Must Love Scotland (11 page)

A pity. Not a tragedy, a simple, live-and-learn pity. The music, the laughter, the old ladies dancing with each other, the babies… they helped put things in perspective.

A good beer didn’t hurt either.

“You helped, Niall,” Julie said, brushing a finger down a whisper-soft baby cheek. “Without saying a word, you reminded me that I have options and allies. It’s not me against the world, which is what Derek has always wanted me to think—that I have him or nobody. An abuser’s message, a gang leader’s message, really, and a lie. Thank you, Niall Cromarty. Thank you very much.”

Niall switched Henry to the other shoulder. “You’re welcome. Did me good to see that, though Declan might want to wreck my golf course, he’s simply protective—of the fish, the scenery, his sister’s memory. I think if he could find a way to compromise with me, he would.”

“Allies and options again,” Julie said, as the music wound to close. “Powerful notions.”

“I didn’t want you to leave with Hendershot,” Niall said quietly, as Henry stirred and yawned. “I probably ought not to say that, but I’m glad you stayed.”

A generous man, to give Julie those words. “Whatever buttons Derek was trying to push, they don’t work the way they used to. I love that. I’m so glad to be here, Niall. I meant what I said—I needed this vacation more than I knew.”

Niall smiled at her, a pleased, I’m-proud-of-you smile that warmed Julie as no ring on her finger, or black robe around her shoulders, ever would.

She needed to stop and think about that, too.

“Tomorrow we hit golf balls,” Niall said. “Long, hard drives that go straight to the green.”

“Can we hit a few of those long, hard drives tonight?” Julie asked, leaning in to kiss Niall’s cheek. The kiss was beginning to get ideas when Julie heard boots stomping up to the table.

“Is that any kind of example to set for the lad?” Declan asked, lifting Henry from Niall’s shoulder. “Carrying on in public like a pair of minks.”

“A kiss on the cheek does not make me a mink,” Julie said, bussing Declan’s cheek—and inspiring a redhead’s glorious blush.

“Americans,” Niall said, taking a sip of beer. “A friendly bunch. Did Morag dance you under the table, MacPherson?”

Declan took a seat, the baby cradled in his arms. “That she did. Me and half the pipe band. Woman is on a tear about something.”

“Her divorce is final,” Niall said. “Jeannie’s too.”

“I’d heard about Jeannie. Their husbands are fools. This is a good baby. He must take after the distant MacPherson ancestors whom he shares with me.”

Was Declan a little drunk, or had the dancing settled something in him, too?

“Thank you, Declan, for helping deal with my ex,” she said. “I had no idea he’d follow me here, much less make a nuisance of himself.”

Declan ran his nose over Henry’s cheek, which made the baby giggle and wave his arms.

“Midgies are a nuisance. That fellow was simply an ass. Cromarty is an ass too, but he’s a Scottish ass. They’re the best kind. When shall you have a look at the will, Julie Leonard?”

Niall paused mid-reach for his beer. “MacPherson, I was simply pulling the twit’s chain. I’ll not expect you to—”

“Bugger your expectations. I’ve been thinking.”

“Whyever would you take up such a peculiar habit this late in life?” Niall muttered.

The dancing was apparently over, because people were rearranging the tables, returning them to a restaurant pattern, except for the corner opposite the hearth where chairs were now organized into a circle. A woman was tuning a harp, and another had a recorder of some sort to her mouth.

“Listen to Declan, Niall,” Julie said. “You should listen to each other, rather.”

“I liked you better when you were kissing me, woman,” Declan said. “Niall, you and I need to get our differences settled. If we leave it to the lawyers and bankers and historical societies, this baby will be old and gray and nothing will be resolved, but we’ll both be bankrupt. Either the will is authentic, and I have an easement or claim of some sort on half your golf course, or it’s not, and there’s an end to it.”

“And you’ll take Julie’s word for what the will says and whether it’s authentic?” Niall asked. “I’m on mink-kissing terms with the lady, Declan. Think carefully about what you’re offering.”

Declan stared at the baby, while Julie couldn’t fathom Niall’s expression.

