Blair
The atmosphere in the breakfast room on Sunday morning was both excited and somber. That odd mix that you often find at the meal after a funeral. People were trying to be respectful of what had happened the night before. And trying to cope with the reality of death, each in their own way.
I caught bits and pieces of the conversations around me. You had to admit that Bob's seemingly sudden heart failure in the middle of sex had made for an eventful gathering stay. The beautiful, successful, well-loved widowed doctor performing CPR nearly naked was an image—even if you hadn't actually seen it—that you couldn't shake or get out of your mind. Yes, that was the kind of story people couldn't help thinking, and talking, about.
Poor, poor woman. The shock. She killed him with sex. Not her fault. So sad.
And him. But he was gone. Though it was an ignoble way to go, he wasn't around to suffer the aftermath. I actually heard one man whisper that it was that lack of completion that got to him the most. Imagine dying on the edge of climax. How frustrating.
And then there was the embarrassment of being caught in the act. Yes, of course, they were married. But still. The when of his death was salacious enough to cause people to talk. And shudder.
There was that sense that death should have had the good grace to pick a more decorous moment. And the hope in the back of everyone's mind that they could die peacefully in their beds, while sleeping.
There was a bit of a hive mentality. Everyone gathered together nearly at once for breakfast. I'd seen enough death, dealt with enough bereaved family members, to know that being with other people, even laughing, talking over your own fears of mortality was cathartic. Some things may seem morbid and inappropriate, but they were necessary for healing.
The breakfast room was filled with people who hadn't known Bob. Had maybe seen him once or twice over the past few days. Said hello. Maybe sat with him at breakfast. It was the last day of the gathering. They wanted to put the sadness behind them and enjoy the day. Move on.
I felt sorry for the owners. This was a terrible thing to have happen for their business, even though it was not their fault. They'd be known as the place where that guy had died at the gathering. During sex. Who wanted to stay in a room where a man had died?
Maybe at Halloween.
In the long run, I imagined they'd recover. Hopefully. Maybe their notoriety would even turn to a kind of positive fame. As close as they were to the fairgrounds, as many events as were held there throughout the year, as beautiful as their view was, and as few accommodations as there were in the area, I was confident they'd survive.
The breakfast room was filled with light and sunshine, and the smell of coffee and fresh cinnamon rolls baking. There was a hint of bacon in the air. Outside, the sky was blue and the day beautiful, completely at odds with the pall of death.
A TV was on, tuned to a news, entertainment gossip, and weather station.
Austin and I were dressed in street clothes, trying to look like ourselves for our last few hours of the gathering and avoid notice. Neither of us was in the mood to stay after what had happened to Bob. And we had a million last-minute things to do before the trip.
"We'll just pop by the booth and buy ourselves a blessing to counteract the ill wish and be out of here," he said as he loaded his plate with eggs and bacon.
I nodded, poured myself a cup of coffee, and grabbed a cinnamon roll and a bowl of fresh berries. We took a seat a table near the window. It had a view of the garden. The flowers were lovely and amazingly soothing to watch as they waved in the morning breeze.
The TV was across the room, perpendicular to us where we both had a view of it if we turned sideways. We made small talk, both trying to avoid it. But when Bob's name was mentioned, we turned to watch the story.
"Very sad story from the annual Seattle gathering," the anchorwoman said as the story about Bob concluded. "The gathering is a big event. We hear there are record crowds."
"That's right," the male anchor said. "In large part due to our very own Jamie and Elinor lookalikes, Austin MacDougall and Blair Edwards."
I froze and looked at Austin.
"Damn," he mouthed.
Their coverage of us was mercifully positive. An uplifting human-interest story to cover the stain of Bob's death on the fun.
"And in another interesting twist in their very public love story, we have a story out of the UK. A woman from the small town of Avebury in England, a teashop owner, and tea-leaf reader, apparently, is claiming she predicted their romance before it happened."
I nearly dropped my coffee. I looked at Austin.
He looked at me for confirmation. "Is this true?"
"Kind of," I said. "She read my tea leaves."
He frowned. "Why have I never heard this?"
I shrugged. "It never came up?"
The selfie the woman had taken with me flashed on the screen, followed by a picture of my tea leaves showing the line that indicated my past and present loves.
A clip of the woman explaining the reading followed. She was being interviewed by a British reporter.
"No, at the time I had no idea how this would play out," the woman said. "Or that Blair would become famous for looking like Elinor of Jamie. They're filming in Scotland right now, you know."
The reporter nodded. "Yes. It's lovely. We're all drooling over Connor Reid and can't wait until the new fall season. But your reading—it's brilliant. When did you put two and two together and realize what this rather odd combination of leaves meant?"
The woman beamed. "Just recently, when all the news was about. But it's perfect, really. I mean, she meets a man dressed from the past, playing a character from the past, but who's definitely in the present."
I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Well, she's certainly capitalizing on our fame."
