Waterfall Glen (23 page)

“Sounds like you’ve got it all thought out.”

“Not the details, but I’m excited at the thought of working them out, too.”

“You seem to be a bit of a natural at this,” Cameron told her.

“What?”

“Planning weddings.”

“It’s not that, it’s just that everything we’ll need is right here in the glen …” Kate’s voice trailed away after she said that, and her expression changed from one of excitement to a much more thoughtful look.

“Just thought of a snag?” Cameron asked.

She shook her head.

Cameron couldn’t work out what she was thinking of, so finally he had to ask. “What is it, Kate?”

The excitement returned to her face, and there was even more of it than there had been before. “I think it could be the bright idea I was looking for. The one that just might save Greystane and Glen Cranoch and the people in this banquet hall.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Weddings, Cameron! Think about everything you need for a wedding, and we’ve got it in Greystane and The Cranoch. We’ve got a chapel for the service; a banquet hall you can hold a dance in; flowers; food; a dozen fantastic places for taking the most romantic of photos …” She
was so excited that the words weren’t coming out in any particular order. “It’s all here, Cameron, right here.”

Cameron thought about it, then said, “I don’t want to put a damper on things like Archie Cunningham was doing all night, but unfortunately ‘here’ is the middle of nowhere. It’s an ideal, convenient location for people who live in the glen, but beyond that—”

“You’ve obviously never read a wedding magazine.”

“You’ve got me there.”

“People get married in Mauritius, the Seychelles, the Maldives—they want somewhere remote and romantic. And let’s face it, where are you going to find anywhere more romantic than a Highland glen with a castle on a crag?” She was on a roll. “It’s like that crofter shouted out from the back of the hall: us Yanks love places like this. Everybody laughed at him, but he’s right. We are suckers for this sort of thing. In the States our idea of history starts about 200 years ago, and an old building is one that dates to 1900. Millions of us can trace our roots to this part of the world, and we’re curious about what it’s like, about where we come from. We long to see it for ourselves, get in touch with the romance of it, the wild beauty, the pride and passion—to feel that those things are part of where we came from, and so a part of who we are. All those things are here, Cameron, in spades and for real, not in some made-up, theme park version.

“And besides, it really is the best of both worlds. It looks remote, like it belongs to another time, but there’s an
airport not even an hour’s drive away.”

“Sorry to play the part of Archie Cunningham again, but what he said about the problems that stop it being any good as a hotel still follow for what you have in mind. You’re right about the banquet hall being designed for things like weddings and dances, but back then the guests were locals who could walk back to their cottages at the end of the night. You couldn’t offer to put dozens of wedding guests up in Greystane, because there’s nowhere for them to go.”

Kate thought about that for a few moments, and a smile crossed her face. “The answer’s in what you just said about how the guests would go back to their cottages after parties in the old days. I’m guessing the crofters of The Cranoch are always looking for ways of making money—they’d be glad to offer bed and breakfast. And can you imagine how American wedding guests would feel at the thought of being able to say they’d stayed in a Highland croft rather than in some bland, chain hotel? Maybe we could even renovate some of the old township crofts around the lochan, Cameron.”

Archibald Cunningham chose that moment to came over and say goodnight. Before he could open his mouth, Kate said, “Ah, Archie, just the man.”

He looked taken aback—he’d seen Kate crying and dejected; he’d never seen her looking anything like this.

“I think I might have an idea for saving The Cranoch,” she told him.

The lawyer raised his eyebrows, and before he could
ask what the idea was, Kate was telling him. The words were the same as the ones she’d used to explain things to Cameron, but again they came out in a jumble rather than in any particular order. Archibald Cunningham didn’t interrupt her, sensing that he wouldn’t have had a chance of getting a word in edgeways no matter how hard he tried.

Once Kate finished, the lawyer thought over what she’d said.

“What do you think?” Kate asked him. When he didn’t answer right away she said, “Come on, Archie, what do you think?”

“I think it might work …”

Kate was almost jumping up and down.

“But—”

“Don’t dare make this a big ‘but,’ Archibald Cunningham.”

“It’s not a small one, but it’s not insurmountable. It’ll just take some thought to get around it, that’s all.”

“What is it, Archie?”

“Your product is a winner, I’m sure of that. It’s just that it’s a niche product, and to sell enough of it you’d really have to get your act together when it comes to putting it out there in the marketplace.”

Kate took some deep breaths, trying to get her head together. “There are ways to do it. There have to be.”

“Aye, well, remember that people plan weddings a fair while in advance.”

“But they also pay deposits well in advance,” she
pointed out.

“You’re determined to make this work, aren’t you?” Archibald Cunningham said.

“Yes, I am.”

“I hope I made it clear that the estate can’t keep going much longer. You don’t have much time, Lady Kate.”

“I’ll buy as much time as I can. I’d sell my share in Kate’s Crafts without a second thought if I believed there was a realistic chance to make The Cranoch a going concern, rather than just keep it staggering along on its last legs for another few months.”

“If you feel that strongly, it might just be worth giving it a go.”

“It is worth it, Archie. More worth it than anything else I’ve ever tried to do.”

“Well, let me know how I can help,” he told her. “And let them know, too.” He pointed at the crofters, who were enjoying the food that had earlier lain untouched. “They’re resourceful and they have skills and talents you might not expect.”

Kate smiled, shook his hand, and then gave him a parting peck on the cheek.

