by Jenny Colgan
“Um, Flora?”
“Mmm,” said Flora, still trying to process what had just happened. Whatever spark there might have been between her and Charlie had been snuffed out, and she couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he wasn’t the man she’d hoped he was, that he wasn’t brave enough, in the end, to give it a shot. To risk it. Damn it, damn it, damn it all.
“Iona and I were talking, and, well . . .”
“I mean, it’s only health and beauty, my course,” said Iona. “It’s not like I’m learning anything that I couldn’t learn here. I mean, about how to run a business and handle things and bake and cook and . . . Well.”
“We were thinking,” said Isla, the bolder of the two. “If you wanted to stay. I mean. We would stay. If you wanted to run this place not just for the summer.”
“Also Ruaridh MacLeod’s staying,” said Iona pertly.
“Shut up! That’s got nothing to do with it!” said Isla crossly.
“It’s got a bit to do with it.”
“He’s got a job working for Colton Rogers. Running his gardens,” said Isla proudly. “It keeps him in amazing shape.”
“Well . . . that’s nice,” said Flora, flustered. “But . . . I mean . . . I have to go back to London, but I could talk to Fintan for you. I mean, you might be able to run it by yourselves.”
The girls looked panicked, and Flora remembered they weren’t out of their teens yet.
“I mean, with some help,” she said.
“Aye,” said Iona. “From you.”
“I’ll be up more often now . . .,” said Flora weakly.
“Town’ll be sad if the pink house is empty again,” said Isla.
“Yes, they will be,” said Flora. “But . . .”
The girls looked at her expectantly.
“I can’t,” said Flora. “I’m sleeping in a single bed in my dad’s house. Come on. Can you get to it, please?”
And now it was nearly the meeting.
“IS GOOD BOAT, UNCLE COLT?”
“Uncle Colt?” mouthed Flora to Innes, who simply shrugged.
Colton looked down at the now mud-spattered shoe, which had taken off down the filthy rivulet.
“Oh good,” he said. “At any point, if every single individual on Mure wishes to stop draining me of every cent I have, I’d be extremely grateful.”
“Well, it’s still worth having,” said Flora. “Give the kitchens a chance to show what they can do.”
Colton looked at her.
“You’re so good at this, you know? I mean, who knew?”
“I’m not,” said Flora, blushing. “I’m not half the cook my mother was.”
“It’s not just about that,” said Colton. “It’s about organization and management skills and being able to finish things. You’re thorough, like a proper lawyer. I can depend on you. She raised you well.”
Everyone went quiet for a moment, and Flora thought she was going to cry. But fortunately Agot, chasing the shoe, went sprawling head over heels among the chickens, with a considerable amount of caterwauling from both her and the chickens, and Flora was able to distract herself.
“Who else is coming into town tonight?” said Colton, and Flora smiled and sighed.
“Everyone,” she said.
Then she corrected herself.
“Almost everyone.”
Chapter Forty-eight
Flora had been pleased to hear from Kai during the week. He had sounded nervous.
“What?”
“Well. Good news and bad news.”
“Um,” said Flora. “Okay. Good. No, bad. No. Good. No. Bad.”
“Stop it,” said Kai. “Okay, two bits of good news. One—I’m coming to visit.”
“You’re coming up here?!”
“For some stupid meeting thing that’s happening.”
“The town council. Of course. Oh my God, why are you . . .?”
“That’s the rest of the news,” said Kai.
Flora felt a deep weight in her stomach. She didn’t want to hear what was coming.
“I’ve been promoted, Flors. On to the account.”
“Of course you have.”
“Because Joel has . . .”
“He’s taken Colton’s job,” said Flora dully.
Kai didn’t answer.
“L.A. or New York?”
As if it mattered.
“New York, I think,” said Kai. “He’s passed it on to me. Sorry. But still. Good chance to get over him, yes?”
