by Traci Hall
“Hardly. I did order you a rental car for three days—the Juke is at Edward’s Mechanic. But he cannae even look at it until tomorrow.”
“Totaled?” She couldn’t afford a new car, or a new car payment. “I wasnae hit that hard.”
“Hard enough tae crumple the front end and deploy the airbag,” her friend argued. “He didnae say totaled. He said he couldnae look at it yet. Don’t borrow trouble.”
“Good advice.”
The best friends walked to Lydia’s red Mercedes. “Did they give ye pain meds? Do we need tae stop at the pharmacy?”
“He did, but I have enough for tonight and tomorrow morning. Regular ibuprofen will be fine after the shot he gave me wears off.”
Lydia scrunched her pert nose and got in the car. “I put a note on the shop door cancelling Knit and Sip.”
Paislee groaned and checked the time. Quarter past six. She’d forgotten all about it. “I cannae cancel. I have tae finish those key fobs, and a sweater, and Mary Beth has her blanket. The ladies need their night out.”
“Reschedule for tomorrow night. I’m disgustingly free, even on a Friday. Do ye ken I havenae had a date in two months?”
“I’ve told you, men are afraid tae ask you out.”
“That’s not the man I want in me life then.” Lydia sighed and started the car. “But going tae dinner at a nice restaurant would be fun.”
“I’d take you, but I’m a little under the weather.” She touched the neck brace and tried to deliver a pain-free smile. “I guess we can reschedule for tomorrow night.”
“Do you need tae stop by Cashmere Crush for anything?”
“Naw. All the ladies’ numbers are in my mobile.” She searched the space by her feet to make sure she had her purse. Her mind was a wee bit fuzzy, and she had a sudden urge to giggle.
“So, what happened?”
She sobered, thinking of the drop past the guardrail. “I was hit from behind, going from Lowe Farm tae the valley. There’s that corner, and then the cliff?”
Lydia gasped. “That could have been bad.”
“Aye.” To tell, or not to tell?
“So, hit-and-run then?” Lydia questioned. “Why do I feel like yer holding somethin’ back?”
“I think it was on purpose.” She peeked at her friend.
“Why on earth would someone do that?”
She drew in a breath, not wanting her painkiller buzz to completely disappear—she had a feeling intense pain would follow. “Detective Inspector Zeffer thinks maybe because I was talking tae people about Isla.”
Lydia slowed around the traffic circle, then made a right, toward Paislee’s house. “The detective visited you at the hospital? Paislee, what is going on?”
“Billy told me that Roderick was not the only person Isla was going to blackmail, and that he didn’t break Isla’s heart. So, I went tae Vierra’s Merino Wool Distributor, tae visit Roderick Vierra. I dinnae believe that Isla was depressed, like he said, you know? I wanted tae confront him and get the truth.”
“I dinnae have a guid feeling aboot this.”
“Roderick admitted tae seducing Isla—and then firing her because his brother caught them in the warehouse doing, you know. . . .”
Lydia smirked. “I get the picture.”
“And it wasnae the first time Roderick had an affair. He’s a real dog. I dumped coffee in his lap.” A dormant giggle escaped but turned into a sob. “I should’ve protected Isla, and instead, I helped her get a job working with the devil.”
“Stop that—you cared for her. How could you have known? I would’ve loved tae see you douse him with hot coffee!”
“It wasnae that hot.”
“Still.”
“If not for Gran, I could’ve been just like Isla—”
“That’s not true. You have an inner strength that she didnae have, and it didnae have anything tae do with her heart condition.”
“She was dealt a rotten hand.”
“I agree with you there—but she could have made different choices.”
“I really miss Gran right now. She’d heat the kettle and warm the scones and talk it out. She had a way of listening.”
“I know. I remember.” Lydia reached over and gave her wrist a squeeze.
“I didnae have a chance tae tell the detective before the doctor returned with the results of the MRI aboot Isla blackmailing more people. He wants me tae see him at the station tomorrow.”
“I think you should stay home and rest.”