Austin grinned. "Can you blame her? Tea leaves? I didn't know you believed in that stuff."
"I don't," I said. "She insisted. For practice. No good deed…"
He laughed.
I thought that was the end of the story, but the reporter continued.
"There's someone else, though, who has another interpretation of the tea leaves. Another twist to the fascinating social media story that is Austin and Blair and their love of Jamie.
"This man, Nigel, says that he is the past and present love. That after years of a long-distance relationship, Blair was trying to make a decision about where it was going. The tea leaves clearly pointed to him. And look at him, people. You won't even have to look closely to grasp what we're implying."
By now the story had the full attention of everyone in the breakfast room, including Austin. Nigel's picture flashed on the screen.
"Isn't Nigel the very picture of Reggie, Elinor's first love, the noble British man she was snatched away from?" the reporter said.
My fury welled. "Damn him."
The room collectively jumped. Austin stared at me.
Nigel had deliberately styled himself to look like Reggie. And then, suddenly, the reporter was interviewing him.
"I want Blair back," Nigel said. "I love her. I've always loved her." He looked directly into the camera. "Come back to me, Blair. Come back."
I looked at Austin. There was a tic in his cheek.
Everyone in the room was staring at us.
"You never thought to mention that your ex looks like Reggie?" he said.
"No, I didn't, because he didn't the last time I saw him," I said, loud enough for the room to hear. Oh, please. They were eavesdropping anyway. They might as well hear the truth.
"Not particularly. He's styled himself to look like Reggie to capitalize on our fame and get the spotlight. He's like that." I sighed, exasperated. "Look. I knew he was distant cousins or something with the actor who plays Reggie. There's a strong family resemblance. But Nigel barely knew who Jamie was before all this."
Austin's face was set. "Nigel's a handsome guy."
"Well, of course he's handsome," I said, indignant. "You think I'd date an
ugly man for all those years?"
The people in the room were riveted. I didn't give a rat's ass. Or anyone else's.
"I have good taste," I said, my anger rising. I pointed my finger at Austin. "And you listen here, Austin MacDougall. I chose you. Yes, you." I glared at him to make my point. "And the whole of the…the world wants Elinor with Jamie, not Reggie. Jamie is the handsome hero, the heartthrob that makes women swoon. Reggie doesn't really have a chance. Everyone knows that. And neither does Nigel."
There was a collective sigh. A woman murmured, "You go, girl," just loud enough for everyone else to hear.
Austin suddenly broke into a grin. He slammed his chair back, got to his feet, pulled me out of my chair and into his arms, and kissed me. Thoroughly.
I was so stunned I forgot to fight back.
The room broke into a round of applause.
I looked into his eyes. "I love you."
"Yeah?" He wore a crazy grin. "I love you too." He kissed me again, just a quick peck. "Now. Eat your breakfast so we can go buy that blessing before the ill wish does any more damage."
"Damn," I said, as the realization hit. "That thing is more potent than I thought."
"Believe now?" He lifted an eyebrow.
"I'm a woman of science." I lifted a forkful of eggs. "Mere coincidence. But just to be sure…"
* * *
We were the first customers of the day at the ill wish/blessing tent. Austin made sure of that. Though he tried to find out who had purchased our curse, the owner claimed not to remember or keep records. She could have claimed client/curse provider privilege, but she preferred to plead bad memory.
"What kind of an ill wish was it?" she asked.
Austin described it.
"Oh, yes," the woman said. "The wish to cause discord in a romantic relationship. The curse of the bad breakup."
"Do you have a blessing that counters it?" I asked, eager to get the stench of the curse out of my mind.
The woman nodded. "The blessing of a long and happy life together."
Austin raised an eyebrow. "That sounds very…committed." He turned to me, wearing a big, teasing smile. "What do you think? Too extreme? You could end up stuck with me for life. Maybe something milder?"
He looked eager and hopeful. Though our relationship was less than six months old, we were already making future plans.
I smiled back at him. "There are worse fates, I suppose." I hugged him. "I say we go for it. We need a strong cure or we risk losing what we have."
The thought of Nigel and his plea to get me back hung in the air between us. At least, it was in my mind. And, I presumed, his.
Austin nodded and turned to the woman behind her table. "How much is this going to set me back?"
She named her price. He paid. She handed over a very pretty posy of sweet-smelling herbs and flowers and said a blessing over us.
"Well, it's done, then," he said as we walked away.
I inhaled deeply and sniffed the flowers. "This is lovely. It smells wonderful."
He nodded and took my hand as we walked. "We've never talked about marriage."
I stopped suddenly and studied him. "No, we haven't."
"Have you thought about it?" He seemed almost nervous.
"I have," I said, nodding.
"And? Could you see yourself as Mrs. MacDougall?"
"No," I said.
He paled and looked pathetically stunned, poor guy.
I shouldn't have toyed with him. He was obviously serious. "But I could see myself as Dr. MacDougall."
