Sweet Christmas Kisses (125 page)

He shrugged. "One of us would pull over. I wasn't going fast as ye'd think."

She looked at the letter in her hand, then searched the buildings.  "Do you know where Simpson's office is? The address only lists the name of this road."

He pulled his car halfway up onto the sidewalk and pointed to a nondescript building with a faded blue door across the road   "I'll be down at the pub waiting. Do ye want my mobile number?"

"Good idea.  I have no idea how long I'll be."

After they exchanged numbers, she watched as he unfolded himself from behind the wheel of the low-slung car and sauntered away.

He'd been surprisingly kind, given his abrupt manner yesterday.  Until now she'd had no doubt about why a man like him might be here in the middle of nowhere on a year-long sabbatical.  Alone.

But now she began to wonder.

But he'd shown surprising courtesy in offering her a ride here, and he'd even flashed a brief smile or two. Surely there were plenty of women who had tried to catch his eye.

At the blue door, she'd just raised her hand to knock when the door swung open. 

"You must be Lucy Davis," a portly, balding man announced with a jovial laugh.  "Right on time.  Good flights?" 

Without waiting for an answer, he ushered her past a small reception area and into a crowded office lined with bookshelves and an eclectic mix of chairs.

He rounded a massive desk and plopped down in his chair, pulled on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses then leaned back to study her over his steepled fingers. "A spitting image of your aunt, you are."

 "You're the second person to say so."   Lucy bit her lip, trying to keep the wistful note from her voice.  "I wish I could have met her."

"And why didn't ye come, after all these years?"  He eyed her closely, then gave a dismissive wave of his hand.  "Then again, not many young folks are interested in the dust of history on their family tree anymore.  And that's all right."

 "Everyone here seems to think me pretty heartless, but like I told the ladies at the B&B, my mother always said that her relatives were deceased. I had no idea Maura was still alive."

"That's a sad state of affairs." He reached for a manila folder and opened it up in front of him.  Shuffled through the thick stack of papers inside, then pulled one to the top and tapped them neatly into realignment. "But what you're wanting to know is where we go from here, I expect."

"Honestly, I'm baffled.  Your first letter simply indicated that my aunt's possessions included some family mementoes I might want to keep, as well as a lot that could be donated to Goodwill---or whatever charities you have here."

"Right. There are several cancer charity shoppes in the county.  They're always happy to take in quality items. Same for the Heart Association."

"But you didn't say anything about real estate. I had no idea that she owned property."

He cleared his throat.  "Which is as Maura wished it. Your aunt was very clear about wanting you as her heir, but she stipulated that you had to come to Scotland to discover what was entailed, and then claim your inheritance. She felt that if you were to see it all firsthand and more fully understood the situation, you wouldn't simply try to dispose of it all from afar."

"She was thinking of Sorcha and Aileen."

He nodded. "That, too. The three of them were like family, this past decade or so.  Maura wanted them to be able to remain in the house for as long as they are able.  When her own health started to fail, she signed agreements that gave them that right--with proper rent, of course--just so long as the property remained in her family."

"And the cottage?"

"Now that situation is more complicated. Dr. MacLaughlin has a one year lease, no matter happens with the main house, and at the end of it he has an option to buy." Simpson cleared his throat.  "The uncertainty of its ultimate availability would complicate sale of the rest of the property, which may or may not include that valuable piece."

"I certainly don't want to force anyone out of their home."  Lucy fingered her mother's old garnet ring, then looked up again.  "Can the arrangements with Brodie and the ladies somehow be protected in a sales contract?  And until the property can be sold, can I just turn the B&B over to a manager?"

"That's where things become a bit more difficult."

An uneasy knot started to tighten in her stomach.  "Just...how difficult?"

He tapped the stack of documents on his desk.  "To receive your inheritance--any part of it--you must stay at Rosethorn for a full thirty days."

