The Cottage

by Michael Phillips

  “Is Lady Joanna still living?” asked Loni.

  “She died when I was a young woman, miss—1971, I believe it was. But her daughter, Allison—”

  “Her daughter was named Allison?”

  “Aye, miss.”

  “That was my mother’s name!”

  “Was it now? That is a coincidence. Lady Joanna’s Allison was married to the well-known MP Logan Macintyre. They’re both gone now too, though Lady Allison only died six or seven years ago. We were privileged to meet them as well. The Stonewycke estate is now in the hands of Lady Allison and Sir Logan’s daughter, Hilary, and her husband, Ashley Jameson. Perhaps you will visit them at Stonewycke.”

  “I’m not related to them like you are.”

  “They would welcome you just the same, especially knowing how similar your story is to Lady Joanna’s. I would be honored to contact them on your behalf, miss.”

  “Well, we shall see,” said Loni with an appreciative smile.

  The conversation drifted into other channels. The two women parted twenty minutes later on friendly terms. No more was said about what might be Loni’s plans for the housekeeper and her brother.

  22

  Fish Supper

  When Hardy Tulloch walked into the Whales Fin Inn a little before six o’clock late that afternoon, he was greeted by the half dozen or so fishermen with whistles and catcalls. He was cleaner than any of them had ever seen him, hair slicked down and wearing what appeared to be a new shirt and new trousers. And sporting a tie. Who in Whales Reef would have guessed that Hardy Tulloch even owned a tie?

  “Ow, jist luik at the dandy!” called out one of Hardy’s cohorts.

  “An’ a tie!” chimed in another. “What’s become o’ oor Hardy?”

  “He’ll soon be too posh for the likes o’ us.”

  “Ow, ye reek o’ one o’ them ladies’ shops in Aberdeen, Hardy!”

  “It’s nae perfume ye’re smellin’, but the fragrance o’ a man’s cologne.”

  The room burst into laughter. “An’ where’d ye find it?” someone shouted.

  “Never ye mind where I got my hands on it. I hae mair friends o’ the female persuasion who owe Hardy a thing or two for past favors, than ye’ll ever hae yersel’, if ye ken what I’m talkin’ aboot.”

  “Ow, aye—we a’ ken yer reputation wi’ the ladies, Hardy.”

  “What’s next for ye, bubble bath after a night wi’ the fish? Ha, ha!”

  “What’s next’ll be none o’ yer business,” retorted Hardy, giving the man a slap on the shoulder. “Let’s jist say that afore ye next set eyes on me, the fortunes o’ this island’ll rest wi’ me. But noo I got mair business that requires my attention than tae waste my time wi’ the likes o’ yersel’s.”

  He strode to the counter, followed by more good-natured jibes, where Keith was waiting. As was common practice among the island’s fishermen, Hardy had left one of the choicest fish of his recent catch with Keith a few hours earlier, gutted and cleaned, to be filleted, battered, deep-fried, and with instructions to have it steaming and ready just before six.

  Hardy left the inn a minute later carrying a large plastic bag, casting a final grin toward his fellows as he walked through the door with unbounded confidence. Though the use of it was felt rarely on the island, Hardy did own an automobile. He loaded his two ample fish suppers into the passenger seat and was soon on the way to his rendezvous with destiny. If he played his cards right, he would be sitting pretty by the end of this night.

  ———

  As she awaited her evening’s guest, in spite of her pleasant visit with Isobel Matheson, the emotional ups and downs of the day had left Loni with a single overriding desire—she wanted to go home.

  She sat down in the Great Room, trying to unravel her tangled thoughts. She had come to Scotland, she had done her duty to her ancestors and whomever else might care, but she was not cut out for life in this place. She was an outsider. It was time to face that fact. She was anxious to get back to her real life and put this little fairy tale about long-lost inheritances behind her.

  Obviously, however, she could not simply walk away. She had to come to some decision about what to do and how to handle this complicated situation she had landed in the middle of. The future of this island was in her hands. Like it or not, she had inherited this Cottage and everything that went with it. She had to deal with it.

