“It’s actually nice out. We get some good weather every now and then.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes, each one trying to wind down and get back to the present after the hours of mulling over the past they’d done that morning. Evelyn decided she could never get tired of the breathtaking countryside they were whizzing past.
“What did you think?” Sam asked, glancing at her. “About Lachlan?”
“I think Piper’s got a big fat crush on him,” she said. He harrumphed. “As for whether or not he’s the killer in Edwina’s diary, I sincerely hope not.”
“I tend to think he’s not a killer, either,” Sam said, pulling off the country road into the more residential area leading up to the village. “It’s a valid point that if he wanted us dead, we’d have been dead by now.” He looked at her long and searchingly. “Are we going to be able to get him back?”
She gave a pitiful little laugh and let her head drop onto the back of the car seat, closing her eyes against the unknown.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“We really have to get him back,” Sam said and for the first time she felt a little ripple of fear. She nodded in agreement and they rode the rest of the way keeping uncomfortably to their own thoughts.
Sam pulled up in front of the village’s fancy restaurant that she’d noticed the night before. ‘Maison Craig’ was painted on the window in tall swirling script. In smaller letters underneath was written ‘Fine French and Scottish Cuisine. High Tea on Weekends’.
“I can’t,” Evelyn said, shaking her head firmly and motioning to her clothes.
“Oh, you know you want to,” Sam said. He got out of the car and popped around to her side, opening the door and dragging her out.
“I’m a mess.” She was wearing her jeans, which were beginning to get saggy from overwear, and two ancient sweaters layered over a flannel shirt, all things she’d found in the wardrobe in her room. He looked her up and down and grinned.
“You look amazing,” he said. “Besides, it’s only lunchtime and I know them in there.”
“But if we go now, we won’t be able to go for dinner another time when I can actually look nice,” she said, trailing off and sensing her argument was weak.
“Oh, we abolished the one meal per restaurant law years ago,” he said, pulling her toward the entrance. “You still have that in America? Where you can only eat in a restaurant one time, ever? Savages.” He stopped in front of the door and took her by the shoulders. “I’ll take you back for dinner before you leave, and you can spend as many hours as you want getting ready. Okay?”
She blushed, and had trouble meeting his eyes, which were glinting with flecks of gold in the sunlight. “Okay,” she agreed and he herded her ahead of him through the door.
It was dimly lit and cozy, with stained glass chandeliers and crisp white tablecloths, and also completely empty.
“Madame, we won’t be serving dinner for another hour,” a thin, slightly stooped man with neatly combed white hair, and wearing an open tuxedo jacket, said somewhat imperiously. “I’ll be happy to make you a reservation - Oh hi, Sam.” He dropped the slightly haughty tone at once upon seeing Sam enter the restaurant behind her and positively beamed at them. “Is this the other American, then?”
Sam introduced Evelyn to Reginald Maxwell, the owner of Maison Craig. He pumped her hand energetically, smiling widely at her. Evelyn wondered who Craig was, but the two were talking rapidly and with great gusto in Gaelic and she couldn’t find an opening.
“Where’s our wee Lady of the manor, today?” Reginald asked, guiding them to a corner table in the back. Sam glanced at Evelyn.
“Oh, we couldn’t tear her away from the renovations. Piper’s obsessed with getting the place ready for the holidays,” he said smoothly.
“That’s our girl, eh?” Reginald boomed. “I couldn’t be happier she’s got the place than if she were born and raised there. To believe we were ever worried, right Sam?”
“Worried? We were terrified,” Sam said, winking at Evelyn.
“Ah, well, it’s all water under the bridge now. What would you like to eat, then?” Reginald looked at them expectantly, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Whatever the special is for tonight is fine, I don’t want Leo to kill me.”
“And for our lovely visitor from across the pond? Anything you like, lass. My Leo can make it for you.”
“But you’re not even open,” Evelyn objected. “You’re not going to make us special food, are you? Is this because I’m American? You don’t have to cook special food because I’m American.”
