Chapter Four
The sweet, buttery flakiness of the tart cherry turnover melted in Evie’s mouth.
If she’d been a cat, she would have purred loud enough for the entire village to hear how much she enjoyed this treat.
She licked the white icing’s stickiness from her fingertips before remembering her manners.
“Pardon my rudeness, but these are beyond wonderful. I don’t want to miss a bit of them. ”
Morganna smiled at her over the rim of her coffee cup. Her cinnamon roll remained untouched on her plate. “Petra is a true kitchen witch. Her creations are magical.”
“They sure are.” Evie glanced around the small pastry shop, noticing that the other customers sitting at the gleaming white tables in front of the long glass pastry case appeared to be observing her as closely as she was observing them.
Everyone Morganna had introduced her to so far today had already known not only her name but also where she was from, where she was staying, and how long she would be here.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked in a hushed voice. She swore the folks at the nearest table leaned closer, trying to overhear.
Morganna cleared her throat and shot a scolding look at their nosy neighbors. “Of course.”
They turned away, even scooting their chairs to put their backs toward them.
Evie tipped an inconspicuous nod at them. “How does everyone know who I am and all about me?”
Morganna laughed. “This is a tiny, remote village on the northeast coast of Scotland. A visitor such as yerself is new and exciting. Word travels fast—not only by gossip but also thanks to Callum’s village paper and website.
Ye won the sweepstakes, remember? Everyone here, all the shops, and most of the locals invested in that to attract more travelers to our lovely glen. ”
Evie knew small towns were always up in everybody’s business, but the part about the sweepstakes still didn’t ring true.
“You see, that’s the thing,” she said, “I never entered any sweepstakes.” That whole sweepstakes win was yet another bit of weirdness, along with the timing of her job loss, hearing her pet name through the fog, and discovering a gorgeous man that only she could see.
Everything about this trip had fallen into place a little too strangely.
Not that she wasn’t grateful, but what happened when all this odd serendipity stuff ran out?
“I’d never even heard of Craig Durness until I started getting all those emails about winning the sweepstakes. ”
Morganna waved away her doubts. “Bah! Ye probably entered and simply forgot. Those pop-up things on websites are easy to lose track of. All the sites have them, trying to get ye to sign up for this or that.” She sat taller and motioned at someone behind Evie.
“There’s Forestor. He’ll know where my Callum’s got off to this morning.
I would have asked my dear one to meet us here, but he was already out of bed and gone by the time I opened my eyes this morning. ”
“I spoke to Forestor on the phone.” Evie turned to see what the kindly Scot with the booming voice looked like—and he looked just like he sounded: big.
So tall that he walked slightly stooped forward as he shuffled across the black-and-white tiled floor, he apologized profusely while turning sideways and edging his massive frame between the other customers seated at their tables.
“Pardon me. ’Scuse me. Beggin’ yer pardon, now.
” When he reached them, he offered Evie a flamboyant bow and nearly knocked a nearby customer out of their seat.
“Sorry there, lad,” he told the young man after steadying the boy back into his chair.
He turned back to Evie. “Pleasure to meet ye, Miss Waterton. Ye’re just as lovely as I knew ye’d be, what with that sweet voice of yers. ”
“Thank you, Mr. Grimheart.” She’d never forget such a unique last name. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, too.”
“And how are ye finding our Craig Durness?”
“It’s even more gorgeous than the pictures on the website.” She glanced down at her empty plate, which she’d been tempted to lick clean. “And how could I not love it here with all this scrumptiousness?”
“Do ye know where Callum’s gone off to this morning?” Morganna asked the man in a tone that Evie didn’t quite understand. It sounded as though the woman were trying to ask Forestor a question that had nothing to do with Callum’s whereabouts.
He eyed Evie for a long moment, then fisted his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Gone to prepare the…uhm…hill with Farbis.”
Morganna frowned, deepening the creases around her tightly pursed lips.
She gave the barest shake of her head, but Evie caught it.
“Did he say when he’d return?” she asked Forestor, then nodded at Evie.
“Miss Waterton and I wanted to ask him about someone she saw last night. See if Callum happens to know the man.”
Forestor returned Morganna’s frown with one of his own.
It occurred to Evie that the man reminded her of a watercolor picture from her favorite fairytale book that Grandmama had always kept out on the coffee table.