  And despite her nonchalant remarks to Maddy and Jason MacNaughton about caring nothing for it and letting the inheritance go to the next in line, she was businesswoman enough and practical enough to realize that it would be irresponsible simply to walk away. Her short time here had at least had the effect of revealing that she must handle the thing responsibly and professionally. In spite of saying that the inheritance meant nothing to her, after more level-headed reflection she could not deny that it would be a blessing not to have to worry about finances and be able to provide for her grandparents should they ever need financial help.

  There were others to consider as well—namely the people of this island, especially the women whose livelihoods depended on the mill. Much was at stake for many people.

  She needed to get a thorough assessment of what was involved. Tax implications would come into it too. She had heard that estate taxes were worse in the U.K. than in the States, which accounted for so much of the aristocracy losing their property in the past century. She needed to find out more on that score from Jason MacNaughton.

  She would also have to make arrangements for whatever might be necessary in her absence. About one thing she hadn’t changed her mind—she certainly had no intention of living here.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. She rose and set her quandaries on the shelf for the time being.

  “Evenin’ tae ye, Miss Ford,” said Hardy as Loni opened the door.

  “Hello, Mr. Tulloch,” said Loni with a smile. “Did you have a successful night fishing since I last saw you?”

  “Aye, mum, an’ I hae the fruit o’ my labor in the bag here—a nice fresh cod for oor supper.”

  Loni’s first thought was the fear that they would have to clean and cook Hardy’s catch, though the smell of what seemed like French fries coming from the bag was promising. She led him inside. The pungent aroma of aftershave followed him, mingled with whatever was in the bag. Loni could not help smiling to herself. The man was trying hard, she had to say that for him, even if the role of country squire did not seem altogether natural to him.

  “So . . . do we need to cook your fish?” she asked as they entered the kitchen.

  “Oh no, mum. I took it to Keith at the hotel an’ he fried it in his batter, along wi’ plenty o’ chips for us. I brought a bottle o’ wine tae gae wi’ oor fish an’ chips. All ye need is tae set us plates and glasses an’ supper’ll be served.”

  “That should be easily arranged,” said Loni, taking two plates and wineglasses from the cupboard. “How nice—fish and chips.”

  “As fresh as can be had,” rejoined Hardy. “This lad was swimmin’ aboot in the sea this time yesterday.”

  Loni laughed. “Then it will definitely be the freshest fish I have ever partaken of in my life. Come to think of it,” she added, “my grandfather used to take me fly-fishing for trout. We always ate what we caught the same day. So what I said is not quite true but close.”

  Five minutes later they were seated opposite each other in what was called the breakfast room, adjacent to the kitchen. Loni had still not had a meal in the formal dining room. It did not seem fitting for two people to sit down to a supper of fish and chips from a plastic bag and wrapped in newspaper at a formal dining room table that would seat twenty.

  Hardy poured out generous portions of wine into each of their glasses, then lifted his glass in a toast. “Tae oor future together,” he said, “an’ tae a happy an’ prosperous future for yersel’ as the new laird o’ Whales Reef.”

  “Thank you,” said Loni, taking a sip as Hardy downed half
the contents of his.

  He then turned his attention to the main course.

  “Dinna be shy, Miss Ford,” he said, breaking off a large chunk of fish and lifting it to his mouth with his fingers. “I hope ye dinna mind, but ’tis the only way tae eat fish an’ chips.”

  Loni laughed and followed suit. “I will take your word for it,” she said, tearing off an edge of fish and picking it up with her fingers. “Oh, this is delicious!”

  “Glad ye like it, mum.”

  “I have to say, these are enormous portions. And you brought enough chips to feed a small army.”

  “I didna want ye tae go hungry, mum.”

  “No danger of that. Do fishermen ever tire of fish?”

  “I ne’er heard o’ sich a thing. Wi’oot fish, folk wouldna long survive in the Shetlands.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Though now there is the oil.”

  “A body canna eat oil.”

