Wolfish in Sheep’s Clothing #2
The business centre was a closet with a narrow desk under the staircase. When she checked her email, there were several birthday greetings, including a dozen from Emma. All but one of them read “Happy birthday!”
The last message was odd, even for Emma, who’d written “Carpe diem. Dare to be someone different today … let your wicked side out. I saw it in a dream. Also, I have arranged a special birthday treat for you! A visit to my mother’s cousin’s cousin’s historic castle.
Will send details tomorrow. Cancel all other plans. Am I forgiven?”
Kathy smiled and wrote, “Weather is dreadful and so are you. Wish you were here. I’ll reserve the date.” After thinking for a second, she added, “Forgiven for what? Love, K” and sent it off.
Kathy asked the manager to call a cab, and the woman said, “You cannae go out in that coat.” She went to the office closet and brought back an old-fashioned moss-green mohair coat. “It’s warm and the colour suits. It’s been left here for years, so keep it.”
Kathy took the unexpected birthday present and said, “Thank you! You’re too kind.” A few minutes later, she was in the back seat of a small warm car, dashing up the hill towards Edinburgh Castle. The wet surfaces reflected shop lights and street lights, making the city look magical.
The restaurant was set beside theatres and bustling with Friday evening excitement. Kathy inhaled marvellous aromas as she took off her coat and left it in the cloakroom. As Kathy was escorted to her seat, men turned to watch, while women gave her more subtle once-overs.
The maitre d’ showed her to a table in a corner.
It was too dark to study her guidebook here, but at least she could observe others.
A waiter soon glided over with a menu. The prices were awfully high, though, and she was mentally converting pounds to dollars when the maitre d’ returned with a concerned smile.
“Yes?” Kathy said, looking up.
“I apologise for disturbing you, but we inadvertently doubled-booked a table and I thought you might not mind, considering the circumstances …” He spoke with the precise accent of a BBC Scotland announcer.
“Mind what?” She hoped that he wasn’t going to ask her to move outside to the covered terrace, where latecomers huddled by patio heaters, because she wasn’t going to move, not on her birthday.
“I thought you might not mind sharing your table with another guest.”
Kathy wondered how she would have felt if her table had been given away. “Of course not,” she said, hoping that the other guest wasn’t talkative or rude.
“Thank you! You’ve saved me. Allow me to offer you a complimentary drink?”
“I think a glass of champagne would be nice.”
“Only a glass?” said a deep voice with a warm soft brogue. “Why nae a bottle?”
Kathy turned her head and saw a gorgeous man – the careless man who had ruined her coat. He looked at the maitre d’ and said, “The ’99 Ayala,” and the maitre d’ replied, “Excellent choice, sir,” and left.
The man seemed bigger up close – about six foot three – and those dark eyes were blue as they caught her own glance and then travelled down the neckline of her dress to the curves of her breasts. One corner of his wide, well-shaped mouth lifted in appreciation.
Kathy felt her cheeks grow hot in anger and self-consciousness and watched him seat himself across the small table.
His hair was deep chestnut, a little long and brushed back from a widow’s peak, and his shoulders were wide in an inky black-blue suit.
He wore a pale blue shirt that was open at the collar.
A waiter came over quickly, handed the man a menu, and left. The man smiled at Kathy and said, “Thenk ye for sharing yer table.” His voice was as beguiling as a fresh breeze.
“It’s no problem.” Kathy picked up her menu and tried to focus on the descriptions.
“A’m Calder, an ye …?”
She looked up and right into the dazzling eyes of the man who had ruined her beautiful coat. Then she remembered Emma’s advice: dare to be someone different today, be wicked. “I’m Kat.”
“A pleasure to meet ye, Kat,” he said, and the name sounded right to her, the sort of name a sophisticated world-traveller would have.
“Please allow me to buy dinner in exchange for depriving you of yer tranquillity.” He rolled his r’s luxuriously, as if he had all the time in the world to talk to her.
Kathy was going to decline, and then thought – be wicked! “I do enjoy my solitude, so I’ll accept your offer.”
“You’re an American?” he asked, clearly pronouncing “you’re”.
“Yes, but I’ll try not to hold it over you.” She glanced at his hand and saw that he wasn’t wearing a wedding band – but some men didn’t.
He grinned. “You have that American look of self-sufficiency. I’ll try to speak so you can understand me.”
