He refused to back down. “And have I given you the impression that I’m demanding something of you? I’ve asked for information and nowt more. Friend to friend and neighbor to neighbor.”
Andrew stood just outside the door of Kaye’s house and waited for an answer. She hadn’t asked him in, which was unusual, too. Kaye had been a close friend of his mother, and she had always been partial to Andrew. She herself had given birth to nothing but girls, slight, fairylike creatures with graceful manners and delicate features. They might as well have been fairies, for all she’d understood them. But she had understood and appreciated Andrew, and she had always been there to cuff him soundly on the ears if he misbehaved or—more rarely—to clap him on the back if he didn’t.
“My mum asks about you often,” he offered at last, when she still hadn’t answered.
She moved aside with an audible sigh and gestured him inside. “You may or may no’ find a place to sit,” she said. “It’s up to you to look for one. I’m far too busy to do it for you.”
Andrew stepped past her into the hallway, now a labyrinth of cartons and furniture piled into eccentric sculptures. “So it’s true, you are moving.”
“Aye, and glad I am of it.”
He navigated the labyrinth successfully. Kaye’s house had never overflowed with decorative touches, not until her husband had died and the girls had grown old enough to have their collective way. But it had always been scrupulously clean, with mismatched furniture lined up against the walls in military precision. Now all was chaos.
“I’ve nowt to offer you,” she said bluntly when they had wound their way into a cluttered sitting room. “The coffee’s lost somewhere in the kitchen, and you know how I feel about tea. More’s the pity it’s too early for whisky, even for me.”
“I did no’ come for refreshment.”
She folded her arms, engulfed by a man’s shirt, and tapped her sandaled, glamorously pedicured feet. “So why did you come? To say goodbye? You could have saved a trip. I want no goodbyes. I’ll be leaving soon, and that will be that.”
“Is it that easy, then? You’ve lived here all your life. Your family’s had this property for how long? Three generations? Four?”
“It matters no’ at all how long they had it. Someone else has it now.”
“Martin Carlton-Jones and Nigel Surrey.”
Kaye narrowed her eyes. “And who were your sources for that wee slip of information?”
He touched his forehead with his forefinger.
“Mr. Carlton-Jones said that Iain Ross might cause a fuss, but he neglected to mention you,” she said.
“So he told you that Iain would be unhappy?”
“And what care I?”
Andrew was sorry to be correct. Even though he had suspected the worst, he had hoped for better. Martin Carlton-Jones and Nigel Surrey were developers who specialized in holiday communities for the British upper class. For almost a year now they had made no secret of their opinion that Druidheachd could be a cozy Highlands retreat for the rich and famous. Iain had already called their hand once, but it seemed that now they were back and more insidious than ever.
The room where he stood was small and simple in design. There was a narrow window on each of three identical walls and a blackened stone fireplace on the other. The draperies had been removed, and the fireplace mantel was clear of everything but the ingrained soot of centuries. Andrew lifted a book from the carton nearest him and examined the title. “You always loved a good mystery. I still have several you’ve loaned me.”
She batted the air disdainfully. “Keep them. I dinna need another thing to move.”
“We share that, you and I. I love a good mystery, too. But I sense a real one here. Why would a woman who loves the loch as you do sell her inheritance to strangers, take the cash and move to a place she does no’ love?”
“Och, it’s no’ so difficult, Andrew. There’s no need to summon Hercule Poirot or Jane Marple. My girls dinna want this place. One’s in London, one in Paris, one in Aberdeen. I’ve grown too old to care for the cottages alone, and why should I? So that when I die, my girls can reap the profits? No, I’ve sold it myself. I’m moving to Spain or Portugal, I’ve no’ decided which. I’ll sit outside in the sunshine all day if I like. And when I die, there’ll still be plenty of money to divide between them. No’ that any of them need it.”