“You know I cannae do that.” The cars on the street seemed to blur by. “I hope he questions Gerald,” Paislee said. “I’m fairly certain that the car that hit me was a fancy silver one.”
“That guy’s BMW.” Lydia tapped a finely manicured nail against the steering wheel. “You think he was that upset about us questioning him? I’ll go talk tae him right now, on my way tae the showing.”
“No! Lydia, until we find out what’s going on, we need tae lay low.” Paislee shivered, unable to keep from touching the soft fabric around her throat. “I dinnae want anyone getting hurt on account of me. Zeffer told me that Isla’s mum, Charla, will be here in the morning. I feel that once they are together, Isla will be at peace, then.”
“Guid. That means ye can leave all this alone.”
“I’m not in any condition—”
Lydia arched a black brow over a smoky gray eye. “It sounds tae me like you’ve been given a warning. Heed it, Paislee, please. No more questions. You can let Isla’s mum take care of Isla.”
She knew Lydia was right, but her heart wasn’t as certain things were settled.
Lydia parked in the drive at Paislee’s house next to a white Sentra. “I had it delivered—your grandfather should have the keys. Should you even be driving?”
“I’m fine! Just sore.”
“Dinnae overdo it. Let your grandpa help. Funny how he’s fit into your life just when you needed it.”
“Funny is one word for it,” she agreed. There were others she could think of. “Good luck with your showing. I’ll text you before I go tae bed about the Knit and Sip for tomorrow.”
Lydia waved, then rolled up the window and backed out of the drive onto the street. They lived in a quiet, older neighborhood, and at dusk most folks were inside preparing dinner.
Dinner. What was in the pantry? Something easy, maybe cereal with berries, though that wouldn’t win her the Mum of the Year award. Her heels dragged with exhaustion.
Paislee entered and had made it two steps down the hall when Brody lunged at her from the living room.
“Mum!” His arms clasped around her middle and things suddenly felt a wee bit better.
“Hey now, it’s all right.” She hugged him tight and ruffled his auburn hair.
He pulled back to look at her. “Is yer neck broken?” His voice pitched up.
“No, no. It’s called whiplash—a sort of sprain.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not much.” Yet. “I have medicine.”
“Grandpa made dinner and put it in the cooker. He set the timer so it willnae burn. I was verra worried, but Lydia and Grandpa said not to call, and I don’t have me own mobile to text ye, and it isn’t fair.”
Wallace pawed at her leg, curiosity in his licorice drop eyes.
She winced as she leaned down to scratch behind his ears. “It’s awright now.”
Brody dragged her down the hall to the kitchen table. “Grandpa, Mum’s home. What happened to yer face?”
Ach, she forgot to put the makeup on her cheek. She raised her hand over the throbbing flesh.
“Just a bruise, that’s all.”
Grandpa turned off the telly and joined them at the table, taking her in from head to toe. “I’m glad yer home, lass.”
The timer sounded and her grandfather opened the cooker, allowing the scent of garlic to waft out.
“That smells wonderful—what did you make?” Ten times better than cold cereal no matter what.
“I helped make potatoes, too, Mum. I got tae use the knife.”
Paislee’s eyes immediately dropped to her son’s fingers—which were all still attached. “Oh?”
Her grandfather took out the pan. “I found some ham and made cheesy potatoes. Used the last of the milk, though, so we’ll need tae make a trip tae the grocery store. If ye give me a list, I can go after dinner.” Grandpa pointed to the keys on the counter. “For the rental.”
“That would be”—her eyes welled—“lovely.” It had been a very long time since anybody had taken care of her.
“Can I go, too?” Brody looked from her to Grandpa.
“If yer mom agrees, and after the dishes are done, aye.”
Paislee wasn’t allowed to even set the table as Brody and her grandfather did it all. Then, after dinner, she was shooed to the living room and onto the couch with a cup of tea, while they did the dishes and made a list for supplies at the grocery store.
She gave her grandpa the only cash she had—an emergency twenty pounds in the flour canister.
