Chapter 45

“What’re you thinking, Maddy?” Grady asked. Jessica and Maddy were both emerging from their fugue when Grady asked his question. Jessica had a beautiful smile on her face, like all her concerns had dovetailed into an executable plan. Grady was confident he was not witnessing ecstasy, for he had seen that face raw and lusty.

Maddy’s face was different; thoughtful and considered were the words Grady would use to describe what he saw. He invited them to dismount as he retrieved water bottles and apples from his saddle bag. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and reseated his hat.

“From where I’ve been observing you, Grady, I’m perplexed. The numbers made it clear that you were up to something out here, something far more complex than your grandfather. He was no slouch. I met some of your love interests and friends, and I wondered if you were creating a polyamorous family or a harem. The pieces did not fit that scenario. The cult idea, especially with you gobbling up the Eastside Evangelical Church and dismantling it, was easy to dismiss.

Now I understand that I was thinking too small, too local for lack of a better word. You’re terribly young for what you’re attempting, which was also confusing. I’m one of four people who know your net worth. I went to add two plus two and was confronted with a problem worthy of a math professor.”

“We keep things on a need-to-know basis,” Grady said. “You wanna sit?”

Jessica spread out the blanket and following Grady’s lead, they took off their boots and sat. He retrieved a plastic container of cheese and crackers and placed it before them. They munched quietly for a few minutes, tuning into the sounds of the land around them.

“What’s up with my accounting firm?” Grady finally asked. He had been waiting since he first made the offer to ask for the gory details.

“They play upfront and safe with your accounts, but among themselves they’re greedy,” Maddy said. “Their wives are ever vigilant, not trusting their husbands or the gold-seeking hussies who might be lurking. If it wasn’t ludicrous, I would find the entire firm maddening. I’m on the danger list because I’m divorced, twice.”

Jessica perked up. “You didn’t make partner because their wives were suspicious?”

“Partnerships are always more complicated. We’re talking huge salaries and bonuses alongside the paranoia,” Maddy said. “It doesn’t matter that these men are not my type. I’m panting after Olympic swimmers in their teeny-weenie little suits or European football leaguers with their sweaty forwards. Doughy accountants with bellies threatening to break over their belts in their octogenarian polo shirts are immediate lust killers. What gives these aging relics an erection is their personal ledgers, conspicuous consumption, and manufactured eye candy. Yech.”

“You’re not a good match for partnership in this firm,” Jessica said. “Which do you prefer: fine wine, gin or whiskey?”

“You don’t move to Jasper County if you like to seek fine wine,” Maddy said. “Even the ski resorts’ wine lists are pedestrian, an afterthought. I like my bourbon. I like my bourbon more buttery than sharp and with an orange peel resting at the bottom of the glass.”

Grady looked at her. “I guess Jack Daniels is...”

“ ... a beginner’s best guess,” Maddy finished his sentence. “If your liquor tastes better mixed with soda, you’re going in the wrong direction. Even more, Grady, you cannot pick up a decent bottle and know immediately whether it is good or not good on your palate. Learning to identify and drink good liquor according to your taste buds takes time and some money. The topper on the cake is that your taste buds change throughout your life. What you enjoy now will change in five or ten years. A good drink is a moving target.”