Chapter 5
D enny had to chuckle . Amanda’s pranks reminded her of her own shenanigans when she was a girl. She had done everything to get her parents’ attention. Wasted energy because they always focused on Maureen’s achievements. Maureen’s over-the-top wedding. Maureen’s baby girl, their one and only grandchild. Maureen’s wildly successful TV show. Nothing Denny did could compete.
They were gone now forever, but she couldn’t stop thinking about them, like a never-ending loop. She wished she could shut off her brain. A song her mother used to play haunted her now. “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” Denny couldn’t remember the rest of the words, just the beginning over and over and over again.
As she stepped toward the exit, she noticed a fellow standing below on shore. Nothing like a regular American man as he was wearing a tartan cap and carrying a sign with the name Mrs. Cook written on it.
“There’s our driver,” Maureen said, all abuzz and waving her hand like a weirdo. “Hello there. I’m Mrs. Cook.” He boarded the ferry, and she strode over and shook his hand.
“Welcome to the Isle of Skye.” The man spoke with a distinct Scottish accent. Denny had to wonder if it was fabricated for tourists. In any case, he was hot. About her age, meaning thirty-two. And trim. Not all that tall, but she could tell he was muscled under his tweed jacket. Denny figured he was probably married or had a girlfriend. She tried to spot a wedding band, but he was wearing leather gloves—what she should be doing. She was glad she’d brought a pair, but they were in the bottom of her suitcase.
His dreamy hazel-brown eyes caught hers for a moment, and then he gazed at Lydia longer than seemed necessary. Lydia blushed and looked away.
Next, he turned to Amanda. “And who is this lovely young lass?” He put out his hand to shake Amanda’s in a chivalrous manner.
“My daughter, Amanda,” Maureen said. “Under all that makeup is a fourteen-year-old girl.”
Amanda gave her mother the evil eye. Not that Denny blamed her. When would Maureen figure it out? But of course, Denny said nothing. She was determined not to tangle with her sister the whole trip. Probably an impossible feat.
“May I introduce myself?” The man tipped his cap. “I’m Alec MacLeod. I’m glad you chose to ride the ferry today as there was a hideous accident on the bridge, making it impossible to cross.”
“What was it?” Fear clutched Denny as she imagined the worst-case scenario.
“A passenger bus skidded on the black ice.”
Maureen’s hand rose to her mouth, but she said nothing. Denny figured Maureen was worried about possible fatalities—and also remembering their parents’ death, just as Denny was.
Denny finally spoke since all the other women seemed in a daze. “Good to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m Denny Campbell.”
“A Campbell on Skye? Best keep that fact tucked under your cap as they say.”
“And why is that?” She was in the mood to flirt. She wished she’d taken a glance at herself in the mirror in the ladies’ room earlier. But too late now. She was sure she looked disheveled at best. And her frigid ears must be beet-red. “Well?”
“Nothing, I shouldn’t have said anything.” He repositioned his cap revealing wavy brick-red hair. “A long-standing feud that should end as of today.”
“Or what? You’ll drive us over a cliff?” Not that she would mind it all that much. After going to her gynecologist repeatedly and having every test in the book, Denny wondered if death awaited her like a ticking time bomb. Cancer was most likely lurking in her, but her doctors couldn’t locate it. Most likely in an ovary was Denny’s guess. Like a wet dog, she tried to shake the grisly feeling off and made the decision not to dwell on her health again all week.
“Absolutely not.” His cheeks grew flushed. “I promise to take the very best care of four such beauties as you.”
Amanda giggled as if he had spoken directly to her. She was morphing into a young woman way too fast in Denny’s opinion.
Denny rubbed her hands together. “Is it always this cold?” Even though she was shivering, she was grateful for the distraction. She needed to stop grieving for her parents, although that might never come to an end. A gloomy thought. And to stop worrying about her health.
She reminded herself that she must call her bookshop and speak to Agnes. But it wouldn’t be open yet. She liked to think it could run without her. Yet Denny wondered if Agnes would open on time. And remember to make the deposit and to complete one hundred different tasks such as check for stray books that customers had stuck in the wrong section.
Let’s see, how many hours behind was New Jersey anyway? Her mind walked itself backward eight hours. No wonder she was so tired. She hadn’t slept a wink on the jet. A multitude of fears had clutched her. The jet’s crashing, pulling apart, and sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Death might be a relief. It had beckoned her for years. Putting up a brave front while in pain was exhausting. She hadn’t told anyone about her many gynecologist and gastroenterologist appointments. “Go on the trip and enjoy yourself,” her ob-gyn had said. “We’ll tackle the health situation when you get home.” Easy for her to say.