He was silent. He understood everything that she’d said, but he also understood the things she hadn’t. She had been forced into a corner, with too little capital to make needed improvements and too little strength to go on as she had. She had convinced herself that unlimited sunshine would make up for the loss of lifelong friends and a proud heritage. Sympathy filled him, but he knew that Kaye would hate sympathy as much as pity.
And there was still a mystery.
“Fine, then. Let’s say there was no other way to do things. You woke up one morning and determined that you had to sell. Why Carlton-Jones and Surrey? Iain’s made it plain to everyone that he’ll buy property on the loch and beyond if it has to be sold. He’s warned of strangers coming here to quietly buy up what they can until Druidheachd is no’ Druidheachd any longer but a summer resort.”
“Your friend Iain has his own reasons for wanting my property.”
“And what would those be?”
“He wants it all, does he no’? It’s no’ enough that he’s inherited most of the countryside. Now he wants it all, village, loch…. And what are his reasons, do you suppose?”
He forced himself to speak slowly, without passion. “I suppose his reason is to protect a village he loves and a way of life that needs to change slowly and carefully.”
“He’s greedy, your Lord Ross! That’s why he wants it all.”
Andrew held himself in check. He had known this woman all his life. “Carlton-Jones and Surrey offered you more than the property was worth, did they no’, Kaye? More than Iain would have. Did you no’ see that this was the way they plan to make their start? They offer more than your property’s worth, and they’ll offer more to the next man or woman, too. Then, when things have changed so profoundly that no one wants to live here, they’ll snap up what’s left at a half or a third what it’s worth.”
She sniffed. “They paid more than I ever thought I could get! But no’ because of a plan such as the one you’ve outlined. They’re no’ that crafty, Andrew. They offered it because of the sighting. Do you no’ see? They’ve an idea that this will be the next Loch Ness. They dinna know our creature. They dinna understand that she shows herself rarely. And by the time they do understand and the tourists are all gone again, I’ll be gone, too. With their money.”
He heard a plea for understanding and acceptance. He could only shake his head. “They are no’ fools. They are the very men that Iain warned you about. My darling has nowt to do with their hunger for our land.”
“Have you become like your friends, Andrew? Duncan Sinclair owns the only hotel in the village, and Iain Ross owns most of the property outside it. Have you become greedy, too? Do the three of you want to control all that happens here? Is that what this is about?”
For a moment he couldn’t speak. Anger flared so fiercely that it threatened to consume his good judgment. Then he calmed, a millimeter at a time. “Kaye,” he said at last, “you have two choices, I think. You can look into your heart and remember who Duncan, Iain and I truly are. You can remember that you’ve known us since the night we were born, that as weans you bounced us on your knee and dinged our wee bottoms when it was needed. Or you can forget what you know and believe the lies of two men with nowt to gain from telling the truth.”
He didn’t, couldn’t, wait for her response. He picked his way across the floor and brushed past her without another word. Spring sunshine had brightened the sky when he first entered the house. He noted that, as he left it, dark clouds were forming.
* * *
As a young man just old enough to take his first drink, Andrew had refused, to the di
smay and ridicule of his friends. He had been solidly in his twenties before he tried beer and older still before he turned to whisky. Even now he monitored his own response like a diabetic checking insulin levels. He knew exactly how much he could drink and still maintain his wits. He made certain that periodically he stopped drinking entirely, just to be sure that he still could. And daily he told himself that if the moment ever arrived when he badly craved a drink, he would never take another.
Today, after his confrontation with Kaye Gerston, he ordered whisky with his supper at the hotel pub, savoring the roar as it plunged to his empty stomach and echoed through his body. He would have liked a repeat, but instead he took his meal, cold lamb and colcannon—a puree of potatoes and turnips combined with chopped cooked cabbage—to a table in the corner. Frances Gunn, the hotel cook, made the finest colcannon in the Highlands, but today Andrew ate without tasting it.