Flora hadn’t been able to tell anyone what had happened. Not even Lorna. Best if everyone could assist her in still thinking he was an arsehole and that she was better off without him. Which she was, absolutely.
“Of course,” she said. “And it’s brilliant that you’re coming!”
It was too; she’d missed Kai while she’d been up here.
“It’s Lughnasa.”
“That sounds fattening.”
“It’s not! It’s a big pre-Christian festival, with lots of fire and dancing. Trust me, you’ll like it.”
“Will it be a load of drunk Vikings carousing around the place?”
“Hmm, a bit.”
“That sounds tremendous! I shall pack something super wenchy.”
They were all set for the meeting, then the party would start. The Café by the Sea would be shut, but the Harbor’s Rest would be doing a roaring trade. There was a firelight parade around the village, followed by music down on the Endless Beach as they lit a hawthorn bower—meant to represent the green man of summer, and how his time was ending—and sent him off out to sea.
It was mild and clear for the time of year, with the scent of autumn everywhere. Flora went to collect Kai from the airport dressed in a tweed skirt and a Fair Isle sweater with green stitching that turned her eyes green again.
Kai stepped down onto the tiny windswept runway, waving madly. Flora was delighted to see him.
“Oh my God, this place!” he said. He looked like an exotic creature in his expensive tailored suit. He strode out and looked around at the towering crags, the sheltering town, the clattering harbor. “Oh my God, look at it.”
Flora smiled. “Um . . .”
Kai shook his head.
“Seriously,” he said, “this is the place you’ve done nothing but moan about since I met you?”
Flora ushered him into the Land Rover, where Bramble greeted him with massive licks and a batting of his tail against the seat.
“Shit, Flora,” said Kai. “I grew up in Tottenham. And I can’t even afford that now.”
It was, admittedly, the perfect time to show Mure at its very best. As the sun started to dip, the equinox tide made the waters recede so that the beautiful beaches were full of birds. Kai gasped and exclaimed to see a stork take off, its huge wings pink with the lowering sun. Then he became very overexcited at the sight of a seal grabbing some rays on a rock.
“I just want to take him home,” he said. “That’s all I ask.”
“He’ll give you a nasty bite,” said Flora. “Doesn’t taste good either.”
“Flora!”
Next he exclaimed madly over the Café by the Sea and how adorable it was. Though he never normally ate carbs, he ate an entire slice of Bakewell tart, then closed his eyes. “I’m moving here,” he said. “I think you’re mad.”
More ecstasies followed as Flora took him to the Rock—finally ready for guests—to unpack, and showed him, with a faint trace of sadness, into a bedroom that was just as beautiful as she’d always suspected they would be, with deep sofas and driftwood furniture, and those extraordinary views. Innes was in the parking lot, dropping off a load of produce, and Flora brought him over. Kai perked up immediately.
“I don’t think so,” said Flora. “Just the one MacKenzie boy. I think.”
“Yeah, like you’d know,” said Kai pertly.
“This is Innes, director of MacKenzie Farms Limited,” said Flora, introducing them. “This is Kai, who’s going to be my new boss.�
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Kai waved her away. Innes smiled shyly. They’d only signed the papers a couple of weeks ago, and it still felt like a novelty.
“Are you coming to the Lughnasa later?” said Innes.
“I should think so.”
“Braw,” said Innes, and Flora grinned.
“Agot’s going to like you,” she said to Kai.
“Who?” said Kai.
They convened in the village hall at 6:30. Anyone was allowed to sit in on council meetings, but very few people did. Tonight, however, the hall was nearly full, as people came to see what would happen to Colton. Would he withdraw everything he’d brought to Mure if he didn’t get his way? Or would everything be all right?
