Chapter 9 #2
“Finding everything, okay?” She asked with a dazzling smile aimed directly at him, completely ignoring Daisy. “I’m Tiffany. Let me know if you need anything at all. And I mean anything.”
Daisy narrowed her eyes at Tiffany’s over the top flirting. She stepped closer to Callan, almost possessively. “We’re good, thanks,” she said curtly.
But perfect little Tiffany wasn’t so easily warned off. She stood there waiting until Callan emerged from the fitting room in a pair of faded jeans and a snug pale blue tee that made his eyes pop. Daisy thought Tiffany was going to slobber all over him.
“Those look amazing on you,” she gushed, openly ogling Callan.
“You must work out, like all the time. What’s your secret?”
Callan held up a black tee. “Weel, I dinna have much choice. Sword-fighting and riding keep a man from running to fat.”
Tiffany giggled as if he’d said something adorably funny. “With arms like those, I’m sure you’re good with your hands.” She winked suggestively.
Red filled her vision, and without thinking, Daisy grabbed Callan’s arm, pulling him to her side, ignoring his grin.
“He’s taken,” she said, glaring daggers at Tiffany. “So back off, Barbie.”
Tiffany held up her hands in mock surrender, an amused smirk on her face.
“Sorry, didn’t realize he was your boyfriend. You do know he’s way out of your league, right?” With that parting jab, she sauntered away.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Callan turned to Daisy, a huge grin on his face. “Boyfriend? I thought ye said ye did not wish me to be yer man.”
Daisy flushed, releasing his arm abruptly.
“I just wanted her to stop drooling all over you. It was totally unprofessional,” she sniffed, avoiding his gaze.
A masculine, low rumbling laugh made her scowl. When she looked at him, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face.
“Ye weren’t jealous, were ye, lass? Ye know, I only have eyes for one lass, and it isn’t that one with hair like straw.”
Instead of answering, Daisy busied herself gathering up the clothes, trying to act nonchalant.
When she didn’t answer, he leaned in close, his breath tickling her neck.
“Do ye want me, lass? Say the word, and I am yours.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Let’s just pay for these and get out of here before Tiffany drowns you in a pool of drool.”
With a laugh, he took the pile of clothes from her, carrying them to the register.
As they made their way across the store, Daisy couldn’t help sneaking glances at him.
Maybe she had gotten a little carried away with Tiffany, but the thought of any other woman putting her hands on Callan made her see green.
She told herself it was just friendly concern, nothing more.
As they exited the clothing store, arms laden with shopping bags, Daisy turned to Callan.
“I don’t know about you, but after all that shopping, I’m hungry. How about we head over to Quincy Market for some lunch?”
Callan’s stomach rumbled in response, making them both laugh. “Aye, lead the way, lass.”
They stowed the purchases in the car and made the short drive to the bustling market. Seeing her city through his eyes made her happy, taking away the pain of her best friend moving away, and erasing the loss of Shawn.
Inside the market, they wove through the crowds to the food stalls, the air thick with the scent of sizzling meats, spices, and baked goods.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“That is clam chowder, a Boston specialty,” Daisy explained. “Rich, thick, and loaded with potatoes, clams, and bacon. Trust me, you’ve got to try it.”
They ordered two bowls of chowder and found a table amid the lunchtime rush. Callan took a tentative spoonful, then closed his eyes in bliss. “Ach, that’s good.”
When he’d finished, he turned his head, scenting the air, then jumped up.
“Where are you going?”
He called out over his shoulder with a grin, “my turn to bring you something.”
The salesclerk at the register had kindly tossed the old clothes Callan had been wearing. He was now dressed in the faded blue jeans, a red tee, and a pair of comfortable black shoes.
As she sat there, watching him, she wondered what his story was, what had really happened to him, and made a mental note to call the Faire and see if they had any information about him.
When he returned, he was carrying three lobster rolls.
“Callan, you shouldn’t have.” Daisy protested, taking the hot roll. Then she shrugged and smiled. “But I’m glad you did. I love lobster rolls.”
As they polished off the last bites, she couldn’t help but marvel at his enormous appetite.
“Where do you put it all?” she laughed, patting her own full stomach.
Callan winked at her. “I’m a growin’ lad. I need my sustenance.”
As he spoke, he pulled out a couple of gold coins from his pocket, gold glinting in the sunlight.
“Callan, let me see those,” she said urgently, reaching for the coins.
