“What’s he going to do, then?” I asked.
“Do you know about Winthrope Manor?” Seth asked.
I frowned. “I’ve just heard of it from Ewan and his pals. They said Ferris Brown bought it. He plans to restore it, too.”
“That’s right.” Isla hopped in place. “And it’s a massive undertaking. He needs the very best workers to bring the house back to life. He just hired Seth to work on the construction team. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Construction? Have you worked construction before?” I asked Seth.
“No, but I’m willing to learn. Ferris is willing to give me a shot. I think this could really be my calling. I mean, what man doesn’t want to say he can work with his hands? I want to be able to make a home one day.” He held out his hands, looking at them, and smiled at my sister. “I would never have been able to do it if it weren’t for Isla, who is always telling me to follow my heart.”
“But what about the job at the school?” I squeaked. I knew being a janitor might not have the glory Seth craved, but it was solid, reliable work.
He shook his head. “I quit that a week ago. I just wasn’t enjoying it. I can’t work at a job I don’t enjoy. Life is too short for that.”
I bit my tongue, because what I wanted to say was work wasn’t always about enjoyment. Sometimes it was about making money to feed yourself and, in his case, his someday wife.
I bit down just a little harder on my tongue and reminded myself of something Presha had said to me several times since Isla moved to Scotland. “Isla is an adult and has to make her own life. You aren’t her mother.” I had never been her mother, of course, but at times if had felt like I was. I was older than her by eight years, and because our parents had been occupied with the business of running a working farm, a lot of Isla’s upbringing had been left up to me. I was the one who’d taught her to ride a bike, tie her shoes, and read, so I was more than a little protective of my younger sister. I wished I could put her in a bubble to save her from making any mistakes that could hurt her chances of a perfectly happy life, but I knew a perfectly happy life wasn’t possible for anyone and life in a bubble would be no life at all.
I took a breath. “I’m happy for you, Seth, that you found work you’re finally excited about doing. I hope you enjoy working with Ferris. I know him from the Merchant Society of Bellewick, and he is a good man.”
“Thank you, Fiona. That means a lot.” By the way he said it, I gathered that he knew I wasn’t his number-one fan. Maybe Seth was more observant than I’d given him credit for.
“I’m proud of him too!” Isla said.
Seth smiled at her and looked back to me. “I want to work with my hands. If all goes well, I will go into construction full-time. I just have to try it out to see if I have a connection to the work, and I know there are greener ways of building and remodeling. I really think this is the field I should be in.”
“Connection?” I asked.
“You have to be connected to your work to find joy in it,” he said. “You have that with your flowers.”
“So you don’t know if you will continue with it. I mean, there is no guarantee you will have a connection when you get started.” Despite my wish to let Isla live her own life, the words popped out of my mouth. I was taking Presha’s advice to heart, but, it seemed, only in little bits at a time.
Isla rolled her eyes. “Fiona, if it were up to you, everything would come with a guarantee.”
“I just think it’s not a bad idea to be cautious.”
Isla snorted. “Like running after murderers is cautious.”
Her words stung because I knew they were true.
“Seth has made a great choice, and I want him to finally meet Mom and Dad.”
“When?” I asked.
She rubbed her hands together as if she had been waiting for me to ask all day. “You will bring Mom and Dad to the Winthrope Manor just like you are showing them around Aberdeen. Seth and I will already be there. Seth can show us around and tell us the plans for the estate. It will be perfect, because they will get to see what a hard worker he is. You know how much hard work means to Mom and Dad.” She rolled her eyes. “Must be all that farming.”
It was true that working hard was at the top of our parents’ list of must-haves in other people.
Isla jumped up and down. “This will be perfect. Mom and Dad will get to meet Seth at this beautiful house, and they will love him. I just know it.”
“Are you sure you want me to go? Maybe it would be better if the four of you did this alone,” I said.
Isla was still unaware of the tension between me and our parents, and I was going to do my best to keep it that way until things were more settled. Then I would have a heart-to-heart with my sister about it all.
She put her hands on her hips. “But you’re my sister, and I need your support.”
I nodded. I couldn’t argue with her when she put it like that. “I’ll do it.”
Seth smiled at her. “And if they are anything like you, babe, I know I will love them too.”
Isla grinned from ear to ear.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Isla and Seth seemed in no hurry to leave the beach, and feeling like the third wheel that I was, I slipped away, muttering something about needing to get home. Not that they heard me; they were intertwined in a tight embrace.
I thought I would make one last attempt to see if my parents had returned to Thistle House. I figured stopping in to see if they were back made sense, as the guesthouse was on my way to the small community lot where I’d parked my car.
I huddled down into my coat as I walked back through Bellewick’s cobblestone streets. On a cold evening like this, it was easy to imagine myself as a character in a Dickens novel as I walked by the two-hundred-year-old and sometimes even older buildings on my way to the village entrance. Thistle House’s garden was lit up with white twinkle lights that had been strung from the young trees in the small space. It gave the quiet garden an ethereal glow. As far as I knew, this tiny garden wasn’t magical, but it certainly looked like it had the potential to be.