  “There is money in it.”

  “No for the likes o’ us on Whales Reef.”

  “What if there was?” asked Loni.

  “I dinna think I follow yer meanin’, Miss Ford.”

  “I had a visit yesterday—after you left, late in the afternoon—from a man named McLeod, a Texan.”

  Hardy took in the information with more interest than he allowed himself to divulge.

  “He said that he and Macgregor Tulloch had arranged for Mr. McLeod to buy his property on the island,” Loni went on. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “I heard somethin’ aboot it,” replied Hardy guardedly. “When it was known that I would inherit—that is, afore they found yersel’, ye ken—McLeod’s solicitors were speakin’ tae me aboot it.”

  “Had you been intending to go forward with the deal?” asked Loni.

  “I, uh, hadn’t altogether decided, mum. It seemed tae need a bit more lookin’ into.”

  “After his visit,” said Loni, “I found myself thinking more seriously about what you mentioned when we talked before, about the possibility of your helping me oversee a few things.”

  “Whatever I can do for ye, Miss Ford.”

  “And you would be willing, as you said, perhaps to act as my factor when I return to the States? I would pay you, of course.”

  “Aye, I would, mum, if that’s what ye want. I’m nae concerned aboot bein’ paid. I make a good livin’ wi’ the fishin’. I jist want what’s best for the folk o’ Whales Reef.”

  “I am relieved to hear that.”

  “An’ if ye decide tae sell tae the Texan, if ye like, I could handle the transaction for ye, like we talked aboot afore, especially as I know some o’ McLeod’s folks already.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Ye can leave it tae me. Ye jist tell me what tae do an’ I’ll make sure tae do the best for the folk o’ the island.”

  “That is very kind of you, Mr. Tulloch. I will have whatever papers are necessary drawn up to name you as my agent, and have Mr. MacNaughton in Lerwick contact you and arrange the particulars. I will want you to leave me all your information as well, so that you and I can be in regular contact.”

  ———

  As Hardy walked from the door of the Cottage to his car some time later, his brain was spinning. In spite of his effort to remain calm and sound matter-of-fact, he was inwardly fuming to learn of the Texan’s double-dealing. After all their smooth talking and paying for his attorney fees and planning for him to sell when he became laird, it sounded like McLeod was trying to cut him out.

  Meanwhile, in the house behind him, Loni was also revolving many things in her mind. By the time she went to bed that night, she had reached a decision. She would make arrangements tomorrow to fly back to the States. And if she hoped to get a new reservation on such short notice, she would need Maddy’s help.

  She could call from the house phone. But hearing Maddy’s voice would jar on her thoughtful mood. She didn’t want to get into a discussion about everything. Plenty of time for that later.

  She would walk into the village and fax her first thing in the morning.

  23

  A Different View

  Though she would not put him forward as representing the ideal man to spend an evening with—Loni smiled at the idea of comparing him with the Husband List at the back of her journal—the time with Hardy Tulloch had helped solidify her resolve regarding what to do.

  Yet in spite of having reached a decision, all through the night her subconscious was ill at ease. And she knew why.

  She awoke about seven and tried to put the gnawing unrest out of her mind. After what had become a daily morning fare of oatcakes and jam—she was going to miss the oatcakes—Loni returned upstairs to the master bedroom, took her suitcase from the closet, and flopped it on the bed. She opened it and stared at it a few seconds.

  Might as well get started, she thought. By this time tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, she would be on a plane heading home.

  The thought sent her mind straight toward the source of her discomfort. She couldn’t leave without apologizing to David Tulloch, the “chief.” She had behaved badly and knew it. Eating crow was never pleasant, but it had to be done.

  And if she was going to send a fax to Maddy from the hotel, she could not do so without seeing Audney. What a nincompoop to confuse her with Audrey Stanton! She had to apologize to Audney too.

