Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
London laughed for real now. “The pool here is kind of shallow. Plus, I’m not ready yet.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I think I’ve sworn off men for good. Hey, you could marry me for a visa,” I joked.
She snort-laughed. “We’ll see about the whole swearing off men thing first, Taran Macbeth. We’ll see.”
“I’ll make us more tea.” I stood up to change the subject and strolled out of the room. I spotted the mail on the side table in the hall. “Hey, when did this arrive?”
“What?”
“The mail.”
“Oh, the mailwoman saw me on the street and just handed it to me. It’s all for you.”
My attention snagged on the small envelope with the National Health Service stamp on it. I paused to open it quickly, and as my eyes washed over the letter, I felt shivery with fear.
“Everything okay?”
It was a referral letter to the genetic specialist, inviting me to undergo testing to see if I’d inherited the altered genes that made me high risk for breast cancer.
I shoved the letter into the back of the sideboard drawer. “Just junk mail,” I lied and hurried into the kitchen.
20. Taran
“Tierney needs a manager, pronto,” Cammie grumbled as we strolled through the crowd of tourists and locals who had gathered for today’s games.
While London and I were able to join our friend, Tierney couldn’t leave the B and B unmanned, so it was just the three of us this morning.
“I’ve told her the same,” London agreed. “But she wants to make sure she’s in the black before she takes on a big expense like that. She’s already paying me as the chef, and she’s paying a part-time housekeeper.”
“I know. I just wish she were here.” Cammie’s face lit up. “There’s Mum and Greg. Come on!”
“Uh …” Instant nerves hit me at the thought of seeing Quinn and Cammie’s mum again. Once I got older and was like a second daughter to her, she’d insisted I call her Janice.
I’d seen Janice in passing because it was difficult not to in a tiny place like Leth Sholas, but I got the distinct impression she was avoiding me. Janice and Greg owned a small farm and farm shop twenty minutes south of Leth Sholas, so they weren’t in town as often. The last time we’d spoken was a few months after mum’s funeral. I’d still been in a fog of grief, and Janice brought back bittersweet memories. I hadn’t been particularly warm or friendly toward her, which was probably why she’d avoided me since.
“You’re coming.” Cammie looped her arm through mine and practically dragged me to her parents.
Along with the usual competitions—caber tossing, hammer throwing, shot put, tug-of-war, racing, haggis hurling, sword dancing, Highland dancing, pipe band, and bagpiping—produce makers from all over the islands set up stalls at the Highland Games’ market. Janice and Greg had set up their own.
“That looks fun.” London gestured toward the Highland dancers mid-competition. “Did you guys ever try it?”
“Aye, I was shite. Taran was a natural but hated being the center of attention, so she quit,” Cammie explained.
I shrugged because it was true. The dancing part was fun. The everyone staring at me while I did it part was awful.
As we neared the market stall, Janice spotted Cammie, her eyes lighting up. She gave her a quick nod of acknowledgment as she helped a customer. Greg saw us, waved, and immediately took over so Janice could round the stall to greet her daughter properly.
“I didn’t know you were coming along today.” Janice enveloped Cammie in a tight hug. Cammie and Quinn had inherited their height from their mum’s side of the family. I’d always thought Janice was so tall and elegant. She’d had masses of blond hair like Cammie when she was younger but now her thick hair was cut into a silvery-blond bob that framed her angled jawline. Dressed in a silky wide trouser and matching shirt set, she looked anything but an island farmer. Unlike her husband who wore a ratty worn sweater and jeans. Greg was about an inch shorter than Janice and all the hair on his head had migrated to the bushy beard on his face.
They looked like they should be opposites.
But Quinn had sworn he’d never seen his mum happier than when she married Greg.
I saw it too when we were kids. Greg McNulty was a kind man who thought the sun rose and set with Janice.
Memories washed over me, tightening my chest a bit.
“We’re showing London around her first games.” Cammie turned to gesture to us. “You remember London. And, of course, Taran.”
A flare of panic in Janice’s eyes made me feel terrible, so I stepped forward. “Hi, Janice. How are you?”
Her relief made me feel even worse. “I’m well, Taran. It’s … it’s so good to see you. I heard about the break-in. Are you both all right?”