Matthews nodded. “Exactly right.”
“And even blend stuff from other countries, at different stages of production.”
“Yes, indeedy.”
“And create different collections, as you go. Limited editions.”
“Very limited.” Matthews beamed. He snapped his fingers and pointed one at Joel. “You got your daddy’s business mind, son. I’ll give you that.”
Joel looked at all the barrels. It didn’t seem to faze him that a stranger might know who he was. Then again, Matthews had probably already picked it out of his halo. Or maybe he was just used to it. “Do you follow the harvests?”
“Mostly. It’s October, so I’m about to go collect some Alberta wheat from the east coast. Montréal is our next port of call.”
Rivaudais cleared his throat. “That reminds me.” Rivaudais nodded at Hwa. “I have a message I’d like Captain Matthews to relay to a mutual associate of ours.”
Hwa nodded. She steered Joel down the aisle toward the sampling barrels. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“This is really interesting.” Joel’s gaze remained on the barrels stacked high into the darkness. “Thank you for bringing me.”
“You think it’s interesting now, wait ’til you taste it,” Hwa said.
“I thought you said you didn’t drink.”
“I don’t drink beer. The average serving of beer has as many calories as a candy bar.”
“Do you like drinking?”
Hwa had never heard it put quite that way before. “I guess. I like having been drinking.”
“Is it really all that fun? Because it seems like it just makes people stupid.”
“Being stupid is fun, sometimes.”
“Is it like sex? Because everyone acts like it’s really important, but it just seems…” He wrinkled his nose. “Messy. And possibly painful.”
Hwa swallowed in a dry throat. She reminded herself that she was a grown-ass woman much older than Joel. She was the adult. She could handle this. Hwa spotted the tap kit and picked up her pace. “If we’re going to keep talking about this, we’re going to have to start drinking.”
She picked a bourbon aged in cherrywood casks that promised a medium-bodied drink with notes of heather, vanilla, clove, and leather. At that particular moment, she would have taken hull cleaner. She opened the tap and poured off two measures into tiny sampling glasses.
“These glasses look funny,” Joel said.
“They’re antique insulators.” Hwa peered at the glasses to make sure they were equal. “Like on old transformers.”
“Cool.” Joel took down all his bourbon in one drink. There was one terrible moment when he looked like he’d swallowed a bunch of broken glass. His eyes watered. His lips puckered. Then he coughed so hard he had to bend over. “What the hell is that?”
Hwa took a more delicate—ladylike, even—sip of hers. “It’s a medium-bodied bourbon, with notes of heather, vanilla, clove, and leather.”
“It tastes like licking my dad’s desk chair.”
“Your tongue ages along with the rest of your body, you know. So you taste different stuff as you get older.” Hwa checked the PO for Rivaudais’s bar. “Huh. You lucked out. We’re not moving too many cases.”
Joel goggled at her. “That’s what we’re here for? To move product?”
“Aye. Rivaudais owns a bar. This is a place that distills alcohol and sells it wholesale. What did you think we were at?”
Joel pointed at the two insulator caps in her hands. “Sampling!”
It was hard to make a pshaw motion when both her hands were full of pricey artisanal bourbon. “Come on. You wanted to lift weights? These are the weights.”
Joel now looked significantly less impressed with the whole operation. “Don’t they have people for that?”
“Yes. Us. We’re the people.” Hwa had a feeling this second sample would taste a bit better with some ice. It needed more time to open up. Where it was once sharp and grassy and green, it now tasted more heady and floral. She took a picture of the barrels with her specs. She wanted to remember this one.
“You’ve got good taste,” Captain Matthews said, from down the aisle. “That one’s special to me. We used rainwater from Ireland.”
Hwa gave him what she knew to be a very skeptical look.
“No, really! We have catchment clients. My water taster said it really made a difference.”
“Your water taster is robbing you blind,” Hwa said.
“So it’s not a great batch?”
“Of course it’s a great batch. But the water makes no difference. It’s all the barrels.” She stuck her tongue out. “I’m a hundred percent organic. I know these things. I taste better than other people.”
Matthews leaned against some barrels. Dimples appeared in his smile. “Well, now. That’s quite the claim.”