"Ouch," Angus replied.
"I think they are ready to flip over," he said, wiping some sweat from his brow with his forearm as the stove gave off heat.
"Then turn them each over and start the broiler," Margaret said.
Duncan fumbled with the knobs on his mum's stove. He wasn't sure which worked the broiler, but after turning several burners on and off he found the right one. Angus could not hide his amusement.
Margaret continued her instructions, "Now, get a sheet pan out from the cupboard to your left and when the steaks are perfectly seared, remove them to that pan and place them in the broiler."
Duncan felt the stress of the moment. What did his mum mean by perfectly seared anyway? He raced to the cabinet that held the sheet pans and searched for one big enough to hold all five steaks. The pans banged against each other, creating a painfully loud cacophony. Duncan pulled one from the shelf, then dropped it back on top of other pans when he discovered it was too small. Finally, he found an adequate pan and returned to the stove, grabbing the tongs to check the steaks. He showed his mother the underside of one cut. She eyed her son's work.
"That looks good, now remove them to the pan as I said, and place them on the lowest rung under the broiler."
Duncan turned the flame off and prepared to transfer the steaks to the broiler.
"No, leave the flame on the skillet. We're not done here," she stated.
Duncan put each steak on the sheet pan and placed them in the broiler. Then he returned to the skillet.
"Go to the refrigerator and bring the carton of cream, beef stock, and jar of mustard here. You'll find them all in the door. Then grab the whiskey from the cupboard. Hurry," she admonished.
He brought the ingredients to the stove and awaited further instructions. His mother held an abnormally long match in her hand. The match worried Duncan. His mother took a glance at the whiskey bottle, which was almost empty.
"Pour all of that in the pan and then set it on fire with this match. I'm sure you don't fancy singeing your eyelashes, so be careful," Margaret said, handing the match to her son.
"Oh, I've got to see this," Angus declared, moving closer to the action.
Duncan lit the match and poured the alcohol into the hot pan. He immediately placed the lit match inside the pan, and poof! The skillet erupted in a ball of flame. Margaret handed her son a long-handled wooden spoon.
"Quickly pour the cream and stock into the pan and stir with this," she instructed, retrieving a box of sliced mushrooms from the refrigerator. She continued, "Now add a large spoonful of this coarse grain mustard and keep stirring, bringing everything to a boil."
As the creamy liquid began to bubble, Margaret said, "Place the sliced mushrooms in the skillet and stir until the mixture is reduced by half. Then add another pat of butter to finish the sauce off."
Duncan performed these steps just as his mother instructed. The sauce smelled wonderful and so did the steaks. After the addition of the butter, the liquid took on a silky appearance.
His mum stacked plates next to the stove and said, "The steaks should be ready now. Put on some oven mitts and remove them from the broiler. Then, place each on a plate and top with your sauce. Voila! Steak Balmoral!"
When finished, Duncan was amazed at the beautiful dish before him. Margaret added a salad of mixed greens she had prepared earlier and rolls from the local baker. He was so involved in the process, he had not noticed his father and Harold come in and sit at the table.
Relieved he had not set his face on fire or burned the sauce, Duncan sat at the round kitchen table and cut into his Steak Balmoral. It was perfect, dark pink and juicy on the inside and charred on the outside. The bite melted in his mouth. The mustard sauce was heavenly. Even Angus was impressed. He made no wise cracks during dinner. In fact, silence reigned as everyone savored the steaks.
"See how quick and easy it is to prepare a proper meal," his mum said. "All it takes is a little planning. You have no excuse to eat out of a box anymore."
Smiling, she handed Duncan an index card with the recipe for the dish he just made.
"It was quick, but I'm not going to say easy. I worked up quite a sweat in there!" he said, laughing, but he was glad to have the recipe.
Once everyone finished their meals, he asked his father, "Dad, what do you know about your heritage? Mum says you have a MacNab tartan somewhere."
"Aye, I've a kilt made from the MacNab tartan. It was a gift from my dad. My father was a MacNab."