Sam and Reginald shared a hearty laugh and Reginald shook his head.
“No, my dear, not at all. Sammy here’s family. He knows he gets a meal any time he wants, and that counts for his lovely guests as well.”
“You’re family?” Evelyn asked, looking from Reginald to Sam for a resemblance.
“Aye,” Sam said and Evelyn smiled at how his accent got stronger around the older man, whom he clearly adored. “My kid sister Angie married his son.”
“That’s right. My Donald, the middle lad. My oldest, Leo, and Sammy here used to get up to a right bit of trouble in school. Now they’re both boring and respectable.”
“Don’t tell her that, Reg,” Sam said. “Women like a bit of an edge.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Evelyn said, feeling warm all the way to the tips of her toes. “Your accurate knowledge of dates is pretty exciting.”
“That sounds about right,” Reginald said and clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Now tell me what you’d like to eat, and is it too early to crack open a bottle of wine? We’ve had a nice shipment of Riesling.”
“I’ll take the special as well, and it’s not too early for me.”
“Good lass.” Reginald clapped his hands and rushed off to the kitchen.
“I think I love him,” Evelyn said, shaking her head. “Your small town is not like my small town.”
“Yeah, we’ve got a good lot here,” Sam said modestly.
“So, you have a sister?”
“I do.” Sam stopped looking modest and began to almost glow with pride. “Elly. She’s twenty four, and is studying to become a dentist. She married that git Donald last year and they moved to Glasgow.” He frowned a little. “There isn’t much here for people just starting out. That’s why opening up the manor house is so huge to us. We’ve not much here to draw the tourists otherwise.”
“Well, I love it here,” Evelyn said. Sam smiled gratefully at her, holding her gaze long enough to make her start to feel overly warm. He tilted his head to the side and looked like he was about to say something when the kitchen door crashed open behind them.
“Just wanted to see the bugger who was making me work harder than I have to,” bellowed a shaggy haired, rosy cheeked man wearing an apron and carrying a bottle of wine. “And get a glimpse of the other American.” The man pounded Sam’s shoulder and beamed at Evelyn. She could instantly see the resemblance to Reginald. This must be Leo, Sam’s old friend.
“Does no one from the U.S. ever visit this village?” Evelyn asked, having been referred to as the other American at least three times now.
“Not many, no,” Donald said, grabbing her hand and giving it a good strong shake. “You’ll have to put in a good word when you return, aye?”
“Oh, I’ll have a brochure printed,” she said. Donald laughed and set the wine on the table, turning and reaching around behind the bar for two glasses. He pounded Sam again, beamed some more at Evelyn, then retreated to the kitchen.
Their meal of beef tenderloin steaks with gorgonzola, sauteed green beans and portobello mushrooms, and baby potatoes with rosemary was heavenly and they ate it lustily, avoiding talking about the manor, Lachlan, or curses.
She found out that besides his sister in Glasgow, Sam also had an older brother who lived in London and worked for a publisher. It was Martin’s defection to England that landed the store
in Sam’s lap when his dad retired three years earlier. His mother had been the village pediatrician until she also retired and now both his parents were traveling the world, currently residing in Spain for the winter.
“I went to England for business school,” Sam explained. He looked out the front window. “I think my dad would have sold the shop if I didn’t want to come back, but I like it here. I always meant to come back.”
Evelyn told him about her classes, and nodded at the bar, mentioning she worked in one, carefully leaving out any description of the place. She hadn’t had a proper conversation with a man in a long time, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I have to get into the real world more often, she thought. It was nice not having to feign enthusiasm while fending off groping hands.
When Evelyn drank the last sip of her wine, she sighed contentedly, not wanting to go back to the house, and also worried that they’d been away too long. Outside on the sidewalk, the air had grown chillier and Sam took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders, asking her if she’d like to walk for a little bit.
