by Avery James
"What changed?" Abby asked. It was hard to imagine this town falling upon hard times. It seemed like one of those places that existed beyond the ordinary world, protected by charm or fortune from the misfortunes of the outside.
"Investors," Nolan said. "I guess they found something worthwhile in the place."
"Investors? Sounds vague."
Nolan laughed and shrugged. "It's good to see the town doing so well. Come on, you’re on my turf now, Yank,” he said. The way he brushed off the question made her wonder what he was hiding. Maybe his family was involved in the revitalization. Maybe it was him. That seemed a decidedly Nolan thing to do: leave a place, pretend to forget about it, and nurture it from afar.
“I can safely say that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me that,” she said.
“It’s my turn to show you my town,” he said. “And I have just the rooftop picked out,”
“Isn’t it a little wet outside?”
“It was a joke,” he said. “Here, in the British Isles, we drink inside.”
“Isn’t it a bit early?” It wasn’t even noon.
“Tea,” he said. “I know you said you wanted to go."
“Don’t look now, but we’re being watched,” Abby said.
“And who exactly is watching us?”
“Two guys, younger, across the street." They had cameras around their necks.
"Probably just sightseers," he said. "We just got here, Abs."
"They immediately looked away."
"See, if they were paparazzi, they would have rushed towards us." He took her hand and pulled her into a shop. A bell above the door rang as they entered. An old woman was knitting behind the counter. The air was warm and still, but the scent of cinnamon hung sweet around them. "Are they looking now?" he asked. He walked up to a wall lined with shelves. There must have been a hundred different styles of scarves, or patterns. Nolan dragged his finger along the shelf until he found what he was looking for. He grabbed the scarf and tossed it to Abby. "Ross family tartan. If you come home wearing that, my parents will love you forever."
"Talk about a commitment," Abby said as she wrapped it around herself. It was incredibly soft, and she smiled as she rubbed it against her cheek.
"Sorry if I was overreacting about the guys outside. You're right, it's probably nothing," she said.
Nolan looked out the window to where the two men had been. "They usually just want to get their picture and go on with their day, but it's a bit different over here than in the US. If they were what you think they were, we might be better off getting our tea to go."
"I thought you were buddy-buddy with the paparazzi.”
"I don't mind making a spectacle of myself, Abby, but I would never ask you to do that."
Nolan walked up to the counter and pointed to Abby's scarf. "One please," he said. He pulled some bills out of his pocket to pay.
"Mr. Ross, how are you?! I heard rumors you'd be back in town." the woman asked. She somehow managed to sound excited without even looking up from her knitting.
"I'm very well, thank you," he said. "You wouldn't happen to have another exit in the back, would you?"
"Of course," she said. "Right through there." She tilted her head towards a door in the back corner of the shop. Again, she didn't look up from her knitting. Nolan placed some more bills down and thanked the woman before ushering Abby through the back entrance. "Let's see if that loses them," he said.
For a while, it seemed like it had. On the next street over, they stopped in two more shops before reaching the tea room, which was in one of the most distinctive buildings Abby had ever seen. Its walls followed the path of two intersecting streets so that it most closely resembled a triangle. Inside, big banks of windows on one wall looked out onto a small square. A stone church tower dominated the view on the far end, and there was a roundabout that ran through the middle of the square. On the other wall, smaller windows looked over a side street at the base of a steeply pitched hill.
"Proper tea," he said. As they found a seat, Nolan kept his eyes on her. "I think we're the youngest here by about thirty years," he whispered.
Abby scanned the room. "Wrong," she said. "There's a couple our age right over there." She nodded towards the back of the tea room. A pretty brunette and her tall boyfriend were giggling at each other as they looked at a three-tiered tea tray. They were wearing matching sweatshirts with a cartoon Loch Ness Monster on them.
Nolan turned and looked. "Americans. You should say hi."
"How do you know they're Americans?"
"To start, they're both wearing souvenir sweatshirts," he said.
"So only Americans do that?"
"Well, it means they're not from around here. The fact that they're taking pictures of the tea tells me it’s novel. So they're probably not English either. He could pass for a Scot, but she really wouldn't. Actually, her hair is a bit like yours. I mean they could be from anywhere, but my guess is the states."
"Want to make a bet?"
"Sure," he said. "Whoever loses has to buy me dinner next week."
"You mean has to buy the winner dinner," she said.
Nolan smiled. "Like I said, me."
"You're cocky," she said. "Has anyone ever told you that?" She expected a pithy response from Nolan, but his attention was somewhere else. It took her a moment to follow his gaze outside. The two paparazzi had somehow become a dozen, and they were walking up and down the sidewalks in a group, presumably looking for Nolan.
"So much for a relaxing day in town," he said. "I'll go deal with them."
"Don't worry about it," she said. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bet to win." She looked over to the couple. The girl was looking right back at her, or rather, was looking right at Nolan. Her eyes darted away as soon as she noticed Abby looking. If she knew who Nolan was, there was a good chance she could be from England.