"Someone recently told me I looked like a Menzies. Do you know if any of our ancestors were Menzies?" Duncan asked.
"Well, I've never heard that. But, it would certainly be possible that there's a Menzies or two up in our family tree. The Menzies and the MacNabs held territory close to one another," he stated. He continued, "Let me think."
James Dewar stared off into space for a moment.
"The Menzies clan motto is Vil God I Sal, or With God I Shall. Terrific isn't it? I believe some of the Menzies came from France. Are you partial to France, Duncan?" his father asked with a twinkle.
"Just hoping to get to the bottom of which clan to read up on," Duncan replied, then changing the subject he asked, "Harold, how are things at the garage? Is Angus treating you well?"
Chapter 13- Edinburgh
Duncan could not wait for Caroline's call. He started the morning with a trip to his barber, then made sure his attire was perfect. Now, he anxiously passed the time until she arrived at the Balmoral. He planned to bring her round the house to meet his family once she had time to freshen up. He arranged an early check-in for her and hoped she would be in Edinburgh by two p.m.
A few minutes after three, his cellular rang. Caroline confirmed she had arrived and had been shown to her room.
"It's a wonderful space and I have a view of Saint Giles. Thank you, Duncan, I'm so glad I came," Caroline declared.
"I'm glad you came too. I've reserved a spa treatment for you. Would you like to have that now or tomorrow morning?" he asked.
"Oh, you really are spoiling me, aren't you? I think I'll save that for tomorrow. I just want to see you now," she said.
Duncan felt a surge of heat run through his body.
"I'll give you thirty minutes to freshen up, then I'll call you from the lobby," he said.
"That sounds perfect. I'll see you then."
Duncan checked his appearance in the mirror once more before leaving. He had switched cars with his father, so he could drive Caroline around in a roomy sedan instead of the Vauxhall. He wanted everything to be perfect for her visit.
The drive to the Balmoral Hotel was short, but time seemed to lengthen infinitely as Duncan made his way there. Traffic lights and pedestrians protracted the trip. When the hotel finally appeared, a swarm of passengers arriving from the nearby train station flooded the street, blocking his route. After this delay, he left his car with a valet man and rushed up the steps towards the hotel entrance. A footman opened massive glass doors and Duncan glanced around for a house phone, ignoring the cellular in his pocket. By the time he reached the florist near the back of the lobby, he realized he could ring Caroline on his mobile phone.
He picked up the bouquet he had ordered yesterday and walked to one of many plush seating areas in the lobby. As he called Caroline, he noticed smartly dressed people buzzing through the reception area. A quick glance around the hall revealed massive crystal and gold chandeliers, which cast a soft glow everywhere. Ornate moldings, painted in gold leaf, added to the opulence. An impossibly tall Christmas tree, decorated in gold and silver, contrasted beautifully with the burgundy carpet and walls. Impressively scaled artwork depicting the Scottish countryside and various Old Town landmarks hung from picture rails. If not for all the hotel patrons, Duncan could have been in some lord's country estate.
"I'll be right down!" Caroline answered with excitement, then immediately hung up.
Duncan had hoped to meet at her room, but did not get the chance to suggest that. He
trained his eyes on the elevators and waited. It took a while for him to spot her.
Several elevator cars emptied hotel guests into the lobby before hers arrived. The brass doors opened once more and people dressed in dark tartans, reds and greens poured into the lobby. Among them, one person stood out. Duncan saw her immediately. Dressed in a light blue, Caroline strode into the lobby. He watched her as she scoured the area with her eyes. She wore a long fur coat dyed icy blue. The coat tapered at the waist and flared from there like a ball gown to just below the knee. Its hemline sported heavy floral embroidery, stitched in cream threads. The same embroidery was scantly applied to the garment's waist as well. Her shoes and stockings were a barely visible winter white.
Duncan noticed her hair bouncing at her shoulders as she moved through the reception area, still searching for him. Just watching her gave him immense pleasure and he did not intend to cut the moment short by approaching her, not yet anyway.
