Chapter 19
N o doubt about it, Denny noticed Alec glancing at Lydia even when speaking to Denny. How rude. Yet what man wouldn’t be attracted to Lydia’s wholesome good looks and athletic abilities? She had made slipping on her rear end appear graceful. And she seemed to always be in a cheerful mood.
Denny decided to be more amiable the rest of the trip and not let anything prod her into a funk. Spending so much time with her marvelous, can-do-anything older sister was probably the root of Denny’s snarly mood.
In truth, they were in the same rowboat when it came to losing their parents.
As Denny struggled out of her jacket, she remembered how she’d watched an old detective show—a British murder mystery—the night before she’d left for this trip. She was traveling to Scotland but couldn’t find a Scottish show. But Scotland was part of the British Isles, she’d told herself.
Later when getting ready for bed, Denny had contemplated the fact that her parents could have been targeted, just like the man in the TV show. Their father was a big-shot Wall Street trader, but his death had not even been mentioned by the New York Times . Not that she wanted her parents’ personal lives to be dragged through the mud. But how is it that they died penniless? Worse than penniless. In debt. What was that all about?
Denny knew she should be grateful her sister was such a success, but Maureen’s achievements seemed to detract from Denny’s, making her shrink.
How would Denny cope without her parents’ support? She’d hoped to borrow money from them to buy more inventory for her bookstore. Unless Maureen and James saved the day. The thought of begging for their help made Denny wince. Maybe death would be the easiest escape.
But dread filled her at the thought. If she had cancer, she would fight it with all her might.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. A rat? Panic seized her. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out a pitiful scream.
“What’s wrong?” Alec moved closer.
“I saw something.” Denny imagined a rodent running up her leg, and she shivered at the thought. “A mouse or a rat.” They scared Denny down to her bones.
Lydia chortled. “A tiny little mouse won’t hurt you.”
Denny was embarrassed by her reaction, but how dare Lydia laugh at her? Denny aimed her flashlight under the furniture but saw nothing.
“Princess usually dispatches with any vermin swifter than any cat.” Mrs. Ross spoke in Denny’s ear. “Sorry you were frightened.”
“I wasn’t afraid but rather surprised.” Denny would never admit her many phobias. She could bluff her way through anything. So far.