Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
LEWIS
Now
“Hello?” Emily says. “Are you listening to me?”
We’re in the hotel office, working on a mood board for the next room refurb. We’ve been doing them up one by one, giving each a unique makeover and injecting a bit more personality into them.
“Er... aye, sorry.” I rub a hand over my face. “You were talking about... colour schemes?”
“No!” Her brow furrows and she exhales deeply. “We already signed off on the colour scheme. Or did you just say ‘yes’ earlier without actually paying attention to what I was saying?”
I try not to look too guilty. Normally, I’m fully absorbed by the project of doing up the Bannock Hotel. For the longest time, it was in need of a bit of TLC, and I’ve been fiercely proud of all Emily and I have achieved over the last year. Today, though... I’m distracted.
“I asked Grace to watch Ru so we could have this meeting without any baby distractions. I need you present and alert, Lewis!”
“Shit, I really am sorry. It’s just...” I can’t think of a good excuse, but I can hardly admit that Iona’s return to Bannock has stirred up old feelings and I’ve been struggling to concentrate on much at all these last few days.
I’m saved from having to tell a white lie by Elspeth, who sticks her head around the door. “Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could borrow my sous chef for some help in the kitchen?”
I quite literally jump at the chance. For me, food prep is almost as therapeutic as the gym. “Emily, I like it all—you’ve got an amazing eye for this stuff. Let’s go with your vision.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Er... okay. Well, that was an easy meeting.”
I head off with Elspeth.
“I need to thank you for the lovely slice of Victoria sponge I had last night,” she comments as we walk. “Honestly, I don’t know how you maintain the physique you do when you can bake sweet treats like that. I still remember the skinny little boy you used to be, and just look at you now—strong as a Highland bull! You’ll make light work of chopping all the veg we need.”
There’s a fair bit: carrots, potatoes, onions, and garlic, for both a beef stew and a vegetable stew, as well as courgettes, tomatoes, and green beans, for the latter only. Including me and Elspeth, there’ll be eleven adults tonight at the welcome dinner for Iona and Richard, plus two babies.
Elspeth cuts the meat into chunks and then browns it, its rich smell filling the kitchen. “Beef stew was your father’s favourite meal, you know.”
I smile. She says that every time we make this dish, but I don’t mind. I’m always happy to hear a story about Da or Maw.
“Come to think of it, Ewan and I were eating beef stew with your parents when we hit upon what to call you and Iona.”
“Oh?” This is a detail I’ve never heard before.
“Aye, I mentioned I wasn’t sure what to call the wee lassie I was carrying, and your mother said she’d always liked the name Iona. I agreed it was a lovely name—and the island of Iona is such a special place—but I didn’t want to steal it in case Mairi ever had a daughter. She insisted that if I liked it, then I should use it.”
“Oh, wow, so if you hadn’t gone with that name, then Cat would have been called Iona?” My wee sister—Cat, short for Catriona—is currently up in Wick, doing her probationary year as an English teacher.
Elspeth nods. “Funnily enough, your mother, who was pregnant with you, hadn’t yet settled on a boy’s name. I suggested she could go with a Scottish island name too and threw out a few possibilities: Arran, Harris... Lewis. And so you became Lewis.”
I blink, give her a sideways look, then grin. “Really? I can’t believe I’m twenty-seven and I’m only just now finding out that you came up with my name. Well, thanks. I’ve always liked it.”
I go back to chopping, buoyed by this exchange. That’s the amazing thing about working with Elspeth: she can still surprise me with new stories. We lost Maw and Da six years ago, and I miss them every day, but whenever Elspeth tells me something like that, it makes me feel closer to them.
“Anyway, talking of you and Iona, whatever happened between the pair of you?”
I’m not prepared for this question. “What do you mean?” I say unconvincingly.
“Oh, come on, you used to be joined at the hip. Your friendship didn’t end without explanation, and it was more than just the distance. When Iona first moved to Glasgow, you went down to visit her, a lot. But then that all stopped. It wasn’t long after—”
“We just drifted apart,” I insist. My grip on the knife tightens, my shoulders tensing. “It didn’t happen straight away, but she made new friends and had new experiences in the city...”
Of course, that wasn’t it at all.
As is typical for a McIntyre and Stewart family get-together, the restaurant is far noisier than it is when filled with actual customers. The air buzzes with banter and laughter, punctuated by the occasional squeal from Ru or babble from Callie.
I’m on the far side of the table from Iona and Richard. That’s the annoying thing about working in the kitchen—you always get the last choice of seat. I keep on glancing Iona’s way, though. She’s sporting her usual large-framed glasses and a deer-print dress. Her cheeks flushed from wine, she’s laughing at something that David, Grace’s brother, has just said. He’s here with his partner, Johnny—our gatherings have grown since Ally and Emily became an item and Aidan and Grace got together. But that adds to the fun: the more, the merrier.