“Julie is a friendly sort. She kisses a lot of people,” Declan said, kissing the baby. “So do I. The way I see it, because Julie has succumbed for the moment to your feeble charms, she’ll bend over backward to be fair to me, and maybe a little bit more than fair. She’s leaving soon, which means this won’t drag out. I’ll abide by her decision if you will.”

An odd feeling uncurled in Julie’s middle, part satisfaction, part terror. “Declan, are you proposing to let me informally arbitrate your case, even though Niall and I are involved? Niall, are you comfortable with this?”

Niall’s answer was swift, his smile sweet. “I trust your integrity, Julie Leonard. I’d rather have you thrashing through this for us than some expensive expert from Edinburgh. Declan has a point—time is money, for my golf course, for his farm.”

“Jack MacNicklaus agrees with me,” Declan said to the baby. “History is made, there’s hope for your uncle, lad. Let’s go find your mum and see if she’s handing out kisses tonight too.”

He sauntered off with the baby, while in the corner, a harper began playing a lullaby.

“After the dancing comes the musician’s session,” Niall said. “Declan will get out his fiddle and play such music as will make you want to weep. Can I get you another beer?”

I trust your integrity, Julie Leonard.
Not an instant’s hesitation, no manipulation, no lurking agenda.

“No more beer for me, thanks. I can walk back to the cottage if you’d like to stay for the music, Niall.”

He rose and draped an arm around her shoulders. “I’ve been coming to these gatherings since I was a small boy, but opportunities to be with you are fast disappearing. You promised me some time this evening, Julie. Are you withdrawing that offer?”

She could. She could tell him that having been given responsibility for the fate of his dream meant she couldn’t be intimate with him. A judge had to be impartial and free of even the appearance of conflict of interest.

She wasn’t a judge, yet, and all parties had waived her conflict of interest.

“The will says what it says, Niall, if it’s even a will. I don’t want to waste an instant of the time I can share with you. Declan doesn’t expect that of us in any case.”

“He’s tired, too,” Niall said, walking Julie toward the door. “Tired of his grief, maybe tired of that damned farm.”

As they walked out to the car, a fiddle joined the harp, a slow, sweet farewell to the day and its cares, a reminder that very soon, Julie would have to bid farewell to Scotland, and to Niall.

Even without the fiddle’s sweet notes, that thought alone was enough to make Julie want to cry.

The room was dark, Declan lurked against a back wall, and Niall had taken a stool next to Julie. He’d left her alone with the document for half the morning, and she apparently hadn’t moved.

“The paper is in remarkably good shape,” Julie said, moving a light over delicate writing. “We’re lucky it wasn’t stored in a basement or an attic, where the changes in temperature and humidity can wreck the paper. We’re also lucky it was stored flat.”

She focused with an intensity Niall hadn’t seen from her, not on the golf course, anyway.

Though in bed…

“Is it a will?” Niall asked.

“I’d say yes, off the top of my head, but I’ll need to study it awhile longer. The ink has faded over time, and that helps authenticate the document. We’re also lucky it wasn’t framed, because the framing materials can acidify the document further and even accelerate the foxing.”

“Foxing?” Declan asked, shoving away from the wall and standing at Julie’s other side.

“These rusty-colored spots,” she said. “Cleaning a document this old can be bad for it, but we can work on these spots in the margins, at least.”

More hours Niall would not spend with her. “We just need you to authenticate it and figure out what it says, Julie. Prettying it up can wait.”

She didn’t even look up, she was so enthralled with that damned will. She wore white cotton gloves, and to Niall, they looked better on her than a judge’s black robe ever would.

“C’mon, Cromarty,” Declan said. “Let’s find a chip shop, and leave the lady to do her job.”

“Get me a sticky toffee pudding,” Julie said. “But don’t bring the food in here. Alfred will kill you, and I’ll help him bury the evidence.”

Niall let Declan pull him into the sunshine of a Glasgow day, the noise and bright light jarring after the quiet of the restoration studio.

“How did she find this place?” Declan asked, taking off down the street.

“Friend of her father’s,” Niall said. “Guy worked with Julie’s dad back in the States. They wrote papers together. Do you know where you’re going, MacPherson, or will we find the nearest chip shop by wandering around all afternoon?”

“We’re in Scotland, and a chip shop shouldn’t be that—what are you doing?”

Niall tapped the screen of his phone. “Best chips in Glasgow, two blocks that way.”