Denny couldn’t confide in her mother when Mom was alive. She hadn’t for years. And Maureen would multiply Denny’s fears by pummeling her with questions. She always did. Like a prosecutor at a trial. Her inquiries multiplied and enlarged the situation. Even if she were asking why Denny ate organic veggies and fruit when they were so expensive. Poor Amanda.
“Ladies, may I take you to my car?” Alec’s voice with its lovely Scottish brogue and rolled r ’s brought her back to reality. She needed to wake up and dive into this time zone. He led them to his forest-green sedan and opened a back door. “I’m afraid someone will have to sit up front with me.”
“I will, I will.” Amanda said and jumped into the front seat much to Denny’s consternation. She was hoping to claim that spot herself.
“Hey, you’re sitting on the wrong side,” Denny told her niece.
“She is not,” Maureen scolded.
“Oh, yeah.” Denny felt like an idiot. “Sorry, Amanda.”
“No worries,” Amanda said. “You’re still my favorite aunt.”
“Your only aunt,” Maureen said.
Alec directed his words at Denny. “You’ll get used to how we do things in no time at all,” he said.
Denny wondered if she could drive on the wrong side of the road. Not that it was wrong here in Scotland. The British Isles that is.
“It’s a short drive.” He glanced into the back seat for a moment, and his gaze caught Denny’s. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you anywhere on the island you like.” He provided each of them a map and a pamphlet with information about the Isle of Skye. “I am at your command all week.” He scanned the horizon. “Unless it snows. Sometimes it does.”
“Snow in February?” Maureen’s voice reminded Denny of a parrot’s squawk. “What are you talking about?”
His eyebrows lifted. “It rarely snows on Skye at all, but every decade or so we get some this time of year. It’s predicted in the weather forecast.”
“Goody, goody, we can go skiing like I wanted to back home.” Amanda clapped her hands.
“I can’t imagine we’ll get enough snow to ski.” Alec ignited the engine. “But it does sound fun.” He released the parking brake. “Also, a wee bit of a headache for cars without studded tires—like mine.”
In ways, Denny wished they had their own car, but she’d agreed with Maureen that driving on the wrong side of the road would be possible only if the driver kept their concentration on driving all the time and didn’t admire the view for even an instant. Having a hired driver who knew the area would be better. Anyway, why tangle with Maureen when she would come out victorious eventually. She always had for Denny’s whole life. Denny had continually wanted to be like her big sister, pathetic as it may sound. But as Denny admired Alec’s even features, she decided being single had its advantages. If Alec was single and available, that is.
Never would she admit that her former boyfriend, Kevin, had dumped her like stale bread the day after her parents’ memorial service. He hadn’t even supported her as a friend when she’d needed him most. Maybe all men were cads, and she’d expected too much.
“This hotel is a perfect location.” Alec drove them to an exquisite four-story building that made all at home look drab. “You’ll be a twenty-minute walk from Portree, Skye’s biggest town. See the lights way down there?” He got out and opened Denny’s door first, then jogged around to the other side to open Maureen’s. Her older sister looked displeased. Denny should warn her that scowling would give her permanent wrinkles but decided to let her be grumpy. If anything, seeing her older sister’s glower brought Denny pleasure. The first time since their parents’ demise that she was thinking about others, even if in a nasty sense. Maureen drove her bonkers sometimes.
Alec opened his sedan’s doors. Denny’s first—which brought her pleasure. She enjoyed the attention even if he was only doing his job. Then he circled the car and assisted Maureen, followed by Lydia. Amanda hopped out on her own.
Denny stared up at the hotel’s imposing facade. Not what she had expected of Scotland, which she assumed would be lackluster and downright plain. She glanced over to Lydia, who was also standing with her jaw dropped open in awe of the structure. The setting sun cast a peach-colored glow across the hotel’s surface.
“Nice enough, Denny?” Maureen leaned against Denny.
“It looks w-wonderful.” Denny contained any bitter words that might slip out. She knew she had a sharp tongue and didn’t want Alec to think she was a grump. The sky was growing dark as a mattress of clouds rolled in. But no matter. They’d be inside soon and hopefully warm up. Denny zipped her jacket to her neck as a gust of wind brought with it icy air.
Alec pulled open the hotel’s massive front door. “Care to enter, madam?” He spoke to Maureen. “I’ll fetch the luggage in a moment.”
Clutching her purse with FENDI proudly embossed on its leather surface, Maureen strode into the foyer like a queen entering her castle. Denny knew her older sister was a TV star, so she guessed Maureen was used to being in the spotlight. And Denny told herself she wasn’t jealous of her anymore.
But when it came to looks, why had Denny gleaned their father’s dark, stout DNA while Maureen had inherited their mother’s long legs and blonde hair?