“I can help when me check comes in,” he told her.
“There’s money in the grocery budget,” Paislee assured him, “but I dinnae think ye can use my card. This will be enough for milk and some fruit. If ye see something that you’d like and have enough, be sure tae get it.”
“Well, Craigh never complained about my pot roast.”
Paislee nodded. Someone else to cook? She wasn’t going to say no.
The two left and she was overwhelmed by the silence. She put her feet on the couch and Wallace jumped up beside her for a snuggle.
She texted Amelia, Flora, Mary Beth, Elspeth, and Lydia about Knit and Sip for Friday night so they could all catch up on their projects—she was fine but would see them tomorrow, if they could make it.
All five immediately responded in the affirmative.
Her eyes slowly closed as she fell asleep.
Chapter 21
Paislee woke up from where she’d fallen asleep on the couch, just before dawn—Brody and Wallace both snuggled on a blanket on the floor at her side.
Bless them, she thought. Her guardians.
She tried to move and groaned—it seemed her muscles had stiffened overnight. Wallace blinked at her but stayed curled up with Brody. She carefully avoided Brody’s sprawled body and climbed the stairs, avoiding the creaky ones.
Twenty minutes later, she’d used all of the hot water, but she could move without crying. She swallowed her ibuprofen.
What to wear? Paislee chose a pink plaid button-up shirt that she didn’t have to pull over her head with room for the soft brace, jeans, and brown leather flats. No bending or tying. Her hair would be down today. Not having the strength to style it, she’d let it do what it wanted.
Sitting at the vanity, Paislee used a stick of concealer to blot over the bruise on her cheek. It was no longer red but had faded to a pale purple.
When she went downstairs, her grandfather had cereal bowls out on the table along with the milk and the box of Weetabix. Brody was making his cheese sandwich at the counter.
She didn’t care if they’d only called a truce while she was under the weather, and she wasn’t going to complain about the amount of butter spread on the bread or that two packets of crisps had made it into Brody’s lunch box—nary an apple in sight.
Grandpa handed her a steaming mug of Brodies Scottish Breakfast and she took it gratefully. “Thanks. Sairy that I fell asleep last night on the couch. Were you watching over me, Brody, lad?”
“Just in case you needed me, Mum.”
“I hope the floor didnae hurt your back!”
He stretched and touched his fingers to his toes, springing back up. “Naw.”
Grandpa Angus chuckled. “It’s been a while since I could touch me toes.”
“I made you a sandwich, too, Mum. And Grandpa.” He tossed the knife in the sink and raced to the table to pour cereal into his bowl. “Grandpa said ye might need him at work today? Lydia texted aye, aboot knitting tonight.”
“My messages?” She filled a bowl with cereal, then added milk.
“I didnae mean tae read them,” Brody said earnestly, “but when I put yer phone on the charger, Lydia texted.”
“I dinnae even remember you coming in last night.”
“You were knackered,” Brody assured her. “I blew in yer face and everything.”
She laughed—that was the true test of whether or not she was faking on a Sunday morning, trying to get a few more minutes of rest.
Paislee touched the brace. “We’ll see how long I can wear this thing, but it’s already bothering me. It doesnae hurt, but it itches. It’s supposed tae restrict my movement.”
“What did the doctor say?” Brody scooped a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“At least two days, but we’ll see.”
“You have tae do what the doctor says. That’s what you tell me.”
And now he remembered every last thing she said? “I’m tae see Dr. Whyte next week tae make sure everything is healing as it should. But I dinnae have a life of leisure—I told the doctor that.”
“I can help,” her grandfather said. “Ye can show me this morning where tae put the yarn from Flora.”
“That would be excellent, thanks.” Some of the shelves required a ladder to reach. “My next order from Jerry”—she met Grandpa’s eyes—“McFadden? Ye met him the other day?” Grandpa nodded. “Will be in on Tuesday, so it’s just a matter of powering through today and Saturday.” The festival. “Sunday we’ll all collapse.”
