“I think the right clothes can help women with confidence, and the right makeup,” Pippa answered. “But what I’ve learned is that the biggest change comes from knowing your own self-worth. Ye do know how special ye are, don’t you?”
Freda bowed her head, but Pippa saw a small smile. “I’m beginning to see it.”
So there was hope for her yet.
At the hairdresser’s, Freda was converted into a chic version of herself. With a good cut, a new color, and a few highlights, she looked beautiful. She had a determination in her eyes that Pippa hadn’t seen before. Next they went on a shopping spree and found Freda some sharp outfits and flattering makeup, perfect to bring out her best features—her big eyes and nice smile.
Pippa was excited when they returned home to Gandiegow. “I can’t wait until Da gets a look at you.”
Freda laid a hand on her arm. “It’s late, dear. I’m worn-out and I’m sure he’s asleep. I’ve been through so much tonight. And, well, to be honest, I need to sleep on it myself to summon up courage again to see him.”
“You promise not to chicken out?”
“I’ll be brave. I’ll see Lachlan tomorrow.”
“Good.”
Freda stopped at her door. “Pippa?”
Pippa turned to her and saw the gratitude on her face. “Don’t say a word. It’s only a small amount to pay ye back for all ye’ve done for me.”
* * *
Lachlan shoved the contract away. He didn’t understand a word of it. His eyes were failing him, like his health, and he couldn’t concentrate worth a damn. He was old, tired, and worn-out. And wasn’t healing. Was this what the rest of his miserable life looked like?
He felt like such a failure. He used to be strong. Powerful. A force to be reckoned with. Now he expected little Mattie or seven-year-old Dand could whip his sorry arse.
He’d lied to Pippa time and time again since he’d opened the factory. Aye, everything is grand. He’d been stupid, arrogant, and prideful. But not anymore. The finances were in a shambles. He suspected Pippa had already figured out to what extent that he’d failed her, failed them all. He may have been a hell of an engineer, even a visionary once, but he was the worst sort of businessman. What made him think he could run a factory? The town would hate him when MTech took his subsea valve and shut down the factory.
He was too tired to even think about any of it anymore. He picked up the phone beside him and made the call. It was time.
Afterward, Lachlan dozed. Bethia stopped by with a plate, but he wasn’t hungry. When he woke up again, Pippa was coming in the front door.
She leaned her head into the dark room, but he pretended to be sleeping. Morning would be soon enough to tell her.
He heard her in the kitchen for a moment and then her feet on the stairs. Even after the house became completely quiet, except for the wind blowing outside and the waves crashing against the retaining wall, he couldn’t sleep. Failure robbed him of rest. Defeat encamped in his soul.
Before the sun came up in the morning, he heard the front door open. It would be Freda, come to make his coffee and breakfast. But Lachlan was too ashamed of who he’d become to see her. He wanted to call out to Freda that he didn’t need her here today, but he didn’t want to wake Pippa either.
In an hour when Pippa woke, would be time enough to shift the load to her . . . turn her life on its end.
The light went on in the kitchen. The frying pan was set on the stove. This was torture for him. Why couldn’t he just be left alone?
Freda stepped into the doorway. He could make out only her silhouette. “Lachlan?”
She hadn’t called him by his first name since they were children.
“Here,” he finally said. Anger flared. Where else did she expect him to be? As if he could come and go about the house of his own volition. He was an invalid and a burden.
She came into the room and turned on the small lamp. She was the only sunshine to his disastrous life.
Freda looked very nice and he started to tell her so. A new hairstyle? Was that a new outfit?
“Yere coffee is brewing. I brought you books this morning. They’re in the wagon outside.” She smiled brightly at him as though he’d tacked her sail into the wind. “I’ll go start yere breakfast now unless ye need something from me first.”
He wanted her to come sit near him, to tell him that everything was going to be all right. But it would never be again. He wasn’t the man that he once was.
And he wouldn’t do this to her. She’d come to mean a lot to him over the past several months. His affection for her had blossomed as she spent long hours sitting quietly with him beside his fire. He squashed down his growing feelings. It wasn’t fair. She was a good woman. She deserved a whole man. One with a future. One who wasn’t riddled with broken bones that wouldn’t heal.
“I don’t want breakfast,” he said roughly. “Take the books away. I’ll not be needing them either.”
“But—” she tried, her face turning red in pain and confusion. “I don’t understand.”
There was nothing to understand.
“Go home,” Lachlan said tiredly. He had to make it stick, no matter how much it hurt him to do it. “I’m not interested in yere bluidy coffee or yere breakfast or yere bluidy books. I want to be left alone.”
Freda gasped, clutching at her skirt, as if it could offer support.
He turned his head away but wasn’t quick enough. He saw the tears running down her cheeks.
Freda hurried from the room. He heard the door slam and knew that she was gone for good.
A minute later, Pippa came down the stairs and rushed into the den. “Is everything all right? I heard noises.”
Lachlan straightened himself, though he felt old and stiff. “We need to talk.”
“I thought I heard Freda.”