The waiter came by with their champagne and an ice bucket on a stand. Kathy kept her eyes on the menu as the waiter went about opening the bottle and Calder tasted it. She was now looking at the most expensive items on the menu so that she could at least eat part of her loss back.
“Would you like to order now?” the waiter asked.
Kathy – no, Kat, said, “Yes, I’ll start with the smoked salmon. Then I’ll have the halibut with mussel sauce. For dessert, I’d like the chocolate mousse with sorbet.”
Calder snapped the menu shut and said to the waiter, “I’ll have the same.”
“Sir?” asked the waiter, puzzled.
“Also a bottle of still water,” Calder said. “We’ll finish with the Highland Park. Thanks.”
When the waiter left, she let herself gaze boldly at her host, but she couldn’t help smiling.
He lifted his glass and said, “Guid health.” She lifted hers, too, and said, “Cheers.”
“It’s unusual to see a woman confident enough to dine alone.”
“Is it?” She had been about to tell him about her coat, but she didn’t want to ruin his image of her now with a vague recollection of someone trudging in the rain with an umbrella under her chin. She took a sip of her champagne and looked at him over the top of the flute.
“Certainly. Women always seem to travel in herds, or with some girlfriend. If they go to a café, they hide in a book,” he said. “I’m glad you’re not hiding your lovely face.”
It had been a very long time since a man had flirted with her, and no man this handsome had flirted with her since before …
before she made the mistake of wasting five years of her life with mundane Will Sloat, who decided that he needed “space” and actually told her, “It’s not you. It’s me,” before moving out.
Kat just nodded her head slightly, accepting Calder’s compliment.
“Are you on holiday or do you live here?” he asked.
“I’m travelling. I started in Paris, went to London, and now I’m here in Scotland.”
“Travelling by yourself, Kat?”
“Yes, unless you’re going to tell me that most women vacation in pairs, or on guided tours.”
Their first course arrived and the waiter refilled their champagne, even though Kat didn’t remember finishing her glass.
“I must seem terribly old-fashioned to you,” Calder said. “Actually I admire independence in a woman.”
“I’m ecstatic to have earned your approval,” she said, and he laughed. “What about you? Do you usually intrude on strangers’ tables and order whatever it is they order?”
“Never before, Kat, but the experience is proving so delightful that I believe I’ll make a habit of it.”
Now she was the one who laughed. As they began sampling the delicious and duplicated dishes, she said, “Do you live here, or are you visiting?”
“I’m here on business for a few days.”
She noticed that he didn’t say where he lived, and she could guess what kind of business he’d have with a beautiful woman in an expensive hotel.
Kat took a bite of the silky smooth smoked salmon. “What’s your business?”
“I’d rather not blether about it now, because it’s nothing but trouble. How about you? Do you have a business, or does your husband want to keep you at home for himself?”
Kathy’s knitting business was in a corner of a shared artspace and she was constantly anxious that the rent would be increased.
She loved her store, but it was far from her dream business, so she replaced the reality with the dream.
“I live in the Northern California countryside and raise sheep and goats. It’s very beautiful and I have week-long retreats there for women …
and the occasional man … to learn knitting techniques and needlecrafts.
My next step is a course in hand-dying wool and I’m ordering looms.”
Calder’s eyes twinkled. “Are you now? And I thought I was old-fashioned.”
“The old is new again, Calder. Teens are excited to carry on traditions.”
“Do you do this all on your own?”
She did everything on her own, including repairing the plumbing and installing the light fixtures.
“Heavens, no, I have staff. Things are going so well that I’m going to expand my retreats.
I’ll have chefs to teach cooking sessions, authors to lead writing workshops, and vintners and cheesemakers to have lectures and tastings. ”
His eyebrows knitted together and, maybe it was the champagne, but Kat thought she’d never seen such a charming expression. He said, “What an interesting occupation. Do you have classes year-round?”
“Oh, yes! In summer, we sit under the trees and work for hours before all cooking a meal together. We make jams and jellies from the fruits grown on the property. In the winter, we gather in the great room, with a fire in the hearth keeping us warm, and bake bread and make stews. We drink local wines, play the piano, and sing.” Kat could describe it because she’d envisioned the scenes hundreds of times. “People come back year after year.”
“Are there other retreats like this in the States?”
“There are weekend retreats and even cruises, but I think my place is special,” she said. “But I don’t want to bore you.”
“You aren’t boring me in the least, Kat. I think your country estate must be quite civilized, because I can’t imagine you chasing goats out of the lounge.”