“Will ye be able tae work at the booth, Mum?”
“I’ll be fine.” She had to be. In years past, she and Lydia would take turns being inside the shop to ring up orders, or outside at the table to hand out the freebies. Brody amused himself with his tablet and video games.
Brody swallowed a bite of cereal. “I’ll hand out the keychains and sit at the table with ye. But I get an elephant ear, right?”
He loved the fried dough treat, and having a bribe guaranteed good behavior. “Right.”
“My friend Edwyn said his dad has a comic book booth . . . they’re giving away posters!”
She saw where this was going and held up her hand. “Getting the booth set up first is the most important thing.”
“But what if they’re gone?” His tone implied that it might be the end of his existence if he didn’t get a poster.
“I’ll take ye,” Grandpa volunteered. “I used tae read comics.”
“Did they have comics when you were a kid?” Her son chewed a blueberry. “That was a loooong time ago.”
Her grandfather scratched his beard. “Or maybe not.”
“What?” Brody asked, too innocently.
And so ended the truce. “Lydia showed me a possible new place tae lease, but not only was it out of my price range; it was boring and white.”
“Can’t ye paint?” Grandpa asked.
“Booooring,” her son repeated, slurping the last of his milk.
“Paint wasnae the only problem, so we’ll keep looking for a space I can be at for the next few years.”
“Are ye buyin’?” Grandpa poured a few pieces of cereal into his bowl and picked at them, eating them dry.
“I wish.” Paislee sipped her tea. “Someday I would love tae own me own shop, but that isnae where we are right now.”
“No money,” Brody said with a scowl. “When I get older I’ll buy you a shop, Mum.”
“That’s sweet, but it is my job tae take care of you, my lad. Now finish up so we can go.”
He bolted upward. “I’m so proud of ye, Mum—four days in a row without a tardy!”
She sat back. “Do ye want me tae sell ye tae the gypsies?”
Brody darted past with an unrepentant grin. “Try and catch me!”
Wallace barked and raced after him up the stairs.
She didn’t bother yelling at them to keep it down. It would only hurt her head.
“He�
��s a guid boy,” Grandpa said. “Wouldnae think of leavin’ ye tae sleep alone last night.”
Her heart warmed with love. “Thanks for stepping in. Did you hear back from the police department yesterday, in Dairlee?”
“They think I’m a dodgy old codger without a workin’ brain in me head. Makin’ up Craigh’s job.”
She patted his wrinkled—but very capable—hand. “Let me get through this week and I’ll do more.”
“I know ye will, lass. You have problems of yer own.”
“Gran used tae say that God—”
“Wouldnae give ye more than ye could handle. Aye, I remember well, usually after a fourteen-hour day on the fishing boat while she was fixing me a bowl of Cullen skink.”
“Her chowder was the best.” Smoked haddock, onion, and cream. They shared a smile.
The house phone rang and she jumped, startled, checking the caller ID before she handed the phone to her grandfather. “It’s the Dairlee police.”
His face lost all color as he took the receiver.
“Hello. This is Angus Shaw.”
She only heard Grandpa’s side of the conversation—should she leave or stay? He gestured for her to sit at the table.
Paislee held her palm out for the phone and pressed the speaker button.
“. . . returning your call from yesterday. As we have told you before, sir, there is nothing more we can do about helping you locate your son.”
“Did ye search for a rig named the Mona?” Grandpa asked.
“Aye. We have found nothing.”
Her grandfather clenched his hands into fists and rested them angrily, impotently, on the table.
“And the missing person’s report I filed?”
“There have been no leads in the month since you filed it.”
He slammed his fist to the table. “And how much manpower have ye given tae it?”
The police officer spluttered, “I c-c-an promise you that we have explored every avenue available tae us.”
“Meaning ye put the information I gave ye into the computer and forgot about it.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you today, Mr. Shaw?” The question was asked with forced politeness.
She shook her head at him before he said anything too foul to regret.
He blew out a breath. “You havenae done anything for me yet.”