She moved towards the Christmas tree, an obvious meeting place for people hoping to find each other in a crowd, and continued scanning the room. Once, he thought she had seen him, but her eyes continued moving through the area. Duncan stood and walked to a pillar closer to the tree. He positioned himself so he had a clear view of Caroline, while the pillar somewhat blocked her line of sight to him. He watched as she took note of the details of the lobby, her face shining with admiration. She tilted her head to examine the high, ornate ceilings, and Duncan caught a glimpse of her long, lithe neck and a hint of her collarbone. Her skin appeared luminescent, like ground pearls had been sprinkled over her neck and face. He could no longer postpone their meeting. He stepped from behind the pillar and walked slowly towards her. She did not notice him until they were almost face to face. Then, her eyes sparked with recognition and Duncan knew she had finally spotted him.
He handed Caroline the bouquet and kissed her cheek, allowing his lips to linger there before moving his mouth towards her ear and whispering, "You are so beautiful."
She pulled back slightly, and smiled before throwing her arms around his neck.
"You look beautiful as well," she said in his ear.
After the embrace, Caroline examined her gift.
"It's just gorgeous!" she gushed.
Duncan had selected a bouquet of white roses and hydrangea with red winter berries interspersed amongst the flowers. The blooms had been flown in from warmer climates.
"I've never seen anything like it," she added.
The florist at the Balmoral was known for her artistic, original arrangements.
"Ready to get out of here?"
"Not yet," she whispered, staring up at Duncan.
He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her against him. He held her there for a moment, not moving, just gazing in her eyes before kissing her hard on the mouth. He slipped one hand up from her waist to the back of her neck, preventing her from pulling away from his kiss. He didn’t care who saw their passionate embrace and he wanted to prolong it for as long as possible.
"Now are you ready?" he said, releasing her.
"Well, yes," she stammered, " but what shall I do with these?" Caroline asked, nodding towards her flowers.
"The desk will take care of them."
Duncan guided Caroline to the front desk and asked that the bouquet be taken to room 208 and placed in a vase with water. Then, he took her hand and walked toward the entrance, past the Christmas tree.
"Did you see the tinsel on the tree? There must be thousands of strands, all perfectly placed. I've never seen a more beautiful tree. It's like something from an old movie. The entire hotel is wonderfully done up for the holidays," Caroline commented.
Duncan smiled, still admiring her. He had no words, but his pleasure knew no bounds. He handed a ticket along with a generous tip to the valet attendant, and they brought his car around post haste. He held the passenger door open for Caroline himself and saw she was buckled in before trotting to the driver's side.
As they drove away from the hotel, Duncan asked, "How familiar are you with Edinburgh?"
"Not very, I have to admit. I haven't spent much time here at all," Caroline said.
Duncan reached for her hand and gave it a small squeeze, but did not release it from his grasp.
"Good. I want to show you the best of the city this afternoon. Are you up for climbing a few steps?"
"Of course!"
Duncan found a spot near Princes Street to park the sedan, then helped her from the car. She placed her arm through his and he guided her to a flight of steps that led to Calton Hill, known for having the best view of Edinburgh. As they ascended the hill, Caroline was clearly impressed. It was cold and overcast, so the couple had reason enough to huddle close. When they reached the top, Caroline gasped at the view.
"This is spectacular!" she said.
Duncan pointed out the main sites, New Town, Holyrood Palace, the Castle, and the dormant volcano known as Arthur's Seat.
"That," Duncan said, "erupted 300 million years ago. Now it's a popular place to hike. There's Saint Andrew's House, the headquarters of the government, and the Scottish Parliament Building," he added, nodding his head towards each structure.
They wandered the hilltop, exploring the numerous monuments. Duncan suggested that Caroline guess what each was for. They examined a tall, round, stone tower in the distance, with what appeared to be a white cross on the top.
"That's got to be a monument to the navy. The white cross symbolizes the North Star which every sailor used for navigation."
"Close. It's the Nelson Monument, built to honor Nelson's victory over the French in 1805. On Trafalgar Day, navy signal flags are added to the monument which read England expects that every man will do his duty, a famous phrase of the Vice Admiral."