He pulled me into his arms and lifted me off the ground, spinning me around. "You're awful, Southron. Totally terrible. Why am I so in love with you?"
"Because you're crazy. And I'm your Elinor." I kissed him.
"So you mean it?" He looked me in the eye. "You'd think about marrying me?"
I nodded. "You'd have to ask me, of course. And do it properly."
"Duly noted." He kissed me again as my heart danced for him.
Yes, the thought of marrying him had crossed my mind. Actually occupied my mind, for quite a while now. I was old enough to know what I wanted and go for it. Old enough, and wise enough, not to spend years fooling around in a relationship that was going nowhere. Old enough not to want to waste any more time. I'd wasted enough with Nigel. Though now I felt glad for it.
I couldn't picture myself with anyone else but Austin. I had never felt this way about anyone. Not even Nigel.
Chapter 13
Tuesday
Austin
For two days I'd been ignoring Randy's texts. I was on vacation. He could handle things. I refused to give him any opportunity to derail my trip to Scotland. This vacation was too important. And not because of the Jamie promos. It was too important to Blair and me. She was going to get closure with Nigel. And I was going to propose.
Because of the notoriety Blair and I were getting, I asked the cab to drop us off in the less busy arrival section at the south end of Sea-Tac Airport. I had my passport in my pocket. Blair was by my side, eagerly chatting about the trip. Damn, I loved that woman.
I grabbed our bags and wheeled them toward the beautiful multistory round structure of glass windows. Past the tall stones and evergreens planted next to the sidewalk to give the airport a forest, outdoorsy feel. And inside toward an arrangement of monolithic stones as tall as a person. Now all we had to do was pass through the opening between two of the large stones. Through the seating area of a café that should be empty this time of day. Up the escalators. And to check-in. Hopefully avoiding notice.
Cam taught self-defense. He had drilled into us the need to be aware of our surroundings.
Two men in suits were waiting by stones a little too obviously casually. They were watching me. Two government guys I recognized by sight. From the program.
I had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.
Blair paused. "What's wrong?"
I nodded toward the two men. "Them."
She looked. "Do you know them?"
I nodded. "They're from the program." I paused. "Look. You go in past them. I'll back out and go in another entrance. I'll meet you at the gate."
She frowned. "Why?"
"Humor me. Just do it, Blair. I don't have time to explain."
"They can't stop you from going." Her eyes were wide. "Can they? Is that what you're afraid of?"
I kissed her and gave her a gentle shove. "This is Randy's doing. No matter what happens, head to the gate. Let me deal with these two. If I'm not there when it's time to board, get on the flight. Go on to Scotland. I'll catch the next flight." I nodded toward the men. "We need to make a move. Distract them for me as you pass through the stones."
"I don't understand what's going on. But I trust you. Be careful. I'm not spending our dream vacation alone."
"Go." I handed her the handles to her suitcases.
I watched her walk toward the men, wheeling her suitcases behind her. I held my breath. She passed them and through the stone pillars. She looked back over her shoulder at me, opened her purse, and tripped. On purpose.
The contents of her purse clattered onto the floor. She went down on one knee. They didn't even glance at her. Douches.
I turned and speed-walked toward the exit. I was quick. They were quicker and outnumbered me. They pinned me between them and the glass walls and exit.
"Austin MacDougall. Good to see you again," the more senior one said. He flashed his official badge.
"Stop dicking around. I'm in a hurry," I said. "I have a flight to catch, as I'm assuming you know. What do you want?"
He held out his hand. "Surrender your passport."
I stared at him. "You've got to be kidding."
His face was stony. He waved his fingers, encouraging me to pass it to him.
"You're joking." I handed it over, expecting him to look at it and hand it right back.
"Austin MacDougall," he said, "you've been deemed a security risk and are prohibited from leaving th
e country." He grabbed my arm.
"What?" I tried to shake free.
"Come with us," he said. "There's been a security leak in the program. No one leaves the country until we find the source. We're taking you in for questioning."
As they guided me toward the exit and a waiting car, I cursed Randy beneath my breath.
"At least let me text my girlfriend and tell her what's going on." I glanced back into the building, breathing a sigh of relief that Blair was on her way up the escalator, willing her to keep going before they stopped her, too.
The two guys looked at each other and shrugged.
"Go ahead," the one nearest me said.
I texted her. I have to answer a few questions about the project. I may have to take a later flight. Get on the plane. I'll meet you in Scotland. I love you.
She reached the second floor and got off the escalator. I watched her pull her phone from her purse and read my text. She turned just as they hauled me to the exit.
She reached her arm out to me as if she could grab me and pull me through the stones, across the room, and up the escalator to be with her. She texted me back. I love you too. Be careful.
I texted her again. Scotland. I'll be there. I promise.
* * *
Thank You!
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Also by Gina Robinson
The Jet City Kilt Series
Almost Jamie
Almost Elinor
Simply Blair
Almost Elinor: A Jet City Novel Page 13