"What?" She felt the blood drain from her face.  "I--I can't stay here that long.  I have to find a new job.  I have a lease, and bills to pay.  A neighbor is taking care of my cats, and--"

"I understand," he broke in with a gentle smile.

"But...but you should have told me all of this before I made this trip." She stared at him.  "You did promise to cover my return flight, right?"

"That I did. As I mentioned in my letter, I booked just a one-way trip here so you could decide how long you wanted to stay.  The time frame is up to you."

Lucy sat back in her chair.  She'd never been out of the States until now. How long had it been since she'd had a real vacation?  "It does sound enticing..."

"I can't guess at all of her reasons, but Maura was an intelligent, lovely woman, and I know she dearly wanted you to have a chance to connect with your Scottish roots even if she couldn't be a part of that experience."  He gave her a complacent smile.  "As for your financial worries, she wrote her will several years ago, and couldn't have guessed at what your situation would be when she passed.  But she was comfortably well off and wanted you to be able to stay for a while.  Her will states that your expenses--both back home and here--will be covered during the month she wanted you to stay.  You needn't worry about defaulting on any of your bills."

"But if I had to leave sooner?"

"You would have your tickets home paid for, of course.  But you would not inherit a single pound. The property and all the contents would be auctioned, with the proceeds going to charity."

"And then Sorcha and Aileen would have to move."

"Correct. Though I think you can see it will be well worth your time to stay.  You'll then own a lovely income property, and the contents of the buildings. Somewhere in the house, Maura planned to leave you information on the family you had in Scotland, so you'll want to keep a close eye out for that."

"A month in the beautiful highlands, versus a month back in Chicago job hunting," Lucy said slowly, her mind spinning.  "I guess it's an easy choice."

Simpson gave her a satisfied smile.  "I should think so. Only a fool would second-guess such an opportunity." 

"Are there any other surprises I should know about?

He tut-tutted as he shuffled the stack of documents back into the file, slipped them into a desk drawer, and locked it. "A few minor details, but we can talk about them when I get back from London."

She stilled.  "What other details?"

"You've got enough to think about right now." He glanced at his watch and stood.  "It'll keep."

"Please...don't leave me hanging."

"Nothing of consequence." He reached for his keys, lifted his trilby hat from a coat rack near the desk, then ushered her out the front door.

"Please?"

He'd started for a black Astra parked in front, but then stopped and turned back. "Maura wanted her will read to you at the end of the four weeks, when you've had a chance to learn a bit about your family heritage.  And that I'll do."

"Anything else?"

He cleared his throat.  "There's just one other stipulation about the property--if you stay here long enough to claim it."

"And that is?"

"Simple enough.  It canna be sold outside of the family." He doffed his hat to her, then climbed into his car and drove away.

 She managed a weak laugh as she stared after the car disappearing down the narrow road and thought about the beautiful old home and cottage--both old enough to face untold problems with wiring, plumbing, heating and leaky roofs.

It had to stay in the family? Then that was all simple enough, indeed.

Accepting it all would mean a lifetime sentence of debt and responsibility, because unless her mother and Maura were wrong, the only person left in the family was her.

In a daze, Lucy headed into dark, wood paneled pub, found Brodie sitting at a high top watching a soccer match on a wide screen TV, and settled onto a stool next to him.

She eyed the can of Coke and the basket of fish and chips in front of him, then motioned for the bartender to order the same. 

It appeared in minutes--complete with the same little cup of bright green mush.  "What is that?" she said under her breath after the server left.

"Mushy peas."

"Why?" 

"Tradition. Color."

The chips--fat, soft French fries with a crisp exterior--were perfect.  The delectably light coating on the thick pieces of moist cod was heavenly.  The smashed peas she left alone.  She munched in silence, her thoughts swirling through her brain like rabid cats.

She looked up and found Brodie watching her with a bemused expression. 

"Apparently you liked the fish and chips part."

She looked down at her empty basket.  "Nervous eater."

"And do you have a lot to worry about?"

His voice sounded mellow and hushed in this dark little cavern of a pub, flowing over her like a balm to her frazzled nerves.