Flora sat nervously with all the paperwork between Kai and Colton, with Fintan on Colton’s other side. The council filed in. Her father; Maggie Buchanan, face giving nothing away; Mr. Mathieson, Jan’s father, who scanned the crowd and, when he caught sight of Flora, frowned. Flora sighed. That didn’t bode well. The reverend, who appeared to still have pie crumbs round his mouth. That was a better sign. Eck’s old friend Gregor Connolly; Elspeth Grange; and, of course, Mrs. Kennedy.
Flora touched Colton lightly on the shoulder. There was a lot of dull business to get through until it got to them.
Joel sat in his immaculate apartment. He couldn’t settle down. He knew the meeting was tonight. This was ridiculous. In his career he’d won great victories, triumphed for small companies over big ones, many times. This case had been absurd, about the concept of a place, rather than a point of planning.
It was still steaming hot and damp in London. He didn’t want to walk. Too many people everywhere, shouting into their phones, making noise, blasting music, staring at screens, bumping into you, showing off. Everywhere. He didn’t want to go out. Sit in some ridiculous bar, have the same conversation with the same type of woman, surreptitiously checking her own gorgeousness out in the bar mirror, grabbing her phone for another selfie.
He checked his watch. Kai was going to phone him with the result. He thought about how hard Flora had worked, everything she’d wrought. She’d be fine. She was probably there with that big guy right now.
He ran his hands through his hair. Why was it so hot? He had the air conditioner on, but he still felt so constrained, like he couldn’t breathe. He paced about like a leopard in a zoo.
“And finally,” said Maggie Buchanan, who was chair, “we come to the planning proposal for the North Mure offshore wind farm.”
Colton jumped up.
“I oppose this!” he said.
Maggie looked at him over her spectacles.
“All in good time, Mr. Rogers.”
She glanced through the paperwork in front of her.
“This seems in order.”
Flora stood up.
“I have,” she began, her voice clear in the room, “I have here a petition signed by . . . many people in the village. Stressing their opposition.”
“Very good,” said Maggie, her voice chilly. “However, they don’t have to look at the turbines.”
“No, but my guests do,” said Colton. Everyone was watching him. “Come on, ma’am. You must see that this is a beautiful place. It’s special, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think misty-eyed views of our island are particularly useful, no. We’re a real place that needs to be run well. And bringing in green jobs and cheaper electricity is a part of that.”
“There’s no evidence that it will be cheaper, though,” said Flora. “And you’re going to disturb wildlife . . .”
“Yes, only terns,” said Maggie. “I see no current shortage.”
Colton stood up again.
“Ma’am,” he said. “I love this place. I’ve invested in this place.”
“Eventually,” said Fraser Mathieson.
“And I want to call it home. Am proud to call it home. I want to continue investing. The people of Mure have been good to me and I want to return that. I want to keep things lovely. That’s all. So I humbly suggest that we move the windmills farther out.”
“That’ll cost more to do,” muttered Eck, not looking at Flora.
“But for the views . . .,” added the reverend.
“They’re not everybody’s views, though, are they?” said Mr. Mathieson.
“It’s everybody’s island,” said Colton, “and I want to make it feel that way. As much as I can. I’ve traveled all over the world and I think this is the most beautiful place on God’s earth. I am so, so proud of it, and I want everyone else to feel proud of it too. I want everyone who comes here to feel the way I do, from the second they step onto the island.”
“Hear, hear,” said Kai.
Flora stared at Colton, amazed. This really was how he felt. And all round the room, people were nodding. People who she’d always thought, somehow, wanted to get away, dreaming of freedom. That wasn’t true, she realized. This place: it was freedom. Home and freedom, all at once.
Colton was still standing, overcome with emotion.
“I love this place. I’m home. And that is all I have to say.”
There was a huge round of applause as he sat down. Fintan squeezed his thigh; Flora squeezed his shoulder.
“Well done,” she said, slightly choked up.
Chapter Forty-nine
Um, hi. Is Dr. Philippoussis there?”
“Joel, darling. It’s Marsha. He’s got a client. Are you okay?”
