Page 60 of Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy 2)
“Ms. Kilgore, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard we have some fierce competition coming out o
f New Orleans thanks to you and Seven Sinners.” He shakes my hand with respect, and I remember what Mount told me.
Don’t, for a single second, put yourself in a category beneath anyone here.
I guess this is where I employ the fake it till you make it approach.
“Mr. Sullivan, it’s an honor. This is—” I turn to introduce Mount, but the CEO of Sullivan Distillery beats me to it.
“A man who needs no introduction.” Deegan Sullivan holds out a hand to Mount, and the man beside me shakes it. “It’s been a while, Mount. I’m assuming you got my case of whiskey as a thank-you?”
Mount nods, and my gaze darts between the two men like they’re playing table tennis.
Mount knows Deegan Sullivan? Why am I even surprised?
“I did.”
Deegan looks down at Mount’s T-shirt. “But it seems your whiskey tastes have changed. I’m not sure you’ll be impressed by what we have to offer at our tasting today.”
Mount holds both hands palms up at his sides with a twitch of a grin. “I’m NOLA born and bred. It isn’t a stretch to figure where my loyalties lie. Either way, this visit isn’t about me. Ms. Kilgore is ready for her tour, so I hope you’re on your game, Deegan.”
“Of course. It’s Keira, right? I insist we dispense with the formalities.”
“Yes, Keira. And that’s fine. I have to admit I’ve been following your progress for a few years.”
“And I yours. Making whiskey in the Irish tradition in New Orleans is certainly a way to catch people’s attention.”
“Some people’s, I suppose.”
“Would you like to see the distillery? We don’t have any other tours for several hours, so we’ve got the place to ourselves.”
“Absolutely,” I reply as excitement bubbles up inside me.
“Since you’re already a bit of an expert, I’ll spare you the full lecture and we’ll head right for the good stuff.”
When Deegan pushes open a large door, the heat from the stills instantly hits me in the face, reminding me of Seven Sinners. We climb a flight of stairs to a metal catwalk that gives us a view of the whole operation in a single room. At Seven Sinners, due to the age of the distillery building, ours isn’t so well organized.
“We get several deliveries a week of grain, and malted and unmalted barley, and we use special conveyers to transport it from the silos to the wet mill.”
“Isn’t that more normal for a brewing operation than a distilling operation?” I ask, mainly because I’ve been toying with the idea myself. But when I brought it up to my father last year, he dismissed it immediately.
“We’re all about efficiency, and we find that works much better.”
I walk to the edge of the platform, leaning over the railing to study the mill more closely. “I appreciate efficiency as well, but my father . . .” I trail off and find Deegan nodding as I glance back at him.
“Sometimes when you take the reins, you have to quit listening to what the older generation has to say. When the only answer they give you is because it’s tradition, I’m of the opinion that technology probably has a better solution.”
I’ve gone against my father’s opinions several times, the first time with the massive bank loan and remodel. Changing the guts of the operation—other than switching to organic grain—is something I’ve never considered. But, apparently, I should.
Deegan moves to the next stage of the process. “I’m sure you recognize mash when you see it and smell it.”
I inhale the familiar scent and ask a few questions about their temperature and timing, and Deegan is surprisingly open with his answers.
“I don’t need to explain to you that the liquid is separated so we can send the wort into the fermenters, and the spent grain is used for animal feed.”
I smile. “Yeah, I do have the basics down.”
“More than, I’m sure.”