"Simpson says I can simply go home, or stay a full four weeks and remain Maura's heir."

"And that's a problem?"  He gave her a dry look.  "Really?"

"I...I just don't know.  My mother would never say much about her Scottish relatives, no matter how much I begged while I was growing up. What she did say wasn't flattering, and she seemed to harbor a lot of resentment towards them until the day she died."

A shadow crossed Brodie's face. "Family isn't always a joy now, is it?"

 She shot a glance at him, wondering what he was thinking.  "It somehow feels greedy to accept all of this from someone I never even met." 

 "When you are satisfying a dying woman's wish?  It was Maura's choice.  Apparently it made her happy thinking everything could stay in her family."

"That's the other thing.  I'm overwhelmed by this gift. Truly.  I'd be a fool if I wasn't.  But Simpson said I could never sell it outside the family--and apparently I'm the only one left.  Ever seen the movie Money Pit? I have no idea about any of this. There could be crushing maintenance debts that could never be covered with the income from a B&B. Complications of owning property in a foreign country that I could rarely afford to visit."

"Then a good solicitor could likely find options.  Or you could give the place over to the National Trust, maybe." 

"Really?"

"They can't take on every moldering old pile, but Rosethorn dates to the mid 1700's and has a lot of history behind it." 

"But if that happened, Sorcha and Aileen would lose the home they love. I barely know them, but I'd feel guilty forever."

"Which will eventually happen anyway, unless you decide to stay on." Brodie took a last swallow of his Coke. 

She wondered at the dry note in his voice.  "You must think I'm ridiculous to even hesitate."

"You're only bein' careful.  No harm in that." The last of his chips disappeared, and he reached into his jeans pocket to leave a tip on the table.  "Weighty thoughts, then."

"Weighty thoughts," she echoed.

He escorted her out to his car with a light touch of his fingertips at her lower back that sent unexpected little shimmers of awareness through her.

Shimmers that she quickly doused with a good dose of reality.

Though he'd seemed brusque and dismissive yesterday, Brodie MacLaughlin had been nothing but kind and charming today...and from the first moment she'd laid eyes on him she'd felt an elemental physical attraction.

What would it be like to get to know him better?  To spend a little time with a charming, handsome Scot before going back to her oh-so ordinary life?

But she'd be leaving Scotland in a month, and thanks to Todd, she'd recently discovered how poor a judge of character she was.

Romantic complications on any level just weren't worth the time.

Once again, both of the old ladies were at the kitchen table sipping tea when Lucy walked into the kitchen after her appointment with the solicitor. This time, there was a plate of scones and a square glass jar of lemon curd on the table between them. 

Maxie, curled up on a rug by the door, lifted his head to look at her, then dropped back to sleep.

"We hope your visit with George went well," Sorcha said.

The two of them had been Maura's friends for years, and Lucy wondered just how much they knew about the arrangements Maura had made.  "It did."

Both of them looked at her expectantly.

"There were...a few surprises."

The two of them exchanged a quick look.

"And?" Aileen prompted, leaning forward and grasping her mug in both hands.

"I discovered that I'll need to stay for the next month."

"And ye will?" Aileen's knuckles whitened as she gripped her mug tighter.  "You'll stay on that long?"

Lucy had thought they might be afraid that she would simply put the property up for sale and head back to the States, but apparently they did know about the extra stipulations. "I'll stay."

Aileen's relief was palpable.  "Good, then.  We're both glad of that."

"I suspect you'll be wanting a little tour, now that you're staying on." Sorcha lumbered to her feet.  "Unless you'd like some tea first.  You went off to bed too early for a proper introduction last night."

"We should start at the front entry, don't you think?"

Sorcha gave her a warning look.  "I don't think--"

"We should," Aileen insisted, taking Lucy's hand and leading her to a dark, wood paneled vestibule.  A beveled, full-length mirror covered one wall, and a small chandelier hung from a chain overhead.