Days had passed since he had seen Fiona. He had thought it wise to give both of them time to distance themselves from the events on his boat. Instead he had spent all his time remembering how she had felt in his arms.
He wanted to see her tonight, but he hadn’t come to the hotel to find her. He knew that she wasn’t upstairs, that this morning she had gone to Glasgow with Duncan. Several weeks before she had begun to make the journey with Duncan whenever he went in for meetings. Fiona visited Sara in the hospital while Duncan worked. Andrew suspected it wasn’t easy for her, that each time she stepped in to the burn unit she was assaulted by memories. But she went anyway, because it did Sara and Pamela good to have her there.
“Two can stare at the wall same as one.” Iain lowered himself into the chair beside Andrew and set an identical plate on the table.
Andrew hadn’t heard Iain approach. He adjusted his chair so that he could see his friend. Marriage had been good to Iain. Like a feral cat who had been adopted and domesticated, he still retained his watchful demeanor and quick reflexes. But Iain was more content than Andrew had ever hoped to see him, a far more optimistic version of the man he once had been.
“Thanks for coming,” Andrew said. “I did no’ really expect you to get away.”
“Billie’s off in the country somewhere with Mara, and it’s not often I get to sample Frances Gunn’s cooking these days.”
“Billie’s every bit as good a cook.”
“Absolutely true. But she doesn’t cook this.” Iain pointed his fork at his plate. “Or kedgeree, or boiled beef and hodgils.”
“My mum made kedgeree every time you came to eat with us, you liked it so well. She always said that if you grew tall and strong, it would be her kedgeree that did it.”
“How is she, Andrew? I haven’t spoken to her since I told her about the wedding. Have you persuaded her yet to come back for a visit?”
“She will no’ come, and I know better than to expect it. I visit her whenever I’m able. She’s made friends in Fife, and she has a job she enjoys in a shop there. I think she’s fair satisfied with her life.”
“I plan to take Billie to meet her one day soon.”
“She’d like that. She always asks about you and Duncan. She was so happy to meet Mara and April in the autumn.”
Iain began slicing his meat. “You didn’t ask me here to discuss old times, did you?”
Andrew considered how to begin. He had always been a direct man, never the least confused about what to say and when to say it. But his relationship with Fiona seemed to have changed all that. Now there was much he questioned and even more that he doubted. And most of all he doubted himself and his own ability to make things right.
“Kaye Gerston has sold her property on the loch to Carlton-Jones and Surrey,” he said, when nothing better than the blunt truth occurred to him.
Iain took his first bite and didn’t speak.
“Aye, it was a shock for me, too,” Andrew acknowledged. He knew his old friend too well to be fooled.
“So, they’ve made a foothold at last.”
Andrew pushed his own plate to one side and tilted back his chair to see Iain better. “I spoke to Kaye this morning. I spent the remainder of the day speaking to everyone who would speak in return.”
“And?”
“There are several more who are considering offers. John Warren, Nancy Reed, the Coopers, who own most of the western shore and my favorite cove.”
“I’ve spoken to each of them in the past and promised to buy their land at fair market value if they ever wanted to sell.”
“Aye, each of them mentioned as much.” Andrew reached for his spoon and began to drum idly on the table.
“When you do that, I know things must be worse than you’ve said.”
“Have you done anything, Iain, that might have angered the villagers?”
“Are they angry?”
“Aye. And all had the same defense. You have more than you should. You want more than you should. Duncan is a greedy American and you’re an arrogant laird. They’ve nowt bad to say about me. No’ yet. But I felt a chill in the air as we spoke. I’m one of the men of midnight, for all that.”
Iain carefully laid his fork on his plate. It was the equivalent of another man pounding the table with his fist. “I’ve been nothing less than fair to anyone here. I lease land at a rate far under that of other landlords, and I do whatever upkeep is necessary. My standards are high, my relationships with my tenants are superior—or at least they have been until now. I’ve sold property when I’ve been asked, and donated land and money whenever the cause has been just. I certainly have more than any man deserves, but I was born with it. And I’ve rectified that whenever I was able.”
