The Potter's Daughter - A chapter each week - Complete Novel Available on Amazon

Chapter 6

“Sorry I’m late,” said Will.

“You're drunk!” said Abby.

Will’s eyebrows raised and his jaw dropped open.  Abby’s jaw clenched tighter.

“Are you Ok Uncle Will?” asked Caroline.

“Couldn’t be finer.”

Will reached into the truck, pulled out a bottle of wine, and then held the bottle into the air.

“I had two of these,” said Will, “one seemed to dry up.”

“Your intolerable Will Bellen!” snapped Abby.

Will was unfettered by Abby’s reaction to his entrance.

“Well if you are not going to invite me in, I’m coming in from the cold,” said Will and proceeded to the atrium choosing to tromp directly through the deep snow covered yard rather than by way of the driveway where the snow was clear.

Abby wanted to go back into the party and let Caroline deal with her father.  There would be no speaking to Will rationally.  Abby’s clenched jaw, ironically a trait from her father, made speaking tough.

When Will got to the steps of the porch he took them two at a time, though Caroline and Abby were not sure that was his plan.  He stumbled, almost dropping the wine, before setting the bottle on the top of the porch in front of him.

“Whoa,” said Will.

The women reached out their hands for Will then each grabbed an arm.  They pulled him to the top of the porch where he stood on his own balance.  The odor of smoked camels filled the porch and the women could see the purplish hue of Shiraz on Will’s lips.

Will bent over, picked up and then presented the bottle of wine to Caroline.  “So how are you this evening my dear Caroline?”

“Fine uncle Will.  Are you sure your ok?”

“Dandy.  What’s the weather like sunshine?”

“Partly cloudy, storm’s a comin’,” said Caroline.

 Will winked at Caroline, “So where’s the Birthday boy?”

“You have some explaining to do,” said Abby.

“He’s inside.  C’mon in, I’ll get him,” said Caroline.

Caroline opened the door and walked through.  Will moved to follow her and was stopped by Abby.

“Let me brush that snow off your legs,” said Abby.

“Ok, ok.”

Will had caked snow around the calves of his blue jeans tromping across the yard.  From the inside of the door Abby grabbed a small broom that was kept for that purpose and brushed the snow off for him.  When she finished Will lifted his cool crystal blue eyes to her and asked, “Are we ready now?”

“Yes, old man,” said Abby.  Her brows furrowed.

Will stepped into the atrium followed by Abby.  In a low voice to the back of Will’s ear Abby said, “I can’t believe you were driving drunk on Willow Lake Road.  You’re crazy.”

“It was fine,” said Will, “no unsafe conditions.”

Abby did not like him using that term.

Winding twenty-one miles around Willow Lake was Willow Lake Road.  Willow Lake Road many years ago had been a two-track road that after the war became a two-lane dirt road and on the map became County Road Twenty-Three.  Summer people did not like stones chipping away at their foreign cars so a few years later County Road Twenty-Three was coated with asphalt and on the map became Willow Lake Road.