She crossed the room and stopped at the couple's table. "Excuse me, my boyfriend and I couldn't help noticing your sweatshirts, and we were wondering where you got them."
"Is that Nolan Ross?" the girl asked in an unfortunately American accent. Damn, looked like Nolan was right. "Is he your boyfriend? I thought he was dating that blonde. Honey, see, I told you it was him."
Abby shook her head and then raised a finger to her lips. "We're trying to keep things quiet."
"Of course," the girl said. "I like your scarf, by the way."
"The shirts are from down the road," the boyfriend said in a thick brogue, "a place called The Scottish Store. It's a wee bit o' a tourist trap."
YES, Abby thought. "I love your accent," she said. "Is it from around here?"
"Aberdeen," he said. "But we live in Philadelphia, met in school. I'm taking her to meet me parents."
"Have a wonderful day," Abby said.
When she got back to the table, she could barely contain her excitement. "We were both right," she whispered. "But since your take was they were both definitely American, I was more right."
“I remember saying he could pass for a Scot.”
“Do you really want to argue this? You’re going to lose.”
“I guess I owe you dinner then," he said. "What do you think of Thai?"
"Let me guess, in Thailand?" Abby said.
"Well, now that you say it…" he replied as the waitress came over to their table.
Nolan theorized more elaborate dinner destinations while they waited for their order to arrive. Michelin star restaurants in Paris, Milan, and Buenos Aires, a picnic at Machu Picchu, slopeside appetizers in Zermatt. There seemed to be no limit to the amount of money and effort he could lavish on her in his head.
"If only we didn't have jobs," she said. As she spoke, she remembered for the first time that day the world of trouble she was in back in D.C. and the mess she'd have to clean up when she got back.
"If only," Nolan said. "We could always just quit it all and become hermits."
"I think when you have your kind of money, they just
call you a recluse."
"Where's the fun in that?" Nolan asked.
He was right though, there was a certain romance to the idea of running away together. It seemed so much easier, simpler. Without the complications of their day to day lives, there was nothing keeping them apart, nothing keeping her from falling in love with him. Maybe she was falling in love with him. The whole question of it had hung over them since his declaration at the hotel. He hadn't brought it up again, but that didn't mean she’d forgotten. How could she? He, Nolan Ross, god's gift to womankind, had fallen in love with her, and was doing absolutely everything right. And she had fallen for him. She knew it. Deep down, she could feel the irresistible truth of it.
She was in love with him.
When that had become a fact, she didn't know, but she couldn't deny it any more than she could deny the solidity of the ground beneath her feet. She wanted to tell him, but she didn't know how. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe she didn't know if she could.
What would happen when this trip was over and they went back to their lives? She worked all the time. They didn't even live in the same city. She felt like she was making a checklist to dissuade herself from making a mistake, but what if saying nothing was the real mistake?
"Hey, Abby," Nolan said, "You're going to miss all the fun." He nodded towards the teapot on the table and the tiered tray of baked goods that had arrived. There were scones and creampuffs and biscuits, and a few types of pastry she’d never seen before. "You were kind of lost in thought."
"Yeah," she said. She tried to bring herself back into the moment as Nolan poured her a cup of tea. She took the cup and held it up. "Cheers." As she sipped the tea, the room seemed to darken a bit, like when the sun goes behind a cloud.
“You ready for tomorrow?” he asked.
“I still don’t know much about it,” she said.
“It’ll be nice,” he said. “It’s family and friends, and it’s our way of remembering him. I’m really glad you came, by the way. My parents were a bit surprised when I told them.”
“That you’re dating an American?”
“That I invited you here. I’ve never done that before,” he said. “I’ve had girlfriends meet my parents before, but I’ve never asked anyone to come to this memorial. It just always seemed too personal.” He half smiled, and looked off. “It means a lot that you’re here.”
She reached across the table and held his hand. Her heart felt full enough to burst.
After a few minutes, Nolan pulled his hand back. “They found us,” he said with an eye towards the window. He looked to the back of the room, and she could tell he was starting to plan their next escape. “It was going to be a surprise, but there’s a spa about half an hour outside town. I booked us a massage. I’ll have someone come by with a car. I’m sure this place has a back exit we can leave by, just like last time. Too bad though, I wanted to show you the rest of town.”
“I thought you had the press at your whim,” she said. She looked again at the young couple in sweatshirts and started working through a plan of her own. A massage sounded good, but a massage while photographers were swarming around? Not so much. Besides, there were spas everywhere, and when was the next time she’d be in the UK?
“I do,” he said.
“How soon can you have someone here?”
“Half an hour, I’d guess.”
Abby looked at the tray of food before her. “That sounds like a perfect amount of time. Call the car and get your cameras here, too. I need to go talk to our new friends.”
“About?” Nolan asked.
“You’ll see,” she replied. “Just take care of your part, and I’ll take care of mine.”
Abby walked over to the other table. “Hey guys,” she said, “how would you like to famous for a day?”
Half an hour later, just as Nolan had promised, a black SUV pulled up to the back entrance of the tea room, and Nolan’s photographers made their way into the scrum out front.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Nolan asked.
