Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
T he workshop’s overhead fan whirred steadily, stirring the sawdust-laden air in a drowsy evening atmosphere that matched Tom’s mood. He’d chosen his workbench carefully - clear view of both exits, which he realized with a start was exactly what a certain schoolteacher had teased him about last week. The thought made him smile as he carefully sanded the edge of what would become a bookshelf for Ella. She mentioned some new books she’d picked up and right then and there he’d decided to make her something to hold them.
“Found you!”
Tom barely suppressed a groan as all three MacGregor brothers materialized at his workshop door, both Gareth and Liam carrying what looked suspiciously like a couple of six-packs. They had that look - the one that meant someone’s life was about to get considerably more complicated. Usually his.
“Evening, lad,” Gareth settled onto a nearby stool, cracking open a beer and sliding it across the workbench. “Thought it was time for a wee chat.”
“No,” Tom said flatly, not looking up from the oak plank he was working on, though his fingers twitched toward the bottle. “You thought it was time to meddle.”
“Such harsh words.” Liam pressed a hand to his chest, his blue eyes dancing with barely contained mischief as he distributed the remaining bottles. “Can we no’ simply share a drink with our favorite brooding woodworker?”
Tom looked between them - Gareth’s attempted innocence, Liam’s barely contained glee, Aiden’s steady observation. The last rays of sunset filtered through the workshop’s dusty windows, catching the gleam of tools arranged with military precision on the wall. This was his territory, his space, and they were invading it with purpose.
“What do you want?” He turned back to his sanding, the familiar work steadying his hands.
“To discuss your glacial pace with Ella,” Liam announced cheerfully, taking a long pull from his beer. The words jerked Tom back to the present.
The sandpaper slipped in his hands. “My what?”
“We’ve been watching you with her.” Gareth’s voice gentled, taking on that peculiar formal tone that sometimes slipped into his speech. He gestured with his bottle before taking another sip. “The way ye look at her when ye think no one’s paying attention. Like she’s the sun rising after centuries of darkness.”
“And let’s not forget the great car rescue,” Liam’s grin widened. “I’ve never seen a man move so fast with a toolbox.”
“Enough.” Tom set down his sandpaper harder than necessary. “My relationship with Ella?—”
“Ah!” Liam’s triumphant cry echoed off the workshop walls. “So ye admit there’s a relationship!”
“—is none of your business,” Tom finished through gritted teeth, finally giving in and reaching for the beer. The cold glass felt solid in his hand, grounding him.
“Everything in this town is our business.” Gareth straightened, something ancient and knowing flickering in his eyes as he finished his first bottle and reached for another.
“I need to focus on my work,” he said finally, brushing sawdust from the plank.
“And ye’re hiding behind that excuse for how long?” Aiden’s eyebrow rose as he nursed his drink. “Until she finds someone else?”
“I’m being practical.”
“There’s being practical,” Gareth leaned forward, his voice dropping low, “and there’s stalling. Which are ye doing, lad?”
The question hit like a physical blow. Tom remembered Ella’s smile when he’d fixed her car, how the morning sun had caught her hair as she taught, the way her whole face lit up when she talked about her students. His chest ached with wanting things he didn’t deserve. He took a long drink, letting the bitter taste wash over his tongue.
“She deserves better,” he managed. “Someone whole. Not someone who still wakes up fighting old battles.”
“Ach, ye think any of us came to love without scars?” Something softened in Gareth’s expression. “The question isn’t whether ye’re worthy of her. It’s whether ye’re brave enough to try.”
“Besides,” Liam added casually, settling in with a second beer, “ye’re not the only one noticing how special she is. That unmarried history teacher’s been asking rather pointed questions about her availability.”
Tom’s head snapped up so fast his neck cracked. “What?”
“Got your attention, did that?” Liam’s expression was entirely too knowing. “Funny how the thought of competition makes a man reassess his priorities.”
“I’m not—she’s not—” Tom struggled for words past the sudden tightness in his throat. “This isn’t a game.”
“No,” Aiden agreed softly. “It’s life. And life doesn’t wait for perfect moments.”
