Chapter 10 Tierney
Afew days after Perri’s update, I was in the B and B and finally able to see my future business coming together.
Before everyone arrived, I’d taken some progress videos for socials.
Now Cammie stood at my side with Quinn and a representative from the independent kitchen designer we’d selected.
Arthur worked for the small, family-run business based in Fort William and had come all the way from the mainland with samples.
This was the exciting part. Choosing all the design elements.
Arthur had his laptop open and was leaning on a makeshift table Quinn had put together. He had a design app open and was adjusting the layout as we all discussed what would work most practically for a B and B kitchen.
“The range looks great and would be perfect for this Victorian building,” Cammie mused as we looked at a brochure of range ovens.
“I think four fitted ovens on this wall”—I pointed to the back of the room—“would be more practical.”
“Agreed.” Quinn nodded.
Cammie glared at her brother and then turned to me. “What about a compromise? Two ovens on the wall and then a range oven center here.” She gestured to the middle of the back wall. “It will give you your hob top, two more ovens, and a proving drawer if you want to make your own bread.”
“Do you make your own bread?” Quinn asked.
I grinned cockily. “I do, actually.”
“You know, I never even thought to ask if you can cook and you’re opening a B and B.” He chuckled.
I arched an eyebrow. “I like to bake and I’m all right in the kitchen.
My best friend is a chef and she’s given me some pointers over the years.
” Speaking of London reminded me that my best friend hadn’t replied to the text I sent a week ago.
I’d been so caught up in island life. I made a mental note to call her later.
“But I will be hiring a chef to do all the breakfasts.”
“So shouldn’t the chef be here?” Arthur asked from behind us.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Oh, I haven’t hired one yet.”
“You do realize it might be hard to get a chef,” Quinn told me. “Not everyone wants to live on an island.”
I shrugged. “People are always looking for work, even if it’s just seasonal. And like I said, I can cook, if I need to.”
“So … range or fitted?” Quinn pushed, sounding a bit impatient. Most likely because we’d been in what would become the kitchen for an hour already. “Gas or electric? I need to know if we need to run a new gas line in here.”
“I think a chef would say gas,” Cammie opined.
I could hear London disagreeing vehemently in my head. “Actually, my friend prefers induction. They have induction stovetops in the kitchen she works in, and she says they cook faster, you can better control the heat, and they’re easier to clean. Not to mention better for your health.”
“I stand corrected.” Cammie chuckled. “I’m going to lose this one, aren’t I?”
“Actually. No. I like the idea of having the proving drawer. I think two fitted ovens on the wall and an induction top range cooker in the middle is a good compromise.” I glanced back at Arthur with a grin. “Did you get that?”
He chuckled. “I’ve got it.” He picked up the laptop and brought it over. “What do you think?”
I studied the digital image of the kitchen we’d designed together in the last hour and grinned.
“This is perfect.” There was an island but no seats since the kitchen wouldn’t be used for guests.
The island had the sink and was all extra countertop and storage.
There was a microwave drawer on it, a wine cooler, and cupboards on the back for whatever we needed.
“That color is going to look amazing.”
We’d gone for a pale blue shaker-style cabinet. Cammie and I already selected the perfect tile for the kitchen wall and a Victorian wallpaper to really give the kitchen impact. Even if the guests wouldn’t be in this room, I wanted it to match the feel of the rest of the renovation.
One of Quinn’s men, a younger boy on his team, walked into the room, eyes to me. “Sorry to interrupt, but we found this package at the front door. It’s not addressed to anyone.”
“Oh. I’ll take it, thanks.” I took the package and wrinkled my nose because there was a rank smell emanating from it. It was a brown envelope that bulged in the middle with something that felt roundish and hard. There was nothing on it.
No stamp or address. No name.
Weird.
“What is it?” Cammie asked.
“I have no idea,” I murmured as I tore the top open and peered inside. “There’s no name—oh my God!” I dropped it instinctually, my pulse pounding in my ears.
My companions exploded with questions and Quinn marched over to pick up the parcel, his expression tight with concern.
“It’s a bird,” I told him quickly so he wouldn’t put his hand in it. “I think it’s a dead bird.”