“Never mind about that.” Only a weak man would take his woes out on a woman. He shouldn’t have raised his voice to the kindest person he knew, his closest friend and ally. Instead, he should’ve told Freda how lovely she looked today. But now he’d ruined it all. If things were different, if he wasn’t so pathetic, he might’ve asked Freda to dinner. He should’ve done it long ago but he wouldn’t dream of asking her now. Freda deserved so much more than a weak man like him.
Pippa’s face deepened with concern. “What’s going on, Da?”
“I made a call to the law offices in Aberdeen yesterday.”
“What did you do?”
He nodded in the direction of the corner. “The papers are over there on the fax machine. I’ll sign them and then the factory is yeres.”
“I don’t want—”
He lifted his good arm to stop her protest though it pained him. “It would be yours eventually. I’m just safeguarding the future by doing this now.” He wouldn’t tell her that he’d given up hope.
“No.”
“I’m still the head of this family.” He didn’t have the strength to yell, but he was firm. “Ye’re fit to run it; I’m not. At least trust me on this.” Those last words completely drained all energy from him. He needed this over with. He didn’t want to talk anymore.
Pippa knelt beside him. “What’s changed? Do ye need a painkiller?”
“Nay.”
The way she looked at him, the pity in her eyes, she knew he was defeated, too.
“Now, get me those papers.”
She did as she was told. He retrieved a pen from the side table and signed. For a moment, she acted as if she was going to renew her protest, but then she signed, too.
“Now the power lies with you,” he said resolutely.
“You’re still going to help with the decisions,” she said. “Right, Da? This was just a formality.”
“I’m tired now,” he said, closing his eyes. “Turn out the lamp on your way out.”
“No.”
* * *
For the past hour, Pippa sat alone at her kitchen table while her tea got cold. She felt utterly lost. What was she going to do about her da? He’d clearly taken a turn for the worse, but he wouldn’t tell her what had happened. She wondered if she should have Emma do a psychological evaluation.
If Pippa had thought the weight of responsibility was heavy before, it was nothing but a pin compared to the two-ton lorry resting on her shoulders now.
Finally she grabbed her coat, deciding to appease the old ladies and make an appearance at Quilting Central. Her brain was on overload. As if the factory wasn’t enough to worry about, she couldn’t stop thinking about Max McKinley. It was as if her brain had been rewired. Ever since the Yank had stepped into Gandiegow, she’d been an emotional mess. And Alistair McDonnell was never emotional!
She would focus on one thing today. She’d sew. It would be mindless and it would get the old ladies off her back about getting the quilt done for the auction. Deydie insisted that Pippa needed to work on the quilt every day if she was to finish in time. Pippa really did want to honor her father, now more than ever. She just needed to put in the effort.
When she opened the door to Quilting Central, a cold breeze blew in with her.
“Shut the damned door, lassie,” called Deydie from the hearth. Then she and Bethia lumbered toward her.
“We’re so glad you could come in today.” Bethia pointed to the matronly twins across the room. “Ailsa and Aileen have offered to press for you while you sew.”
The bouffant twins in their matching red and green plaid outfits waved to Pippa.
“I can’t stay too long,” Pippa said, making her excuses now. “Da will need his pills soon.” She doubted he would be a willing patient today. “Has anyone seen Freda?”
“Nay,” Bethia said. “She’s not been by.”
Maybe Freda could get her da to open up.
Pippa took her place at the sewing machine. She decided to work on Freda’s block next, picking out the fabrics to represent her small cottage by the sea. She pulled the Douglas tartan from the stack and cut it to the right size. Then she found a piece of red fabric for Freda’s front door and attached it. Because Pippa wanted to do something special for Freda’s house, she embroidered a cross on one of the windows. This gave her an idea of what to give Freda for Christmas, though she was crunched for time. This year, instead of another soup cookbook, Pippa would hand make Freda a quilted pillow just like the quilt block.
Pippa almost didn’t recognize herself, having feelings that she’d never felt before. First, her crazy feelings for Max. Then feeling like maybe her da wasn’t the man she thought him to be. And now, finally noticing Freda for who she was.
Ross and Ramsay Armstrong appeared, followed by Abraham Clacher. And then a fourth person stepped inside Quilting Central, too. Pippa’s breath caught. Max.
Ross pointed to the far end of the room. “Deydie said we’re supposed to build it over there.”
The four of them stalked to the back. Max, Pippa noticed, couldn’t take his eyes off her either. But it wasn’t an ogle; it was more of a determined stare. She wondered what was on his mind, but she really should concentrate on the quilt block she had to finish.
The men measured the back wall, talked, and then split up. Max came straight to her. Ross watched him, frowning, but he left without saying a word to them.
“Pippa?” Max’s voice was teeming with determination. “We need to speak with your father together. Right now.”
“Why?” Pippa wouldn’t bother her da, especially since he wasn’t himself today.
Deydie, always the eavesdropper, seemed to have zeroed in on their conversation.
“We have to get down to business,” Max added as if to let Deydie know she wasn’t needed.
“Fine.” Pippa shut off her machine and stacked her two completed blocks.
Deydie let loose with her thoughts as usual. “At the rate that ye’re going on that quilt, lassie, ye’ll be lucky to get her done by the first snowfall of next Christmas.”