  Bundling in her thickest sweater and then throwing her green scarf around her neck, Loni left the house two hours later. Taking the same path she had discovered yesterday, she followed a course directly west from the Cottage. Continuing past the point where she had turned toward the village before, she soon came upon a sizable stone cottage surrounded by diverse animal pens and several small outbuildings. She also saw sheep, several cattle, and a corral enclosing six Shetland ponies. Even as the place came into view, three or four dogs bounded toward her, barking and raising such a ruckus that her first instinct was to turn and run.

  But they were so friendly and boisterous that she soon realized she had nothing to fear. Coming from the direction of the small house she now saw a familiar figure ambling toward her.

  “’Tis a blessing tae see ye again, lassie!” said Sandy Innes.

  “And likewise to see you, Sandy,” rejoined Loni.

  The old man embraced Loni, then reached as high as he was able and planted a kiss on her cheek.

  “’Tis an honor tae welcome ye at last tae the Croft, my own humble bit hoosie,” he said, stepping back. “An’ hoo are ye farin’ on the island o’ yer kith an’ kin?”

  Loni smiled. “Just fine, Sandy. I have met some interesting people, taken a lot of walks, and I think am beginning to understand why you love your island so much.”

  “I am delighted tae hear it. Can ye come intil the hoosie for a drap o’ tea wi’ mysel’ an’ the two ladies?”

  “I’m afraid I need to run an errand in town,” replied Loni. “Unfortunately, my time here is about up. I am on my way to the hotel to send a fax home about my return arrangements. I had hoped to see you to say good-bye. I had a feeling you lived over here somewhere.”

  “Then on yer return til the Cottage perhaps. Oor wee croft is a plain enough place, but we’d be honored tae share oor table wi’ ye. Ah, here come the ladies noo,” he added with a glance toward the house behind them. “They were on their way intil the bakery.”

  Loni saw two ladies walking toward them, one as old as Sandy himself, the other somewhat younger.

  “Look who’s here, lassies,” said Sandy. “’Tis the lass I was tellin’ ye aboot, oor new laird hersel’.”

  The two ladies smiled a little shyly as they came.

  “Miss Ford, meet my sister, Eldora, an’ my daughter, Odara. These are the two who take sich good care o’ me.”

  “I am delighted to know you both,” said Loni, reaching out a hand to the elder of the two. The next instant, she was swallowed in an affectionate embrace. It was followed by a second from the younger. Neither of their wh
ite heads reached even to her shoulders. She was reminded of trying to embrace her tiny grandmother back in Pennsylvania.

  “Oh my!” she exclaimed. “That is quite a welcome for a stranger.”

  “Ye’re no stranger tae us,” said Eldora. “Ye’re family tae a’ the island noo . . . an’ oor laird besides.”

  “Ye canna know hoo happy we are that ye’ve come, lassie . . . I mean laird,” said Odara.

  “I’m not laird yet,” laughed Loni.

  “What for no?” said Sandy.

  “I still have to sign the papers and make legal arrangements. Nothing is final until all the i’s are dotted and the t’s crossed, as we say.”

  “But ye will soon enough, an’ we’re right glad.”

  “Aye we are, lassie,” added Eldora.

  “I must admit I am surprised to hear you say that,” said Loni. “Although knowing that you are Sandy’s sister and daughter, I suppose I shouldn’t be. No one has made me feel more welcome than Sandy. I am fortunate that he was the first person I met here. But I don’t believe everyone is glad.”

  “Only them that doesna understand,” said Eldora. “If it hadna been for yersel’, rumors were runnin’ wild that Hardy would shut up the mill. We’ve been worried sick aboot it. Noo that ye’re here, Sandy told us what a nice lassie ye are. We ken that ye’ll put everythin’ back the way it was.”

  “I’m certain that Hardy would not have shut down the mill,” said Loni. “He seems genuinely concerned for the welfare of the island.”

  The humph that sounded from Eldora’s lips could hardly be mistaken.

  “Ye’ve met him then, I take it?” asked Sandy.

  “Twice in fact.”

  “Don’t be fooled by the blackguard, lassie,” said Eldora. “He’s a connivin’ rascal, jist like his father.”