“I would really like to walk for a bit, but I hate the idea of leaving Piper alone for much longer. She seems just short of unhinged.” Evelyn huddled under Sam’s warm wool overcoat, admiring his strong constitution as a gust of wind whipped past them and he didn’t exhibit the tiniest shiver. He nodded in agreement, if not also a little bit disappointed, and they headed back to the manor.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They were surprised to find not just Piper in the kitchen, surrounded by torn apart boxes and pried open crates, the contents all over the floor, table and counters, but Lachlan was sitting in the middle of it all as well. Evelyn and Sam stopped short in the doorway of the kitchen, not knowing what to make of this turn of events.
“I talked him into coming down,” Piper said, smiling adoringly at Lachlan. “It just seemed like it would be easiest if he looked everything over and told us if he recognized anything.” She was placing things in piles on the counter - silverware, books, knick knacks, jewelry. “It seemed like we should really only be concentrating on things from his era, instead of wasting time on all the modern stuff or super ancient stuff that’s in here. Oh, I almost forgot. I found this yesterday.” She pushed the lacquered box with all the costume jewelry packed into it across the counter to Evelyn. “Check that out.”
“Yeah, I saw it. Piper, I don’t think any of it’s cursed.” Evelyn dug out a tiny reticulated gold mermaid with enamel scales and waggled it at her.
“I know that!” Piper said, bouncing on her heels. “It’s for you to go through, since you love all that seventies stuff. Pick whatever you want, we can put the rest on display.” She dumped the contents out onto the counter and swished it around with her hand, looking happily from Evelyn to Sam. “You know, going through all this made me realize, there’s something from just about every era of history in this house. When we get it all sorted, we’ve got to open a gallery in the village.”
“That’s a thought,” Sam said, glancing at Evelyn.
“I mean we can still open this place to visitors, tours, pony rides, the whole nine, but a museum, an amazing gallery of all these great things that have been in this family for centuries? I would pay a lot of money to see something like that. That tacky jewelry there alone! Not to mention all the important pieces Fenella left me. We could get reproductions made and have a gift shop - “
“Piper, how much coffee have you been drinking?” Evelyn interrupted, sliding a little pearl ring onto her finger.
“A lot of coffee,” Piper confessed, nodding vigorously.
“Well, you’ve certainly made good use of the caffeine overdose,” Sam told her, walking over to Lachlan’s discards and poking through them. Candlesticks, watches, some wooden spindles, spoons and dull, dented knives, moldy old books. It didn’t look promising. “Does any of this look familiar to you?” he asked.
Lachlan shrugged. “Any of these could be from my time. These candlesticks look like something my aunt has.” He paused and shook his head. “Had. The maker could be the same, our lands are close enough he could have traveled with his wares.” Lachlan slouched in his chair. “I’m sorry. I just do not know what a cursed object would look like.”
“He looks awful, Piper,” Evelyn whispered. “How long have you made him go through all that stuff?”
Piper looked taken aback and rushed to Lachlan’s side, stroking his arm and asking him if he felt all right. Lachlan put on a good manly show, but it was clear he was unwell. Sam said a few words in Gaelic and Lachlan looked at him gratefully before answering. Sam nodded and turned to Piper.
“He’s got a wicked headache. I think we should let him call it a day.”
“Of course. Lachlan, you should have told me.” Piper took Lachlan’s hand and tried to pull him to his feet but since he was about three times her size she just tilted toward him. He unfolded his giant frame off the kitchen chair and smiled down at her wearily.
“I’m going with him,” she said over her shoulder. “There’s aspirin on the second floor,” she told Lachlan as they left the kitchen. “We’ll make a little detour and I’ll fix you right up.” Piper led the giant Highlander away, patting his arm and murmuring to him.
Evelyn dropped her head onto her crossed arms on the counter, stabbing herself with a rhinestone starfish pin. Sam pulled up a barstool and sat across from her, absently pushing the sparkly pile of junk jewelry around with his finger.
“Do you think Piper’s all right?” he asked.