Pippa frowned at Deydie, not replying to the jab, and grabbed her jacket. She followed Max out.
Once outside, he turned and adjusted her coat, zipping it up. “You’re going to catch a cold.”
It felt both nice and scary to have him watching out for her; she knew from experience that it didn’t pay to count on a man. Not even her da. “I don’t need ye to take care of me.”
He pulled her hood up, too, his touch seeming to mirror his emotions—determined, matter-of-fact. “None of us are living in this world alone, Pippa. Accept a little help every now and then, and you’ll be a blessing to those who want to do good for you.”
“Since when are ye the Dalai Lama?”
His sternness dropped away. “Since you don’t zip up before going outdoors.” He surprised her with a genuine smile.
“So where’s yere boss?” she blurted.
His smile faded. “On a conference call. But I’m done talking about her.”
Pippa wasn’t. “Are ye and Miranda seeing each other?”
Max stopped short and stared at her. “No.” He seemed at war with himself for a second. “But if you’re asking if we have some history together, then I would have to say yes.”
I knew it! “What kind of history?”
Max pulled at his scarf. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine.” That should satisfy my stupid lips for wanting to kiss him again. “Thanks for the heads-up.” Pippa turned, ready to stomp off.
Max grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. “I’m not proud of what I did, but at one time, I led Miranda on, and I feel bad about it.”
“Aye. Ye and every other man in the world. All of ye are experts on deceiving. Maybe it’s a requirement of having a penis.” She meant to wound him, but the hurt in his eyes had nothing to do with her. It went deeper than that.
He dropped her arm. “It was three years ago. Right after the accident.”
Oh, God. “What accident?” she asked quietly.
“My brother’s accident.”
Pippa shivered.
Max stared at the sea. “Jake was on a Christmas errand for me. When he came out from the store, he had a flat tire. While he was kneeling down, fixing it, a car barreled into him.”
“No,” she said.
“He’s paralyzed now. His boy was only a year old when it happened. Jake is in a wheelchair and it’s my fault. I’m the one who sent him to pick up Mom’s present, a Kitchen Aid mixer. I was too busy, so I sent my little brother instead.”
“It’s not yere fault.” Pippa wanted to hug Max until the pain left his face.
“It is. A lot of things are. I led Miranda on. At the time, I would’ve done anything to keep the guilt at bay for my part in my brother’s severed spine.” His gaze fell back on her as if she was a priest taking confession. “I invited her out to dinner. Afterward, we went back to her place.”
Pippa backed away. “I don’t need to hear more.”
Max seized her hand. “Nothing happened. I couldn’t go to bed with Miranda. I couldn’t use her like that.”
Pippa was relieved, and at the same time, she could easily see how he might’ve done it to ease his pain. But he hadn’t.
“Max, ye can’t beat yereself up over it.”
He squeezed her hand. “I was surprised when the promotion came through because I knew that I’d be working for Miranda. I was relieved that she took the high road and had forgiven me.”
“But?” Pippa didn’t really want to know this either.
“I’m under a lot of scrutiny. We need to quit messing around and get the McDonnell to make a decision. I’ll fight to get
him the best deal with MTech. I promise. But I may not have a job much longer if I keep screwing around.” She heard the subtext with you tacked onto the end of his statement.
So spending time with me is screwing around?
It felt like a smack to the face.
“I suppose that’s my fault?” Pippa said, defensively. They were both hotheads, but she could win the title for the top hothead right now.
He dropped her hand. “Good God, woman. You’re the one who’s jacked me around with all your damn Christmas schemes.” He’d flipped the switch to angry now, too. “Tell the McDonnell it’s now or never. I can’t hold Miranda off any longer.”
Pippa had a vision of her father being trapped in Miranda’s net. She slammed her hands on her hips. “Keep Miranda away from my da. I’ll not have her upsetting him. Bluidy she-devil.”
Max didn’t back down either, glaring at her.
She would show him who held all the power now. “And secondly, Yank, watch how you speak to me.” She stepped into his personal space and gave him her best Alistair stare. “My da has nothing to do with the deal or the factory anymore. I’m the one ye’ll be negotiating with from here on out.”
That got him looking like a cod with his mouth hanging open.
She delivered the final blow. “I’m the McDonnell now.”
Chapter Twelve
Max stood there stupidly, trying to process what Pippa had just said. He shoved his hat back on his head. “What do you mean you’re the McDonnell?” He shouldn’t have been surprised—Pippa was a born leader, a warrior through and through. Which was sexy as hell.
He didn’t wait for her answer, but nodded in her direction. “If you’re the McDonnell, then you’re going to have to throw Miranda a bone. Invite her back to the factory. Flash the shutoff valve patents in her face. Promise to make up your damned mind soon about the partnership!”
Pippa glared at him. “Miranda seems to be the only thing on yere mind.”
He grabbed Pippa’s arms and shook. “Listen. Here’s what’s going to happen. If you and I don’t go over the contract together and hammer out a deal, Miranda or someone worse will take over.” Not to mention he’d be fired.
The Accidental Scot Page 17