"I'm amazed at your knowledge," she gushed.
"That's what the internet's for, isn't it?" Duncan admitted with a laugh.
They approached a multi-columned monument that resembled a mini Parthanon.
Caroline said, "I have no idea what this is for. It looks Greek."
Duncan sighed.
"This is the National Monument, otherwise known as Edinburgh's Disgrace."
"That sounds dour."
Duncan glanced down at Caroline, who just happened to look away from the monument and at him that same moment. Duncan lifted her chin and gave her a soft kiss, full on the lips. Every fiber of his being wanted to linger in that kiss, but he forced himself to pull away.
He continued, "They call it Edinburgh's Disgrace because it was supposed to be a much grander monument, but lack of funds dictated this instead."
Caroline hit his upper arm playfully.
"Let's continue, shall we?" she said.
They walked to where they had a view of a dark gray stone monument from which a large obelisk protruded.
"This one's a little spooky. See how the stone has turned black from weathering? The obelisk is shaped just like the Washington Monument back home, but I don't think it's a tribute to him. It looks like it belongs in a cemetery," Caroline remarked with a shudder.
"It's the Political Martyr's Monument and…"
Caroline interrupted before Duncan could finish, "Let's not go into that. It sounds depressing."
"All right, we'll move on to what I think is the best view of all," he said.
They walked to a round, stone structure that resembled a gazebo. Tall columns supported the slightly pitched roof. It looked like a garden folly from a stately home. An ornate iron fence kept visitors from climbing on the monument. A large urn occupied the center of the gazebo and another ornament rested on the top. A string of laurel wreaths had been carved below the roof. Beyond the elegant structure, the city stretched. From here, Caroline could view ultra modern and ancient buildings, clock towers and churches, thoroughfares and alleys.
"The view is breathtaking!" she said, hurrying ahead of Duncan.
"Yes, it is," Duncan said quietly, following her. "Stop right there, Caroline
," Duncan said, raising his cellular phone.
She turned and he snapped a photo of her in front of the Dugald Stewart Monument.
"The best view of all," he repeated his earlier comment loudly.
Caroline blushed and turned to enjoy what she could see of the city. Duncan stepped close behind, wrapping his arms around her. He nuzzled his chin against her neck.
"This is the Dugald Stewart Monument," he whispered. "Mr. Stewart was a professor of moral philosophy at the University of Edinburgh in the 1700's. The view is even better from here at dusk, when the lights start coming on. You'd need more practical shoes to navigate this then, though," he said.
They stood, enjoying each other as much as the view for many minutes.
Finally, Duncan asked, "Would you like to take tea?"
"Mmm, that sounds wonderful."
Duncan held tightly to Caroline's hand as they descended the steps and headed for Princes Street and the sedan. Duncan drove to the Royal Scotsman Hotel and left his car with the valet attendant. He had made reservations, and a host led the couple through a lobby festooned with greenery into a wood paneled dining room. The wood was stained a light caramel color and included simple moldings. A soaring ceiling decorated with delicate carvings and the vast abundance of floor to ceiling paneling made the room extraordinary. Duncan and Caroline strolled past tables clothed in crisp white linens and highly polished silver, on the way to their window seat.
The maître d' angled the table so Caroline and Duncan could access the curved banquette seat, upholstered in a tartan plaid. Then he returned the linen clad stand to its original position, creating a snug spot for the couple. A handsome young waiter, hair slicked back, attired in a crisp tuxedo jacket, brought the tea cart. They chose the limited edition House Christmas Tea. The waiter poured the amber liquid into china cups, monogrammed in gold with entwined capital letters RS. Its steam rose to reveal the scent of cloves, cinnamon and citrus. Caroline asked for lemon, like an American, while Duncan added milk to his cup. She stirred honey into her beverage, inhaling the wonderful aroma of the tea. A three tiered serving tray, placed on the table by their waiter, held savory tarts, miniature cups of soup, and an array of small pastries.
Mystery: The Merlon Murders II: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 2) Page 13