A nice day for a walk, fortunately.

“I’ve been thinking,” Declan said.

“I’ve warned you about thinking, MacPherson.” But what else did the man have to do when his day was spent on a tractor or with the beasts?

“We put Julie in a bad spot,” Declan said.

No,
we
hadn’t. Declan had made a suggestion, and Niall had been the one to let matters get to their present pass.

“Julie will be fair and honest, Declan. We’ll reach the right conclusion without wasting a lot of time and effort.”

They walked along about half a block. Declan wore a black work kilt with a leather sporran, Niall wore jeans. Such a pretty day, and he’d rather be sharing every moment of it with Julie.

“Her fairness and honesty could well cost you your damned plans, Cromarty. You’ve nowhere to expand if you don’t build across the river, and I’m not about to sell you half my farm. Can you imitate minks with the woman who wrecked your life?”

“I will ask Julie to marry me, regardless of the outcome with the will.” Niall had realized this as Julie had slept in his arms only hours ago.

“She steals your dreams, and you ask her to marry you. How does that work?”

Carefully, if it worked at all, but Niall wasn’t the only one whose dreams mattered.

“I want to expand the golf course, Declan. The entire valley will benefit, I’ll benefit. Jeannie’s little cottage has a good reputation, and everybody who’s stayed there from the States knows an American golfer. Five years from now, we could be hosting—”

“You should try
thinking
sometime, instead of dreaming, Cromarty. You’re telling me if Julie Leonard’s analysis of that will gives me a claim on how you use the land, and I shut down all these expansion plans, you’ll just march the lady up the aisle, no hard feelings?”

“Nobody will ever again march that woman where she doesn’t care to go. She came here determined to have a judgeship. I want her to know she has other choices.”

“Well, that’s all right then,” Declan said as they waited for a light to change. “I was prepared to cost you the woman you love, or thought I was. Seems that won’t be the case, and my inconvenient sense of decency won’t plague me on your behalf.”

They found their fish and chips shop, right across from a sweet shop that had a version of sticky toffee pudding. Niall ordered two of those, told Declan not to snitch from either, and took off on another, more important errand.

“Mind you, I’m not eating this in your holy of holies,” Declan said, passing a paper bag under Julie’s nose then setting it on the table. “I’m simply reviving the patient. You’ve been in here for more than three hours, Julie Leonard.”

“Where’s Niall?” she asked, straightening carefully. Restoration work was hard on the lower back. She’d forgotten that.

“He went on some frolic and detour. So do I get to tell him what to do with his golf course?”

Declan’s casual tone was contradicted by tightly crossed arms and broad, hunched shoulders, as if, quite possibly, Declan didn’t want to own half of Niall’s property.

“If I had come to a conclusion,” Julie said, rubbing the back of her neck, “I’d tell you both at the same time, but I haven’t. I’ve read the entire document, and made a holographic copy, but I need more information. I wish this studio had been free sooner.”

Declan opened the paper bag and passed it under Julie’s nose again, and sticky toffee heaven nearly made her light-headed.

“He loves you, you know. Niall does,” Declan said, peering into the bag.

“You are awful,” Julie replied, shoving off her stool and snatching the bag away from him. She loved Niall, too. Very much. “My plane takes off the day after tomorrow.”

“He’s giving you a choice,” Declan said, trailing after Julie as she left the restoration room. “Letting you choose between the courtroom and what you just did in there with the magnifiers and lights and such.”

“You got two spoons,” Julie said, crossing the hall to a conference room and sitting down.

“Niall bought two servings. One for you and one for me.”

“And none for him?”

“I’m hoping none for him. His golf course will make good pasture, at least. He’ll get the lady this time, though, and nothing else. I like that. Last time he turned his back on the lady, but he got the big career.”

“You’re wrong, Declan,” Julie said, tugging off her gloves. “About this time and last time. Besides, how can Niall possibly want the woman who might very well see his life’s work snatched away?”

Declan slid onto a chair at the conference table, opened the cardboard container that held one of the desserts, and dug in.

“I suggest you ask Cromarty that very question,” he said around a mouthful of pudding. “His answer is a surprise to him, and a pleasure to me. Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’m saving mine to share with Niall.”