Unsurprisingly, due to the chill in the air, the garden was empty. I hurried around the front of the stone guesthouse and came around the corner just in time to see a woman leave through the front door. I froze. It was the reporter Trina Graham. I ducked behind the corner of the building before she could see me. I didn’t want to answer any more of her intrusive questions about the murder.
I peeked around the side as Trina dug through her purse. Maybe she was looking for her car keys, I guessed. She was alone. The cameraman was nowhere around, as far as I could see.
She yanked the keys out of the depths of her bag just as the front door opened. A man stepped out, and he was holding a scarf. “You forgot this.” He held it out to her.
She smiled and took the scarf from his hand. “Thank you, Jamie, and thank you and your brother for taking the time to interview with me.”
“Anytime. Barley’s death deserves your coverage, and as members of his band, we were a big part of his life.”
I could see Trina clearly in the light by the guesthouse door, but Jamie was in the shadows.
“Can I ask you a question off the record, since you refused to answer it on the record?” Trina asked.
“Shoot,” Jamie said.
“Do you think Kenda Bay is capable of murder?”
I saw Jamie’s shadow move in a shrug. “Maybe. She and Barley had a difficult relationship. My brother and I had many sleepless nights listening to them scream at each other after a concert.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your honest answer, even though I promise not to use it in my reporting.”
His shadow shrugged again. “Anytime.”
I had a feeling Kenda wouldn’t be too happy with her bandmate when it got back to her that Jamie thought she was capable of murder, and I had no illusions that it wouldn’t get back to her. I guessed Trina might not quote Jamie about this detail of he
r interviews, but what he said would work its way into the case one way or another.
Trina said goodbye and then walked at a fast pace toward the community lot. Jamie went back inside the guesthouse. I hesitated and wondered if now was really a good time to ask after my parents.
I removed my phone from my pocket and texted them again.
“If I knew you were coming here anyway, I would have had you deliver our order.”
I yelped, and the phone flew out of my hands into the bushes beside the guesthouse. I spun around to find the second MacNish brother, Lester, standing just behind me. He held a takeaway bag from the Twisted Fox. Indian spices wafted from the bag.
He held up his free hand. “Steady there. I didn’t mean to scare you. Everyone is so jumpy in this village.”
His comment made me wonder who else he had scared half to death.
“Are you here delivering more food? I wouldn’t put it past my brother to order extra. We might be the same size, but that guy can eat me out of the water.”
For what felt like the fiftieth time, I said, “I don’t deliver food for the Twisted Fox.”
“But you did.” He cocked his head.
“I was doing my friend Raj a favor.”
He shrugged.
I had a feeling that the MacNish brothers shrugged a lot. It was difficult for me to believe they were passionate about anything, including Barley’s murder.
“I guess it’s for the best that I went down there myself.” He moved the food bag to his other hand. “I ran into some old sailor, and they were able to tell me a lot about my family history. I can’t wait to tell Jamie.”
“Are you from Aberdeenshire?” I asked, surprised.
He shook his head. “Not personally, but my mother’s family lived here until about sixty years ago. The old sailor was able to tell me quite a bit about my mother’s clan. He gave me advice to find out even more, too.”
“Was the old sailor Popeye?” I asked.
“Now that you mention it, one of them looked a whole lot like Popeye. Is that his real name?”
I shook my head. “And I wouldn’t call him that to his face, if I were you. I have a feeling it wouldn’t go well.”
He nodded. “Duly noted. I don’t want to do anything that might dry up a valuable source of information.” He shifted his stance.
I nodded. To me, Lester and Jamie seemed awfully young to be so interested in their family history, but I supposed that, with all the genetic DNA testing now available for finding out one’s heritage, genealogy was trendy. “What other advice did Popeye give you?”
“He told me to look up a county historian. He said the man knows everything there is to know about the history and people of Aberdeenshire.”
I swallowed. There was only one man I knew who fit that description. “Carver Finley?”
He perked up. “Do you know him?”
“I do.”
“Oh wow, can you introduce us to him?” he asked excitedly.
“I don’t think that’s a great idea. You’d be much better off if Popeye or even Raj makes the introduction.”
“All right,” he said, sounding confused.
I didn’t say anything.
“Did I see that reporter leaving the guesthouse just when I arrived?”
I nodded. “She was talking to your brother.”
He sucked in a breath. “My brother was talking to a reporter about Barley?”
I stepped back. His mood had shifted so dramatically that I didn’t know what he might do. I mentally adjusted my assumption that the MacNish brothers weren’t passionate.
“He shouldn’t be talking to the press. It’s bad for—it’s bad for our careers. We need to know if the record label will keep us on without Barley. Jamie shouldn’t say anything that could jeopardize that.”
“You want to branch out without Barley?”
“’Course we do. Any musician worth his salt wants to make his own name. If he tells you otherwise, he is lying.” He paused. “And we have no choice but to branch out now, considering …”
This was interesting, as I remembered what Kenda had said about the brothers not caring about their music and barely practicing. I wondered which of them was telling the truth and why it was worth lying about at all.
“Good night,” Lester said. “I need to get this food in before Jamie calls me.”
