32. Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Mystery Woman and the Holy Grail
“Whisky?” The woman standing before her offered, holding up a cut crystal tumbler-style glass filled with shimmering liquid gold.
Immediately, Violet liked her, and it wasn't just the offer of a good stiff drink. Sometimes, you can just tell when someone is your kind of person. “Definitely,” she answered with a broad smile, accepting the offered glass. “Thank you.”
"Slainte Mhath." The woman raised her glass to Violet’s, and then both ladies took a sip.
“Mmm. This is beautiful," Violet said, letting the flavour roll on her tongue.
“Couldn’t agree more." The mystery woman smiled back.
“Have you had a chance to look at the auction items?” Violet asked, making conversation. “There are some amazing things.”
“I huv. What would ye huv if ye could choose something?” She gestured toward the auction table where people were milling about, checking their bids. The other woman’s smile was infectious. She was probably six inches shorter than Violet, with striking dark hair in an up-do. The woman was so familiar, and yet she couldn’t place her.
“Well, the helicopter ride and lunch on the mountain sounds decent.” Violet smirked, and the woman nodded and smiled back. “But to be honest, I actually marked down my name for that beautiful tartan blanket. It was probably the only thing on the table I could afford to bid on, to be honest.” She surprised herself confessing such a thing, but she sensed the woman before her was not going to judge her. “I genuinely love it. It would look so good on my navy wingback. Pretty sure it needs to come home with me.”
The lady in red grinned up at her. “Och, good choice! Aye, well, let's hope the luck is with ye then.”
"What about you? What would you choose?" Violet said, taking another sip of the amazing scotch the mystery lady had given her. She wondered where she'd gotten it from as she hadn't seen whisky on any of the trays the servers were going around with.
"Me? I would take the private ghost tour in the vaults.” There was a mischief in her blue eyes that made Violet want to be friends with her.
Just then, the lights dimmed. Violet turned back and saw Lachlan leading the beautiful woman he'd been talking to onto the dance floor. And it felt like watching a car accident where you know you should turn away for self-preservation, but you can’t help your morbid fascination. The butterflies that had turned to lead were now acid in her throat. She threw back the remainder of what was in her glass.
The woman beside her was gazing in the same direction. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Violet silently nodded, unable to tear her eyes from the couple.
“She’s a donor. In fact, her family is the biggest donor to the sanctuary. They are one of the wealthiest in Scotland.”
Violet turned to look at the woman beside her, wondering how she knew so much, and also uncertain if she wanted to hear anymore.
Then she leaned in conspiratorially. “Anna MacDonald. She has too much money, and she thinks she can buy whatever she wants, including my brother's affections back.”
She didn’t know which part of that statement surprised her more. Back? Did that mean that at some point, this very wealthy, gorgeous woman, Anna, held Lachlan's affections? Had they been a couple? Ugh, whatever the case, the information only confirmed what she'd suspected: there was something between Lachlan and the woman. And then the other part of the statement hit her. She was talking to Lachlan's sister!
“I’m Orlagh Mackenzie.” She held out her hand as if confirming Violet's thought.
Violet reached out and shook her petite hand, surprised by the strength of her grip. “You’re Lachlan’s sister?” It made total sense now why she looked familiar.
“Aye, I suppose I am.”
“I’m Violet Munro. I work at Highland Haven,” she said, by way of explanation as to how she knew Lachlan.
“I ken,” Orlagh replied as if it were common knowledge.
“You do?”
Orlagh gave her a sly smile. “Aye. Lachlan talks about ye.”
“He does?” The breath suddenly left her body.
“Aye." There was a twinkle in her eye, making Violet want to prod her for every detail that Lachlan had ever spoken about her. Instead, she looked back at the wealthy MacDonald woman and Lachlan dancing, and Violet chose self-preservation. Why should she care what he'd said or thought about her?
And just when she'd tried to take the high road, Orlagh informed her very matter-of-factly, “He is not the least bit interested in her. He never truly was. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s wishing to God that he didnae huv to dance with her and play nice.” Orlagh spoke as if she was an authority on the matter.
Violet glanced back to where Lachlan was nodding with a smile as they danced. “They look pretty comfy if you ask me,” Violet said, unable to keep the skepticism from her voice.
Orlagh shrugged. “Trust me, his skin is likely crawlin' huvin' to dance with her. Lachlan is being Lachlan, ever the gentleman. I huv no doubt she wrote a big fat donation check, kennin' full well that Lachlan would be obliged to be civil, especially here at the Gala. Her ulterior motives sing louder than her ta ta's popping out over-the-top of her dress.”
Violet snorted, and Orlagh grinned back at her as if they were on the same team. She dared to wonder if it was true, and Lachlan was just playing the part tonight with that Anna woman.