Ally, opposite me, leans forward. “I hear you’re planning to extend the time breakfast is served at the weekend. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The restaurant opens for lunch on Saturdays and Sundays. It’s important you leave enough turnaround time between meals.”
I suppress a groan. Further down the table, Jamie is telling Aidan a joke—a rude one, no doubt. I’d much rather be listening to that.
Until last year, Ally was the manager—or more like, the micromanager—of the Bannock Hotel, but he left that role to set up an outdoor-activities business with Aidan. We’ve all been happier since—Ally’s heart was never in hospitality—but he still lives here with Emily and Ru, and because of that, he just can’t resist getting his neb in at times. I do love him, but... sometimes I can’t help but wish he’d get his own place and move out.
Emily, who has Ru on her lap, pats her husband’s back. “Believe it or not, Lewis and I have discussed it in detail—with Elspeth too—and we all agree it’ll work. Plus, it’s in response to guest feedback. Some people would like a little longer in bed at the weekend, which I can understand.”
“Hmm,” Ally says. “All right, maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. Emily could say anything and Ally would go along with it. My once-stubborn brother is utterly besotted with his wife.
I glance back down the table at Iona. Her blonde hair is half up, half down and frames her face in soft waves. She takes a bite of her dinner then closes her eyes and lets out a satisfied sigh. I’m pleased to see her savouring a dish I helped to prepare. But then she lifts another piece to her mouth, and as her lips close around her fork, an unexpected image flashes into my mind—of those lips wrapped around something else altogether.
Shifting in my seat, I realise Richard is watching me, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. Jesus, what’s his problem? Okay, sure, I just had a dirty thought about his girlfriend, but it’s not as if he can see what’s going on in my head.
I turn away to have a few mouthfuls of food then return my gaze to the far end of the table. I’d like to know what they’re talking about down there, but it’s hard to catch anything over the noise. Emily, Grace, and Elspeth are now deep in chatter, while Ally, Aidan, and Jamie are cracking up at something. When Ru fusses, I see my chance.
“You finish your food. I’ll calm him down.” Standing, I scoop my nephew out of Emily’s lap and, bouncing him gently, move towards the other side of the room. His cries soften to quiet murmurs, and he nestles his head against my chest.
“With all the work you do with animals,” Johnny is saying to Iona, “I bet you’ll be wanting your own furry friend soon. Maybe once you and Richard have moved into your own place?”
“Well . . .” Iona begins.
Richard holds his hands up. “The problem is me—I’ve got terrible allergies. Iona would love a dog or cat to snuggle up with, but a fish or hamster is more realistic. Otherwise, I’d be a runny-eyed, snotty-nosed mess.”
I snort. Can’t help it. Iona has loved animals for as long as I can remember, starting with Molly, the cocker spaniel I had as a lad. As a girl, Iona always dreamed of having her own dog, but her da never allowed it. Isn’t it sad that now, as a grown woman, she can’t have one because of her boyfriend?
“Richard, of course, can’t help his allergies,” Iona says, firing a look my way, and I realise my snort was unkind. “Besides, you can still snuggle up with a hamster... kind of.”
Jamie, who has apparently noticed me sidling towards the far side of the room, leans over and says, “Richard, did you know that Lewis has always had a thing for Iona?”
I stiffen, a hot flush creeping up my neck. As several pairs of eyes turn my way, I focus on Ru and lightly pat his back. “We were friends growing up,” I state plainly.
“Really? Only ever friends?” Jamie teases.
“Yes!” My voice comes out a little sharper than I intended.
I catch Richard rolling his eyes, which makes me wonder... does he know? Iona, of course, has every right to tell him what happened between us—he is her boyfriend—but we’ve never told our families or anyone else around Bannock. Were Richard to shoot his mouth off, and people found out what I did, I’d... well, I don’t know how I’d cope. I mean, how could I ever work with Elspeth in the kitchen again? How could I meet her eye if she knew how I’d treated her daughter?
I realise I’m being utterly pathetic, worrying about myself like this. The truth is, I deserve to be shamed and humiliated—just as I shamed and humiliated Iona.
“Don’t listen to Jamie,” Ally says to Richard. “He’s always winding people up. It’s what he does.”
Jamie smirks. “I’m just saying what we all think. Lewis, can you put a hand on your heart and swear that you and Iona never, you know...” He makes a squeaky bed noise.
If I wasn’t holding Ru, I’d make Jamie pay for that.
Richard’s jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a thin line, but—amazingly—he holds his tongue. He doesn’t turn on me or Jamie.
Wow. He’s a better man than I am.