“Not at all,” Abby said, “but let’s give it a shot.” They paid their bill, got up, and headed to the back of the tea room and through a swinging door into the kitchen, where the other couple was waiting. Two minutes later, to a volley of shouts and the sound of camera shutters clacking away, they ran out the back door and into the waiting SUV. Abby listened to the paparazzi running off to try and follow the SUV. Some stayed behind and took shots of the privacy glass as the SUV sped away. Before long, they were all gone, following the wrong couple out of town.
“That was a neat trick,” Nolan said as he pulled the sweatshirt on. It was a bit tight on his shoulders, but with the hood up, no one would give him a second look. “The scarf was a nice touch. Did you really trade a six hundred dollar jacket, a cashmere scarf, and a spa day for two sweatshirts and a tour of Lyford?”
Abby grinned as she pulled on her sweatshirt. “I sure did,” she said. “Wait, your jacket cost six hundred dollars?”
Nolan laughed as he wrapped an arm around her. They walked side by side out into the square. The cameras were gone, and the streets were quiet, and everything had worked out. “So where are we headed?” Abby asked.
“Anywhere you like,” he said.
“I heard there’s a great little tourist trap up the road.”
“You’re full of surprises.”
She leaned her head against him as they walked. “I’m just getting started.”
The tourist trap lived up to its billing. There were sheep themed commemorative plates. There were posters and keychains and toy bagpipes, and there was almost everything plaid Abby could imagine. Nolan had already found his way over to a replacement scarf. As he picked it up, he said, “try not to give this one away.”
“I’ll cherish it for at least the hour,” she teased. She felt a bit bad about giving the first scarf away to sell the illusion that allowed their escape. Nolan had seemed so excited to give it to her. He draped it over her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. This scarf was just as soft as before.
“It’s identical,” he said, as if he read her mind.
“It’s perfect,” she said. “And I promise I’ll keep it for much longer than an hour.”
“Well, it complements your sweatshirt perfectly.”
“And yours,” she said, holding it up to his shoulder.
“What are the chances?”
Abby looked into his eyes. She felt a little weak in the knees, and she wanted more than ever to tell him how she felt, that she was falling for him, too, but something held her back. They paid for the scarf and headed back out. They browsed every shop along the way, but when they reached the last one, Nolan stopped. “I feel like I forgot something,” he said, “back there in the gift shop. There was something we should have done.”
I should have said what I was thinking, Abby thought. I still should.
“I know what we need,” Nolan said. “Postcards.”
“Postcards?”
“Trust me,” he said. “We used to do it when I was young. I don’t know why, but being in that shop reminded me of it. You write a postcard and you send it to me. I’ll send one to you. Then after you get back, it shows up later.”
“We could just give each other postcards right away,” she said.
“Where’s the fun in that?” He was right. He led her back to the gift shop, and once inside, made a beeline for a rack of cheesy postcards. Nolan chose a card with two adorable highland cattle with unruly haircuts. Abby chose a scene where the ruins of a castle rose up in front of a lake.
They paid for the cards and headed to the post office to buy stamps. Then and there, Nolan handed her a pen. “No peeking at mine,” he said as he tried to see what she was writing.
“Hey that goes both ways,” she said as she hid the card from view. On the front of the card, she drew a little Loch Ness Monster in the lake. It bought her a little time to think of the perfect message for the back of the card.
When she had it, she knew exactly what to write.
“Where do I send yours?” she asked as she finished writing.
“How about your place?” he asked. “That way we can read them together. And, I’ll have an excuse to invite myself over.”
“So what did you write?” Abby asked, hoping for a hint.
Nolan shook his head to indicate that he wasn’t going to tell. “Just know that I mean every word of it.”
Abby looked down at her postcard and back up at Nolan. “Me too.”
Chapter 21
The next morning, as she came down the stairs for breakfast, Abby could hardly believe she was in the same house she’d spent the last two nights in. The empty hallways and rooms of the first floor were bustling with activity. Workers were moving furniture, and there were kids running up and down the halls. People were hugging and greeting each other as if they hadn’t been together in years.
Outside, there was a line of cars stretching down the driveway and out of view. The whole thing felt more like a family reunion than a memorial service. When Abby found Nolan in the kitchen, he was helping his mother orchestrate an elaborate flow of food to different rooms of the house.
“I thought you said this was a small, family thing,” she said.
“This is small for my family,” he said. “My father invites half the town every year, and the other half shows up, too. Mostly to pay their respects, and then the family stays for a dinner. Everyone drinks, laughs, and remembers Ewan. I grabbed you coffee and a scone,” he said. He nodded to the counter while waving his arms to direct the caterers into another room. “God help us if there’s ever a wedding here.”
“We’re keeping our fingers crossed,” his mother called out as she made her way into the pantry.
Abby grabbed her breakfast and asked how she could help. “Find an excuse to get me away for a bit,” Nolan said quietly.
She kissed him on the cheek, taking care not to spill her coffee. “I’ll be in the bedroom,” she whispered into his ear. “Is that a good excuse?”
