, creating an even grander entrance for those who walked beneath them. There were heavy drapes on the tall windows that practically took up the entire back wall across from where he stood. But the curtains didn’t look too ornate or fussy for the house. They had been drawn back so light filled the room and made the house look even larger—yet homier at the same time. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to describe the beauty and warmth of the house he now stood in. And while there were modern conveniences that he could spot throughout the home, there were still historical edges on every piece he could see. His mother would probably weep at the beauty of it and want to sit down and hear about every single inch of history and architecture. Her favorite shows were always the house-building and selling shows where they went back and restored some of the older homes rather than just carrying out what might not work now for modern convenience. He had a feeling the woman at his side and his mother would probably agree on a lot. And because he knew that his mom was a force to be reckoned with, he was a little afraid to ever introduce them beyond how they might know each other already. It was a small town, after all.

  “Your home is beautiful.”

  She beamed at him and looked even younger than she already did. Seriously, he had no idea how she could look so radiant for someone who had to be in her late seventies, if not older. Either a plastic surgeon with the skills of a god had gotten to her face, or she had won the lottery with care and genetics.

  He could still see laugh lines around her eyes and mouth, however. And for that, he knew he’d fallen just a bit more in love with Ms. Pearl—not that he’d ever tell her that.

  “Thank you,” she said, her smile reaching her eyes even more. “I find it beautiful, as well. Would you like a tour before we get started? I’m sure I can tell you a few things about the place, though my lawyer has every single inch detailed down to the bones if you would like that information. I find that a little too dry for my taste. I’m sure as I give you the tour, however, we can talk about the logistics of exactly what the two of us will be doing for the time being.” She took his outstretched arm and patted his bicep.

  She didn’t make her words sound sexual at all, but
he could hear an almost seductive quality to her tone. It isn’t sexual, he thought again, It was more that the woman was all warmth and smoothness like whiskey, wrapped around someone who knew exactly who she was, what she wanted, and how to get it. And he admired the hell out of her for it.

  “I think that can be arranged. I would love a tour. You know, the town has legends written and spread about this house and the woman who inhabits it. The fact that you keep the mystery well and true has only aided that myth.”

  She tossed her head back and laughed. “You know, I do spend my mornings with my cup of tea figuring out exactly how to weave my web of mystery and lies so the town has something to talk about. I’m a regular femme fatale.”

  “So I hear.” He said it so deadpan that Ms. Pearl stopped right in her tracks and gave him a look.

  “You know, I’m interested in hearing what kinds of stories you’ve already heard about me, Fox. I’m sure I have even juicier tales for you. Alas, I am merely an old woman locked in a dusty mansion, wandering about in my nightgown, scaring the small children of this quaint Pennsylvania town.”

  Fox couldn’t help the snort that escaped. “Unless you play that role on Halloween, I’m pretty sure nobody except the weirdest members of our town would actually believe that if I wrote it.”

  She shrugged as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Quite true. And I only played the woman in the attic once. Perhaps I will again this year just to see who screams at my mere presence. Now, let me see, what stories have you heard? Is it the time I danced for the king? What king? That will have to wait until we get to know each other a little bit more. Or was it the time I ran naked down the strip, the mob on my tail—so to speak—as I held two bags of money with large dollar signs printed on the front? At the time, I did not have the Clyde to my Bonnie, unless you’re hearing the wrong stories.”

  Fox shook his head, knowing she was playing with him, trying to figure out exactly how this interview would go. He didn’t mind that, and was well prepared. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had tough interviews before.

  “I’m guessing only part of that is true, even though I have heard both of those stories. When our town isn’t drinking whiskey and discussing the days of Prohibition and everything that came with that, they’re pretty much discussing exactly what happens with you. Or rather, what happened with you.”

  “That, and what happens to the Collins family. I hear congratulations are in order, not only for your little sister but for Dare, as well. I heard that right, didn’t I? Little Tabby is all married and having a baby with someone out in Denver? And our Dare has fallen for his innkeeper.” She gave him a somber look as she turned to face him. “I will say, as much as I joke about being the center of attention in this town, I truly wish the town hadn’t been forced to focus on what happened to them and the bar. Dare and Kenzie are okay though, right? I know Kenzie’s ex-husband is behind bars, but he deserves so much more than that for hurting that little girl.”

  That she’d called Kenzie a little girl just reiterated the fact that Ms. Pearl was ageless.

  Fox took her hand and gave it a slight squeeze. It seemed so fragile beneath his palm that he didn’t want to add any more pressure than he already had. “Kenzie and Dare are fine. They’re in love and talking about marriage and possibly more babies to add to the horde. The bar is fine after that slight incident, as well, and the asshole—pardon my French—who dared to think he could hurt my family is no longer a problem.”

