Snowbound on Skye

Chapter 1

E ver since the recent death of her parents, Denny was in a daze. Unbelievable was the word that looped through her mind like a never-ending figure eight. Denny still had to shake her head and remind herself that her parents were gone forever. And the drunk or stoned driver who forced them off the road was still at large. Road rage? Nothing made sense.

Denny raked her fingers through her tangled shoulder-length hair. Sometimes life wasn’t fair. Well, what was she talking about? It never was.

Standing in her cozy bookstore before opening, she brought out a feather duster and got busy. Most of the used books were still in good shape. Many looked to be brand new and unread. Like her three copies of War and Peace , which Denny didn’t find that long once she got into it. She liked to think the customers loved the books as much as she did.

But she would soon have to give up the business—just like her father had warned her. Too much overhead and not enough customers. It wasn’t the first time Denny had what her father called a Pie in the Sky idea. As a child she’d set up a lemonade stand, washed neighbors’ cars, and started a gardening service: weeding and mowing using her parents’ mower until it ran out of gasoline. In the end her endeavors had all petered out. Denny didn’t think she was lazy, but every business venture had failed. Bad weather, homework, or if honest with herself, yearning to look cool and wanting to spend time with boys had been the causes of her failures. Or was she fooling herself?

She checked her watch. Time to open. Where was Agnes, her one employee?

Her phone rang, startling her out of her musings. It was her only sibling, Maureen, calling—a rarity for her older sister, the always busy and famous cooking show diva.

“Is your passport up to date?” Maureen asked first thing.

“Yeah, I think so. Why?” Denny loved her sister with all her heart, but they led different lifestyles. Maureen didn’t understand what it was like to be single and own a floundering business.

“I have a big surprise for you,” Maureen said. “We’re going to the Isle of Skye, off the west coast of Scotland, the land of our ancestors. And you’re coming with us.”

Denny didn’t like surprises or being told what to do. “I can’t afford to go anywhere.” That was the truth.

“Don’t you want to see the land of our ancestors—all expenses paid? My treat. Please say yes. James won’t go with me.”

“I can’t leave my bookstore.”

“Sure, you can. You have Agnes, don’t you?”

Denny wanted to travel to Scotland someday, but she’d hoped on her honeymoon. Fat chance of that happening.

The bookstore’s front door creaked open. Agnes straggled in, late as usual. Her mousy hair was matted on one side, and her clothes needed ironing, but Denny wouldn’t complain. These days it was hard to find employees in a small town in rural New Jersey. She smiled at Agnes as she tried to think of ways to squirm out of Maureen’s invitation.

If only their mother was still alive to consult with. But Mom would probably say, “Go, already. When was the last time you did something with your big sister?”

“Why the Isle of Skye?” Denny asked, her mind a battleground.

“I read an article about Skye in a travel magazine. It looks fabulous. A friend went there on a tour and had an awesome time.”

“I’ll think about it,” Denny said. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Uh, I couldn’t possibly be ready.” Denny didn’t appreciate the bulldozer pressure.

“Just throw clothes into a suitcase, and you’re good to go.”

Denny’s head spun with indecision as if she were a child balancing on a teeter-totter. “Yeah, okay, I guess.” By the morning she’d feign sickness because a trip with Maureen wouldn’t mend their fractured relationship.