“Who is it you’re trying to convince? I know who you are and the way you manage what’s yours. And I know why you want to keep Carlton-Jones and Surrey from Druidheachd.”
“They’re vampires. They’ll suck the blood from Druidheachd so quickly not even a transfusion will help. They’ll take it all. Every last rock and grain of sand for miles around, and they won’t rest until they’ve gotten what they want. It’s a matter of honor now, because I threatened them. Months ago I told Martin I would use my influence, as well as all the information I have about the ways in which they’ve acquired land in other places, to keep them away from Druidheachd. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that I could stop them, but I expected to slow them down, perhaps enough to rethink their ambitions. Apparently even that was foolish.”
“What can be done about it?”
“Does it matter what I can prove? Will anyone listen now? Martin and Nigel have obviously taken me at my word. I said that I would use my influence, and they’ve begun to erode that.” There was nothing humorous in Iain’s smile. “That’s the part I didn’t foresee.”
“And the part that hurts?”
“Aye.”
The two men stared morosely at each other until a third voice interrupted. “The two of you are looking pretty sober. Shall I get Brian over here with a bottle of our best?”
Andrew gazed up at Duncan. He was glad to see his friend, despite the strain that had developed between them since Fiona had come to Druidheachd. He silenced the internal voice that pointed out that Fiona must be back now. “Have a seat, Duncan. This concerns you, too.”
Duncan grabbed a chair from another table, which wasn’t difficult. The tables nearest them were suddenly vacant, which inevitably happened when the three men of midnight sat down together. “Everyone’s moved away,” Duncan said. “Did you see that? No one left in shouting distance.”
“You make too much of it, as always,” Andrew said.
“Someday I’m going to rig the lights. Then when I come over to join you, I’ll have Brian shove a switch somewhere and the whole place will explode in bursts of lightning.”
“And never more will another patron walk through that door.”
“It might be worth it.” Duncan leaned back in his chair like both of the others. “So what’s going on?”
Andrew filled him in as succinctly as he
could. Duncan listened, and nodded when appropriate. “Well, that explains why it’s been so hard to get anyone to work for me or you, Iain.”
“I’ve been thinking about it all day. The beauty of the scheme is this,” Andrew said. “The villagers believe that Carlton-Jones and Surrey only want their land because of my darling. But the villagers also know her habits well. They believe that when time passes and she’s no’ sighted again, the land will no longer have value. So they want to sell while they can. Carlton-Jones and Surrey have reinforced their view. Both men are very adept at looking like fools.”
“When you were making your rounds this morning, did you ask those who are considering a sale what would happen if your darling was sighted again? Wouldn’t that increase the value of their land further? Shouldn’t they wait to sell?” Iain asked.
“Aye, I thought of that. They responded that if my darling is sighted again, it will bring more tourists, and they’re fair tired of the ones who are here already. At that point, they would want to sell anyway.”
“A truly neat trap,” Iain said. “Our credibility is questioned, our options narrowed. I’ll do what I can to expose Martin and Nigel, but by the time I can make my case, it may be too late. If too many sell, there will be little incentive for the others to hold on.” He stood and looked at his watch. “I have to get home. Billie should be back soon. Let’s talk some more tomorrow.”
The other men nodded. They were silent until Iain had left the pub. “Did you have a good day in Glasgow, Duncan?” Andrew asked. He couldn’t resist the next question. “And did Fiona see Sara?”
Duncan didn’t look at him, which was unusual. He looked just over Andrew’s shoulder at nothing. “Andrew, she’s still there.”
For a moment Andrew was confused. “Sara?”
“Fiona. I’m afraid Sara’s taken a turn for the worse. One of those infections that can complicate things in an instant. Fiona phoned while I was in a meeting. She plans to wait there all night if she has to, but she refused to leave until she got some news.”
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