  He clenched his jaw and forced himself to relax for fear he’d end up scaring the poor woman with how angry he got just thinking about those who’d come for his family.

  “I’m glad to hear it. Everybody deserves their happily ever after, even if it might not be quite what they thought it would be at first. Now, let me show you the house so we can talk about what kinds of stories will be told. And though I like to hear the embellishments that people speak of me, I do think, perhaps it’s time to air a bit of truth rather than just the mystery surrounding the myth.”

  He relaxed at her words and followed her around as she told him a little bit about the history of the building and talked about exactly what they were going to work on. It would take time, he figured. This wouldn’t be a one-and-done interview, not when it came to this woman and her life. She deserved far more than a simple byline about a woman who had a story to tell. Her words about truth rather than mystery couldn’t have made him happier. Because as much as he loved the larger-than-life idea of her, he really wanted to get to know the woman behind the coy smiles and the showgirl feathers.

  They were just about finished when Ms. Pearl gestured towards the living room once again, the sound of someone walking through the other side of the house hitting Fox’s ears. “I see my granddaughter is home. I’d love for you to meet her. She’s just moved to town to stay with me, and I’m thrilled. She’s a piece of my heart, you know. I’m honored that she’s taking time out of her life to spend it with an old woman.”

  A very familiar voice filled the air, and he did his best not to react. “Yes, because it’s such a chore spending time with my favorite person in the world. And I cannot believe you just called yourself an old woman.”

  Ms. Pearl winked and held out her arm. “Fox, I’d love for you to meet my granddaughter, Melody. Melody, this is Fox, that reporter I told you about.”

  Fox had no idea how Melody wanted to play this. Did she want her grandmother to know that the two of them had already met? No one else needed to know how intimately they knew each other, but keeping secrets from the start never ended well. He would let her decide what steps they took since this was her family and not his.

  “Hi, Fox, nice to see you again.” She smiled, but for some reason, it didn’t reach her eyes. From the pallor of her face, however, he had a feeling it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with how she was feeling. Was she sick? He would have to ask once he got time alone with her. He didn’t want to alert her grandmother and possibly worry her for no reason.

  “You two know each other? Really?” The older woman drew out the last word, and Fox had a feeling he was going to be in trouble if he weren’t careful.

  “Yes, Grandmother, we met at his brother’s bar when I first came to town to visit, and again at the same bar when I went to pick up my food. Dare’s onion rings are to die for.”

  “True,” Fox said, relieved that she was sticking to the truth if not the whole truth. He hated lying.

  “Though he didn’t ever mention to me that he was planning to report on you.”

  Fox held up his hands. “I didn’t know the two of you were related or I probably would’ve mentioned it.”

  “Oh, I know you would have. I was more worried about the fact that my grandmother never actually explained to me what kind of report you’re doing on her. I will not have her hurt, Fox.”

  “Melody,” Ms. Pearl chided.

  Fox shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I understand where she’s coming from. I’m not here to bamboozle your grandmother, try to steal her money, or tell lies about her. Ms. Pearl approached me about telling some of her life story. I say some, even though she didn’t because I have a feeling she wants to keep some secrets to herself. I’m fine with that because, unlike some reporters, I know there’s a line. I’m not going to hurt your grandmother, Melody. I can promise you that. She has lived a rich life and wants to share just a little bit of it. She’s an important icon to this town, and I’m honored that I get to show exactly what she means to this community—and possibly what this town means to her.”

  Melody’s eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t read, but it was Ms. Pearl who dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “I knew I chose the right person for the job.” She patted his shoulder and moved to kiss her granddaughter’s cheek. “Now, I must go take my nap because, sadly, I’m at that age where I need naps during the day. I take solace in the fact that children do the same when they’re of an age, as well. I look forward to seeing
you at our next meeting, Fox. I’ll have my people call yours to set it up.” Then she walked away, leaving Melody and him alone in the living room.

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets, unsure what to do with himself. “I didn’t know you’d be here. Truly.”

  Melody gave him a shrug, her face just as pale as he’d seen it when he first walked in. “I believe you. I’m just now realizing how small this town actually is.”

  He studied her face and frowned. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  She rolled her eyes, her back stiffening. “Just what every girl wants to hear. I’m fine, Fox. I’m sure my grandmother will have her people…since she actually has people, which I find fascinating, call you. Now you know where I live, and I guess since Loch knows where I work, you do, too. No need to hide from each other. I want to make Whiskey my home, and I don’t want to screw it up. Okay?”

  He nodded in understanding. She didn’t want to screw it up by screwing with him. He understood that. Honestly. Because they were only supposed to be together for one night. And now it seemed as if they would have to fight whatever attraction the two of them clearly had for each other to keep it just that one night. She didn’t want complications, and frankly, neither did he.