His eyes rounded a little and he moved to upend it from the envelope but suddenly Ramsay was there, as if appearing out of nowhere. “Don’t touch it,” he commanded.
Lowering to his haunches beside Quinn, I noted Ramsay’s T-shirt was damp from sweat from whatever he’d been working on. He had pliers in his hand, and he clamped them on the opposite end of the envelope and shook out the contents.
Dismay, confusion, and dread filled me at the sight of the dead bird.
A dove.
“Is that real?” Cammie asked, keeping her distance.
“It smells real,” Quinn replied softly.
“It’s real.” Ramsay nudged the bird over with his pliers. “Someone broke the wee thing’s neck.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Why?”
He looked up at me. “This was addressed to you?”
Sudden realization dawned, but I shook my head, unable to speak around the fear clamoring through me.
“No. There was no name, no stamp or address,” Quinn offered.
“A dove?” Ramsay scrutinized the bird. “Whoever did this had to have bought this dove from a pet store. They bought an animal only to kill it and leave it here as a threat to someone?”
“Threat? What’s going on?” Cammie stepped forward, anxious.
“A dove.” Ramsay’s voice was rough as he seemed to stare dazedly at the dead bird. “It’s a symbol of peace and freedom.”
“So … what? Someone is saying … they’re going to kill someone’s peace.” Cammie huffed. “What does that mean?”
It meant Halston Cole knew I was onto him.
It meant … if I didn’t leave the company alone in peace … I was next.
“Tierney, does this mean something to you?” Quinn asked.
I shook my head, unable to speak the lie out loud.
“Is there anyone unhappy that Tierney bought this place?” Cammie asked her brother. “I haven’t heard anything. Have you?”
“No. There was some pushback from members of the community council, but none of them would do this,” her brother replied. “It had to be an outsider. They must have ferried over today.”
Cammie hovered near Ramsay and Quinn. “Do you have CCTV up on the house?”
“No. We didn’t think we needed it. We can, though, if you want that, Tierney?”
“Should we call the police?” Cammie asked before I could respond to Quinn.
“And say what?” Ramsay rasped out, taking the bird by the pliers and placing it gently back in the envelope.
“There could be fingerprints on that envelope,” Cammie insisted.
“I’ll take care of it.” Ramsay stood, giving Quinn a sharp look that made his brows draw together. Then he turned to me. “Authorize the CCTV, Silver.” Then he walked out with the envelope that was my evidence.
Yet, I couldn’t stop him without admitting that I knew the threat was definitely for me and it had nothing to do with me renovating the B and B.
RAMSAY
There were no fingerprints on the envelope.
Or the poor wee birdie.
I tested both.
Dread knotted in my gut.
Jay texted back an hour ago to assure me there were no traces of me on the internet.
Yet, it seemed someone with a grudge had found me.
Frustration and fury mingled as I petted Akiva’s head and stared out at the surrounding woodland.
Summer nights on Stòr lasted long into the evening, but this was the first night in August where the gloomy clouds above hadn’t chased the night into an early start.
Sunlight filtered through the lush leaves and I already missed the peace the sight usually brought me.
I took a pull of my beer and scratched behind Akiva’s ears. She’d clung to me all day since I’d left the B and B, not only smelling the dead bird but sensing my dark mood.
There were multiple enemies who might have sent this.
If they came, I’d deal with them.
What worried me was the collateral damage.
Already, it had impacted Silver.
She’d looked like a ghost after opening that package.
I knew she had a soft heart, but after hearing her talk of her parents the other day, I realized how soft and vulnerable that heart truly was.
Whoever sent the package would pay for putting that look on Silver’s face.
The knot in my gut only tightened.
She was a problem.
I barely knew her, but she was a problem. The woman filled my mind more often than she should. If I didn’t find a way to banish her from my thoughts, she’d become a weakness.
When I came to Glenvulin, I had none.
Then Akiva became one. Then Quinn, Cammie, the lads in the band, the villagers.
I didn’t need the kind of weakness Tierney Silver could become.
The kind of weakness that would wreck me.
Maybe Silver’s grandmother had been right about knowing yourself.
Because before her … I didn’t think there was anything left of me to be wrecked.