The painting depicted a large, big-nosed, thick-lipped troll who loved nighttime gardening and taking care of cats.
The other trolls were mean to him because he refused to help them catch villagers to eat.
Since the gentle troll suffered so much at the hands of his own kind, the star angels came down and blessed him, enabling him to walk in the sunlight without turning to stone.
He also became impervious to steel, church bells, and Christian prayers, and lived happily ever after among the thankful villagers whom he protected from the evil mountain trolls.
Evie blinked, suddenly realizing that both Forestor and Morganna were looking at her as if waiting for an answer. “Sorry…I zoned out there for a minute. Jet lag must be getting to me again. Could you repeat that?”
Morganna reached over and patted her hand. “Dinna fash yerself, Evie. Jet lag can be a fearsome thing. Forestor asked if ye knew how to ride a horse. If ye do, ’tis a braw enough day for us to ride to the hill and visit Callum while he finishes his project.”
“It’s been a while, but I used to ride all the time as a kid. I grew up on my grandparents’ farm. It was what many would consider a childhood paradise. I was very lucky to have them.”
“It’s settled, then,” Forester said, reminding Evie more and more of that gentle troll from the storybook.
She just couldn’t shake that feeling, no matter how hard she tried to shove it out of her mind. What in the world was wrong with her? She blinked hard several times, struggling to focus on the kindly Scot standing in front of her. He’d probably be insulted to know he reminded her of a troll.
With a toothy smile, he motioned at the door. “Follow me to the stable, and I’ll be happy to get ye on yer way.”
As she rose from her seat, the pastry shop spun at an odd angle, knocking her off balance.
“What in the world?” She grabbed hold of the table and worked her jaws, trying to pop her ears.
Maybe that would help. Her ears didn’t hurt, but there was a strange pressure in the air, like an altitude shift or something.
“Wow. Sorry. I don’t know where that came from. ”
Morganna wrapped an arm around her. “Are ye unwell? We’ve a fine physician here in the village. Or the chemist can help with minor ailments. Shall we stop and speak to one of them before we go to the stable? I dinna want ye falling off yer horse and snapping yer wee neck.”
“I’ll be fine, I’m sure.” After a couple of deep breaths, Evie slowly let go of the table.
The strange pressure in the air had, thankfully, disappeared, and her balance returned.
“If it hits me again, maybe I’ll see if that chemist has any over-the-counter meds for vertigo.
That’s kind of what it felt like.” Her pills for airsickness would work well enough, but maybe the chemist would know of something more effective that wouldn’t make her so drowsy.
“The chemist is the pharmacist over here in Scotland, right?”
“Aye.” Morganna slowly stepped back but kept her hands ready to catch Evie if necessary. “Good enough now? All better?”
“All better.” Evie waved at Petra, who stood behind the counter watching her with obvious concern. “I’m fine. Just a little residual funkiness from all the air travel, I’m sure. And those cherry turnovers were the best!”
The pixie-like woman with the bright pink hair relaxed and beamed at her. “I’m glad ye enjoyed them, Miss Waterton. Have yerself the finest day Craig Durness can offer ye.”
“Thank you.” Evie looked forward to getting back on a horse.
It had been forever since she’d ridden, but she’d always loved animals—which reminded her…
She turned to Morganna. “By the way, do you know of anyone missing a black cat? One showed up at the cottage last night, and by showed up, I mean it came in through the kitchen window and was still sleeping in a basket on the counter when you picked me up.”
Forestor made a choking sound, causing Morganna to thump him on the back. “Must ha’ sucked in a midge,” he wheezed as they trundled out of the shop and started down the cobblestone roadway that ran through the center of the village. “’Scuse me for interrupting ye.”
“The wee moggy’s name is Gavel,” Morganna said, with one last whack of her fist against the mighty Scot’s broad back. “Everyone feeds him. Some say he brings them luck.”
“Gavel,” Evie repeated. “I’ll have to remember that if he’s still there when I get back. I left the kitchen window open so he could leave whenever he wanted to. This morning I called him Mr. Cinder, and he seemed less than impressed.”
“Verra little impresses Gavel other than a fresh soul,” Forestor said in a grumbling tone.
Morganna hit his back again, even though he was no longer coughing. She seemed almost angry or alarmed.