He handed them over, puzzled. “What is it, lass?”
Daisy examined the coins closely, her heart racing. “You had these at the park. These are really old, like centuries old. And they’re in amazing condition.”
She looked up at him, her mind whirling with possibilities.
“We need to take these to a coin dealer, someone who will appraise them. If these are genuine, they might be worth a small fortune.”
Callan’s brow furrowed. “Get green paper for my gold?”
“You said you were out of money. Let’s find out what they’re worth.”
Callan was quiet for a long moment, considering. “Aye, I suppose yer right. I canna live off your generosity forever.” He sighed, tucking the coins back into his pocket.
“That isn’t what I meant.” She touched his arm. “You’re welcome to stay with me … it’s nice having you there. But I think the coins are valuable and if you sold a few of them, you’d have plenty of money.”
“Then we shall see this dealer of coins.”
As they left Quincy Market, bellies full, and spirits high, Daisy and Callan strolled through the bustling streets of Boston enjoying the afternoon.
Suddenly, the distant sound of bagpipes caught Callan’s ear. He stopped in his tracks, head cocked to the side, listening intently. As they rounded the corner, they saw a man in full Scottish regalia playing a haunting melody on the pipes.
Daisy glanced at Callan and was surprised to see a mix of emotions playing across his face. Nostalgia, longing, and a deep sadness.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, touching his arm.
Callan blinked rapidly, as if coming out of a trance. “Aye, lass. It’s just... hearing the pipes, it makes me think of home. Of my mum.” He swallowed. “And my brother, William. Lord Blackford, he had a piper at Blackford Castle, said the lad saved his wife, so he paid the man to stay on.”
Daisy’s eyes widened at the mention of his brother’s title, but she remained silent, letting Callan continue.
“He gave me a bag of gold, just before I... before I left.”
Daisy nodded. “Let’s see what the dealer says about them. I know you don’t have a phone, but I bet we can look up your brother and at least send an email.”
The sorrowful look on his face made her pause.
“Callan? What is it?”
“He’s gone, lass. He and his wife are long dead.”
That didn’t make sense, but maybe his memories were jumbled as they were coming back? She was going to ask him to elaborate, but they turned onto a quiet street and there was the coin dealer’s shop.
A tiny bell jingled as they pushed open the door, announcing their arrival.
Behind the counter sat an elderly man with a shock of white hair and keen blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He looked up as they approached, a warm smile on his face.
“Afternoon. How can I help you today?”
Callan reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold coins, placing them on the counter.
“I wish to sell ye this gold.”
The old man’s eyes widened as he picked up one of the coins, examining it closely under a magnifying glass.
“Incredible,” he breathed. “These are from the early 14th century.”
He looked up at Callan, astonished. “Where on earth did you acquire these, young man?”
Callan shifted uncomfortably. “They were given to me by my brother, William. Lord Blackford, in England,” he said quietly.
The dealer nodded, sensing there was more to the story but choosing not to pry.
“Your brother must have been quite well-off.”
He carefully inspected each coin, making notes on a pad of paper. After several minutes, he looked up at Callan, a glint of excitement in his eye.
“I would be very interested in purchasing these from you, if you’re willing to part with them. Given their rarity and condition, I could offer you a truly substantial sum.”
He scribbled a figure on a piece of paper and slid it across the counter. Daisy’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she saw the number of zeros.
Callan, however, hesitated. “I dinna ken,” he said slowly. “These coins, they’re one of the few ties I have left to my brother.”
The old man nodded, understanding. “Of course, I respect that. But if you do decide to sell, even just a few of the coins, I’d be happy to purchase them from you.”
Callan was silent for a long moment, deep in thought. Finally, he sighed.
“Aye, yer right. As much as it pains me, I ken I need money to make my way.” He looked at the dealer. “I’ll sell half of them and keep the rest.”
The old man’s face brightened. “Wonderful.”
As they left the shop a short while later, Callan clutched a check for more money than he’d ever seen in his life.
Daisy explained about the check, how he could turn it in for the green paper as he called it, as they made a trip to the bank. Since he had no identification, they had the dealer put the check in her name and after she deposited it, gave him the money, a great deal to be sure.
“You can always sell the rest of the coins later,” she said softly. “But I understand wanting to keep a piece of your brother close. When you’re ready, will you tell me about him? About England and Scotland?”
He nodded at her. “Aye, I will, lass.”