Evelyn turned her head to look at him with one eye. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve never seen her so stressed, though. She usually breezes past her problems, but this is a pretty big one. Truth be told, I’m surprised she hasn’t booked the first flight to Belize she could get.”
“This is her home, now,” Sam said with a small worried edge to his voice. “She wouldn’t just bugger off like that.”
Evelyn thought about it for a while. Normally, she’d have put good money on Piper not wanting to be bothered with the tremendous burden this eery castle was turning out to be. She’d cash out and spend the rest of her days being a beach bum somewhere. But Piper had been so oddly attached to things here, so proud of her brand new ancestry.
“It was a good idea she had, about the museum,” Evelyn said, nudging the pile of jewelry. “I’d pay to see most of this stuff, for sure.”
“Yeah, she’s had lots of good ideas since she got here. Fenella used to just let people tour the grounds, or fish in the lake at certain times, but Piper wants to have tours of the house, and make part of the grounds into a park, and get horses again. I think she’s a bit crazy sometimes.”
“She’s not crazy. She wants to be a part of this place.”
“She is part of it. She doesn’t have to turn herself inside out to prove it to anyone.” Sam furrowed his brow.
“Piper’s just generous is all. Growing up, sometimes we had to do without a new prom dress, but we never suffered. She doesn’t care about all her new millions, she just sees it as a chance to do something fun and different and that will make people happy.”
Sam snorted. “Try billions,” he said. “She told you about the oil, right?” He went to the fridge and brought out a pitcher of lemonade and poured them each a small glass, fumbling around in the cabinets until he came up with a bottle of vodka. “Hello, friend,” he said with a quirk of his lip and poured a generous shot into each lemonade. When Evelyn picked hers up he clinked her glass with his. “To all this nonsense.”
“To the nonsense,” Evelyn agreed and took a healthy swig. She could instantly feel the effect of the alcohol and gulped down some more, liking the warm sensation and the dulling of her troubled mind. She giggled and held out her glass. “To the dulling of our troubled minds.”
“Yes, to that indeed,” Sam said, topping off her glass before tapping it.
“Hey, Evelyn, do you think Lachlan’s all right?” he asked suddenly, a serious look clouding his face.
&
nbsp; She took another swallow of her vodka lemonade and thought it over. “I think he’s very handsome. And really big. Yes, he’s all right.”
Sam rolled his eyes and took her drink from her. “No, really. The headache. And he was pretty pale. Do you think the time travel could have affected him? Could it be affecting him?”
“I don’t know,” Evelyn said. “He’s probably just tired. This has got to be more terrible for him than it is for us. We’re not out of our element at least.” She looked around the kitchen, strewn with artifacts that were hundreds of years old, and remembered her scary midnight trip through the stairway maze in the pitch black. “Not much, anyway.”
“So he’s not, er, degenerating or anything, you don’t think?” Sam said, truly worried.
Evelyn’s eyes widened. “God, I hope not. Why would you think of that? He’s got to just be overstressed.”
“It’s never happened in any of your books?” Sam asked. “You’re sure of it?”
“Sam, those books are all fiction,” Evelyn said, pushing her stool away from the bar and standing up, all the blood rushing down to her feet, causing her to sway slightly. Sam deftly reached out to steady her. “It’s all fiction. This isn’t supposed to be happening, so how can I know if Lachlan’s degenerating or not?” She shuddered with horror at the very thought of it. Suddenly unable to remember why she’d stood up, she sat back down. “Let’s just keep an eye on him, see if he looks better tomorrow after the aspirin and a good night’s sleep. And don’t mention it to Piper. She will flip out.”
Sam nodded, and even though he seemed to know it was probably a bad idea, gave her back her vodka drink, and topped off his own. It was better than facing the fact that they had nothing new and were going nowhere in their efforts to find a way to get Lachlan back to his own century.
They toasted the bloody awful weather they were likely to have the next day, then refilled their glasses to toast the possibility that they’d have to go back down into the crypt before this was all over when Piper burst into the kitchen, looking flushed and winded.
Lost Highlander Page 9