“Um, yes. Sorry, I can call back . . .”
Marsha had always had a very soft spot for the serious, troubled boy, would have pushed for adoption if her own children hadn’t been so small and needy at the time.
“Joel,” she said. “I’m not a medical professional.”
“No,” said Joel, loosening the collar of his shirt. Why was he so hot?
“But we don’t hear from you in years. And now it’s every day, nearly.”
“I can stop,” said Joel, panicked.
“No. Joel. You’re not hearing me. That’s the opposite of what we want. In fact, when you come back to New York, we very much hope you’ll spend some time with us.”
Joel swallowed.
“I’d like that,” he said. This was progress, he thought. Six months ago, he’d no more have admitted to needing someone than he would have walked in space.
“Good,” said Marsha. “But that’s not it, is it?”
“You’re a much bossier therapist than the doc,” said Joel.
“I’m not a therapist at all,” said Marsha. “But I am a mother.”
Joel paused.
“Did you let her down gently, this girl?” asked Marsha softly.
“I don’t think she minded,” said Joel.
“Do you think? Or maybe she minded very much.”
“No,” said Joel, thinking of the aggressive blondes who called and harassed Margo. “No, she didn’t make a fuss.”
“Maybe,” said Marsha. “Maybe that’s because she’s different.”
There was a long pause.
“I’m not going to say what’s the worst that can happen, Joel,” said Marsha. “I know what’s the worst that can happen. Women have vanished on you your entire life. Here’s all I’ve got to say. If you’re waiting for the doc to give you permission . . . that’s not going to happen. He can’t. He’s a therapist. He can’t tell you what to do.”
She smiled.
“I can, though.”
Chapter Fifty
All right,” said Maggie, looking stern. “It’s time to vote. All those in favor of continuing with the wind farm plans as they are, raise their hands.”
Mr. Mathieson’s hand shot up. Flora wondered vaguely if he had investments in offshore wind farms. She wouldn’t put it past him. Elspeth Grange. The reverend.
“Reverend!” she couldn’t help saying. At least he had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
There was a long pause. One more hand, and they’d be defeated. Flora looked at her father, who had gone entirely pink. H
e had the chance to vote against the man who’d strode in, bought his farm, stolen his son away from him. He couldn’t look at Colton. It must, Flora realized, be agony for him.
But he kept his hand down. Flora’s heart wanted to burst with love for him.
“And those who reject?”
Eck’s hand went up, slowly. So did Mrs. Kennedy’s, and Flora clenched her fists with glee. Gregor’s too, in solidarity with Eck, of course. She and Colton looked at each other. It was all down to Maggie. Had they done enough? They crowded together.
“Christ, this is better than mergers and acquisitions,” said Kai under his breath.
Maggie didn’t speak for a long time. Then she leaned forward.
“Mr. Rogers,” she said. “I’ve been impressed by your . . . belated but nonetheless clear commitment to our community, and I hope very much that it continues . . .”
She looked pointedly at Flora then, who squirmed.
“Your obvious love for this island and what we have here is admirable. As are the efforts you’ve put in to back this up.”
Colton stood up, his face full of gratitude.
“Thank you so much, Mrs.—”
She stilled him with a hand.
“That’s why I’m sure you’ll agree that bringing further investment—practical, near-at-hand investment, that will benefit every single resident, temporary and permanent—can only be a public good. However, in light of your impassioned defense, I am inclined not to place the wind farm in front of the Rock.”
She stopped. Colton and the MacKenzies, on the brink of a group hug, looked at her, beaming.
“To preserve the exquisite views for guests there, I propose moving it three miles to the west, which does not impact on costing and is an equally appropriate space for the work to proceed.”
There was a very long pause. Colton straightened up.
“You mean directly in front of the Manse? My home?”
“It’s your choice, Mr. Rogers. The Rock or the Manse. It’s the second most appropriate location. Benbecula has huge cost implications for our tax base.”