"Anyway, never mind about her. Let's talk about Highland Haven. Do ye like working there?”
"I honestly can't imagine working anywhere better.” Violet had never felt so fulfilled in a job. Although she realized that she might need to do something about her massive crush on her boss.
"Lachlan is always talking about his team at the sanctuary. He’s says that he’d be lost without ye all.”
“It is a pretty amazing group of people.” Violet reflected on how true that was.
“Aye, I've heard. But Lachlan talks about ye, Violet, as his right hand.”
“He does?” Violet felt goosebumps skitter down her spine.
Orlagh set her empty glass on a nearby table. “My brother holds you in very high regard.”
Violet couldn’t help the feeling of pride swelling up inside her. She knew she’d become important to Lachlan with the business, but knowing he'd talked to his sister about her being his right hand was so gratifying.
“I hold him in very high regard too,” she admitted.
“He said you also huv yer own business doing personal styling as well.”
Violet was surprised that Lachlan would tell Orlagh about her business. “I do, although I only have a couple of clients now. To be honest, the sanctuary has taken up more of my focus over the past month. I love it there. It’s unlike any job I’ve had before.” Violet didn’t miss the look of approval in Orlagh’s eyes, and oddly enough, she appreciated it. “What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m no’ sure yet what my heart desires, but fer now, I’m helping out at the distillery.”
The two ladies chatted for a time as the party seemed to be going on full swing around them. Orlagh was one of those people Violet felt an instant kinship with. She was easy to talk with. Violet noticed that Orlagh spoke about Lachlan as if she thought Violet and Lachlan were close. Saying things like, "Oh, ye ken how he is, always needing to seek out a quiet spot."
It surprised Violet that she did know. She'd noticed that Lachlan was a people person, and yet, more often than not, she'd find him where there were no people at all, like he'd intentionally sought to be alone. And yet, he never seemed to mind her intrusion.
“Well, I suppose we should both get back to the festivities. It was great meeting you, Violet. I hope we see each other again soon.” Orlagh gave Violet’s hand a squeeze and disappeared into the throngs of people.
Violet stood there reflecting on the entire encounter when Andy sauntered up to her, ruddy-cheeked and grinning like he was having the time of his life. “Shall we?” he said, offering her his arm in a grand gesture.
Violet accepted it and let Andy lead her through the crowd, not quite certain where they were going.
“I thought you and Fiona ditched me.”
“I’ve lost Fi to the mob, but I huv no doubt she’s keeping herself entertained," he said, with a knowing wink.
As they made their way to the stairs, Violet was scanning the crowd for Lachlan, although she was not certain if she wanted to see him or not, especially if he was still in the company of Anna MacDonald. "Dinnae fash, Fiona didnae want to go on the tour anyway.”
"Tour?" Violet asked.
Andy looked at her like she'd lost her marbles. "Aye, the whisky tour, remember?”
"Oh, yes, right." Violet had actually forgotten all about it while chatting with Orlagh and being distracted with Lachlan. Always distracted with Lachlan, since the moment their eyes had locked on that fateful evening on the beach.
"The whisky rooms down here are legendary," Andy quipped excitedly.
"Oh?" Violet asked curiously.
"Aye, they say that somewhere down here is a bottle from the original batch, and well, if ye believe the folklore, they say if anyone were find it and huv a wee sip, it's a bit like findin' the Holy Grail.”
Violet snorted.
"Dinnae laugh. There are many who believe it has healin' powers," Andy said quietly as if it were too holy to discuss out loud, and then he crossed himself. "There was even a documentary about it on the BBC.”
"There was not!" Violet laughed in spite of his serious tone.
"Och, aye, there was."
Violet wondered what Lachlan would have to say about it since it was his family’s distillery. Did he think there was a magical bottle down there? She looked down at the stone steps bathed in warm light from candle-style wall sconces.
They stood in a short line, waiting for a couple more people to arrive for the next round of the tour. The guide, who looked to be in his fifties with thick black rimmed glasses and a coarse goatee of copper and white informed them a group of twelve was the magic number, explaining that he'd only have to open one bottle of each of the sample whiskys, which would mean he wouldn't be obliged to take the leftovers home again "so they dinnae go to waste." His broad grin spread his goatee like a beard.
The man was clearly well practiced at giving tours and keeping the guests entertained.
Violet was grateful to have her mind on something other than Lachlan’s whereabouts. In fact, she was enjoying the tour. She was amazed at the extensive process for creating that perfect dram.
She fell behind the crowd in the cask room. She was mesmerized by it all. As fun as the group tour was, she was glad to drop behind and have a quiet moment to take it in. It was amazing to think that Lachlan’s family had been making whisky for hundreds of years, and they still make one of the original recipes. The man grew more fascinating by the day. Would her heart survive him?