The brothers stayed well into the evening, their empty bottles collecting on the workbench as conversation drifted to other topics - town gossip, upcoming projects, shared memories. But Tom’s thoughts kept circling back to Ella, to possibilities he’d been too cautious to consider.
When they finally left, Tom remained at his workbench, nursing one last beer as he studied the half-finished bookshelf components scattered before him. Professional instincts kicked in immediately - the grain could be better matched, the joints more precise... but maybe some things didn’t need to be perfect to be worth pursuing.
“Blasted Scots,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it. The first stars were just beginning to emerge through the workshop windows, reminding him of another night when Ella had shared stories about her husband, about loss and healing and finding the courage to try again. He took a final sip of his beer, letting the quiet of the workshop settle around him. Maybe it was time to stop being so careful with more than just wood.
Maybe it was time to pick up the pace.
Ella sat at her computer in her apartment, staring at the screen. The pendant lay on the table in front of her, drawing her attention as it had been doing more and more lately. Ever since the MacGregors had mentioned it, she’d found herself wondering about its history.
Why hadn’t she thought to look it up before?
Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed in various search terms, but nothing seemed quite right. She leaned back from the screen to study the pendant before her. It was a delicate oval of silver, its surface etched with intricate Celtic knots that framed a tiny thistle at its heart. The metal had aged to a soft, romantic patina, catching the lamp light like a whisper of moonlight against the dark wood of her table. She turned it over in her hands, watching how the ancient silver seemed to hold secrets in its careful craftsmanship.
As her fingers rubbed the piece, she couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t just an heirloom—it was a part of her story, as timeless and enduring as the family tales that had been passed down with it. Though those tales, she realized, were surprisingly few.
The next morning, she headed to the Harvest Moon Café, hoping a change of scenery might help clear her head. As soon as she walked in, she spotted Lissa at one of the corner tables, her laptop open and a steaming cup beside her.
“Decaf,” Lissa said mournfully when she caught Ella looking. She patted her rounded belly. “Three months of torture to go.”
Ella laughed. “The things we do for love, right?”
“Don’t even get me started.” Lissa took another sip and made a face. “Gareth keeps telling me it’s all worth it, but I’m not sure he understands the true sacrifice of giving up caffeine.”
Ella hesitated for a moment, then decided to take the plunge. “Hey, you do research for movies, right? How do you go about researching things from the past? Like antiques and such?”
Lissa brightened. “Pull up a chair. What are you trying to find?”
“This actually,” Ella said, lifting the chain from her neck and placing the pendant carefully on the table between them. Something flickered across Lissa’s face – discomfort? – as she stared at the necklace. “You MacGregors have mentioned it a few times, and I realized I don’t know much about it.”
“Let me show you some tricks.” Lissa shifted her laptop so they could both see it. “Our local library is more of a charming book exchange box than a research facility, but online...” Her fingers flew across the keyboard, bringing up various databases and websites Ella had never heard of.
After several minutes of searching, Lissa sat back. “Well, this is interesting. Based on the design and craftsmanship, it looks like your pendant dates back to the 1500s. Similar pieces have sold for around two thousand dollars.”
“Two thousand?” Ella’s hand flew to the pendant. “Not that I’d ever sell it, but... wow.” She leaned in closer to look at the screen, then froze. “Wait, is that... does that say MacGregor clan?”
“The thistle pattern is associated with them,” Lissa said carefully.
“But there are six MacGregors right here in town.” Ella’s mind was racing. “Is that why the men keep mentioning it? Do they recognize it?”
Lissa just shrugged, but something in her expression made Ella pause.
“Is everything okay?” she asked. “You seem... I don’t know, worried about something?”
“Oh, just pregnancy brain,” Lissa said quickly. “Gareth says I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t attached these days.”
Ella wasn’t entirely convinced, but she let it go. Everyone had their own concerns, after all. “Thanks for helping me look this up. I can’t believe I never thought to do it before.” She touched the pendant again, wondering about all the necks it might have graced over the centuries. Though she supposed it could just as easily have been picked up at a thrift store a couple generations back.
Still, as she left the coffee shop, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story.