I stepped back and watched him go. I dug my cell phone out of the bushes just as it beeped, telling me I had an incoming text. It was to both Isla and me.
We are back at the Thistle House. All is well. Your father and I had a lovely tour of the countryside. Will see you girls tomorrow. We are off to bed. Love, Mom.
I smiled. Anytime my mother sent a text, she had the need to sign it Love, Mom, and I knew despite everything that it was true and that she did love Isla and me.
Another text message appeared in the conversation, Isla telling our parents about the visit to Winthrope Manor the next day and that I would be taking them there. I frowned at the screen.
That would be perfectly lovely. We will be there. Love, Mom.
It looked like there was no way I was getting out of my sister’s plan now.
Even though I hadn’t seen Mom and Dad with my own eyes, I considered my reason for stopping by the Thistle House tonight as mission accomplished. They were safe. That’s all that mattered. My father being a murder suspect could wait until tomorrow. It was time to return to Duncreigan and to the garden yet to be saved.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When I woke up the next morning, I realized Isla’s plan for a little outing with our parents wasn’t a bad idea. I couldn’t remember the last time the four of us had been together on a day off even when we all lived within a thirty-minute drive from each other. Between our busy lives and my parents’ farm, there hadn’t been much time for family bonding, and it had never been a priority with my parents that I could remember.
Ivanhoe followed me out of my bedroom in the cottage, and I stopped and looked at the rose in the water bowl. It was still bright yellow. I touch it with the tip of my index finger, and it bobbed in the water. As I did, a view of the garden, green, alive, and blooming, flashed across my mind. I pulled my hand away, and the vision was gone. Was it a vision or wishful thinking?
I touched the rose again, but this time nothing happened. I scooped it out of the water and held it in my hand. “Come on, work. Please work.”
Nothing.
Maybe it hadn’t been a vision at all, but I had to know for sure. As much as it pained me to see the garden dead, I put on my puddle boots and walked out of the cottage and down the hill toward the garden. I was yards away when I saw that the garden was still in trouble. The ivy on the walls was withered and dry. The vision or whatever it had been when I touched the rose wasn’t showing me the current state of the garden.
Ivanhoe, who was walking with me to the garden, bolted ahead of me.
“Ivanhoe, wait!”
He didn’t stop. The garden door was open, and he dashed inside. I ran after him. The soles of my boots slipped on the smooth rocks poking out of the earth. I came to the garden door and held on to the frame.
I looked down at the cat. What had made him run? He was crouched down a few feet from the open door. I scanned the garden for a bird or animal that Ivanhoe would want to catch. The only thing I saw was my poor dead garden.
I bent down to pick up Ivanhoe, and he hissed. I retracted my hand.
He looked up at me, the fur on his back settled down, and he mewed as if seeing me for the very first time.
“Ivanhoe?”
He mewed again, and I picked up the cat and held him to my chest. He snuggled against me. His little heart was beating out of his chest. Something had frightened him, but I had no idea what.
I stepped farther into the garden, and he started to shake. His claws came out and dug into my coat.
“Okay, okay,” I whispered, and backed out of the garden with the cat still in my arms.
/> After his little episode, I couldn’t leave Ivanhoe at Duncreigan alone, and I knew Hamish wasn’t going to care for him because of Duncan. I packed up his food, cat bed, and favorite toys, and took those and the cat into the village with me.
Presha was standing outside the front door of the Climbing Rose when I carried Ivanhoe and his possessions to the shop from the village lot.
She folded her arms when she saw the cat. “What is he doing here?”
Presha had agreed to watch the flower shop for me while one of her workers minded her tea shop so that Isla and I could have our little outing to the manor with our parents. As usual, she wouldn’t let me pay her. I would have to figure out a way to compensate her for everything she had done for me over the last few months. She and her brother Raj always refused to take money from me, and I ate at one or the other’s place at least four times a week. I gave them flowers all the time, but there had to be something else I could do for them. In many ways, they were now my Scottish family. It wasn’t lost on me that they were Indian. Perhaps they were my modern Scottish family as the United Kingdom, like the United States, became increasingly more diverse.
“What is that puff of fur doing here?” she asked again as I unlocked the door with one hand. It was no easy feat, considering I had Ivanhoe and all his possessions in the other arm.
I let the three of us into the shop and set the cat and his bag on the floor. Ivanhoe immediately began to nose around the shop, stopping to smell all the new blooms.
I told her about Ivanhoe’s odd behavior that morning.
“I’d say that’s good, child.”
I looked at her. “Good.”
“The magic is fighting to come back.”
I wondered over what Presha had said as I walked to the Thistle House to collect my parents.
When I approached Thistle House, Kenda was sitting outside the guesthouse smoking a cigarette. She held it up to me. “I bet you are thinking that no one smokes these anymore. I guess I’m living proof that’s not true.” She took another drag and blew smoke out the side of her mouth. “And before you say anything like they are bad for me, I have been under a lot of strain. The man I loved is dead and I’m a suspect in his murder. My career is probably over, and I can’t leave this too-perfect little Scottish village until the police let me go.”
Mums and Mayhem Page 15