When Archie had gone she turned to Cameron and said, “You could be a big part of this, too. You said you thought being a freelancer might not pay. Well, how about doing the wedding photos—not just for this marriage, but for all the others that, with a bit of luck, will follow. It might help you to stay in the glen, rather than have to look
for a dull job and a flat in Inverness.”

Cameron didn’t say anything.

“Somehow I get the impression you’re not completely sold on the idea,” Kate said, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.

“I think your idea’s great, and there’s a chance it could work. It’s just my part in it that I’m not so sure about.”

“Why?”

“It’s like you were saying last night, about not being able to do sculptures any more; that’s what I’m like with taking photographs of people.”

“You’ll mellow out once you have a few of these inside you,” Kate said, holding up her glass.

“And besides,” she smiled demurely, “maybe if you fall in love yourself you’ll have a greater empathy with your subjects. I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”

Sandy Alexander and his family came over before Cameron could respond to that. Gesturing to Pamela and Ross, Sandy said, “They’ve got something they want to say to you, Lady Kate.”

“We want to thank you, Lady Kate,” Ross said.

“You’re most welcome,” Kate told him. Looking at Pamela as well, she added, “Don’t ask me how I know this, but something tells me you’re going to be very happy together.”

The young couple blushed and turned to leave. Sandy hung back to say, “Once again, Lady Kate, my heartfelt thanks.”

“Actually, Sandy, it’s me who should be thanking you,” Kate told him.

K
ATE AND
C
AMERON STARTED BECOMING MORE THAN
simply friends in the days that followed, and Glen Cranoch became their home. There were times when they forgot about the world outside the glen, and there were moments when they forgot about everyone else in the world except each other.

Cameron phoned the various contractors who’d given estimates for renovating Jamie’s Cottage, picked one who could start doing the work immediately, and helped out as an extra laborer.

Meanwhile Kate set about her new role as a wedding planner with enthusiasm and excitement, using the forthcoming marriage of Pamela and Ross to gain experience of putting together the kind of package that would be her product. With help from Miss Weir—whose inspired suggestions revealed unfulfilled dreams of love and marriage and a hitherto well-concealed romantic side—Kate set about compiling a list of all the ingredients for a fairytale wedding. The next stage involved Finlay as well as Miss
Weir—the three of them went through the list, working out what the estate and its people could provide, and what would have to be sourced from further afield.

Their lives soon fell into a pattern. They got up early and breakfasted together in the kitchen. Finlay found an extra couple of stools, and Miss Weir took it upon herself to feed Cameron up as he was obviously “another sufferer of that dyslexia nervosa”.

After that Cameron walked to Waterfall Bridge with Kate at his side and Hamish scampering along just ahead of them, setting the pace. It was a slow pace but they didn’t mind because there was so much to enjoy in the surroundings and each other that they didn’t want to hurry.

Kate and Hamish turned back at the foot of the steps cut into Jamie’s Crag. Cameron climbed them and got things ready for the workmen, or just sat outside the cottage and looked out over the lochan and the dramatic sweep of the hills on either side. His favourite mornings were the ones when there was a mist over the water and the hillsides were hidden, with only the rocky summits visible. At such times he could imagine he was looking at little islands in the sky and he’d feel a swelling in his chest at the beauty of it, a peace in the present that was so different from what he saw when he looked into the past.

By the time the workmen arrived at the cottage Kate was back in the study at Greystane, scribbling down a list of things to do for the day and then working her way through it. Before long she’d head down to the kitchen to
seek the advice of Miss Weir about something or other. As often as not she’d stay there for the rest of the morning, discussing solutions to little difficulties, embellishing ideas—and sharing a pot of tea and plate of scones. She found an empty cardboard folder in Colin Chisholm’s old bureau and neatly printed WEDDING PLANS on the front, but before long it was bulging at the seams and she had to appropriate one of his black family tree ringbinders to accommodate her wedding planner’s file.

Just before noon Finlay would appear by magic at the kitchen door, as often as not with a fish for the pan or a rabbit for the pot. He’d announce his presence with a not too subtle cough, or a peeved, “I’ll just see to my own lunch,” and Kate and Miss Weir would look up from a table covered in files and folders, empty mugs, and crumb-filled plates.

After hastily clearing the table they’d prepare a sandwich for Finlay and lunch hamper for Cameron and the builders.

Hamish would be waiting for Kate outside the kitchen or at the door in Greystane’s walls and they’d take the path to the right, down through the forested hillside to Waterfall Bridge. Kate would set the wicker basket down at the foot of Jamie’s Crag and lift Hamish up on top. Then, with the hamper cradled in both arms, and Hamish perched on top of it, she’d climb the rough-hewn stairs.

If Cameron was outside the cottage Kate would just stand there for a little while watching him work with pick or shovel, mason’s hammer or bricklayer’s trowel—enjoying the sight of him stripped to the waist, loving the play of the
lean muscles in his arms and across his back—and usually it was a bark from Hamish that alerted him to her presence.

If Cameron was working inside, he’d hear Kate calling “Lunchtime!” through the doorway. She’d hand a flask of tea and bag of sandwiches to the workmen, and keep another flask and some sandwiches for herself and Cameron. Then, with Hamish in her arms, she’d lead the way down Jamie’s Crag while Cameron followed with the hamper.

Sitting on the parapet of Waterfall Bridge, with the crags on either side and the lochan shimmering below in the mid-day sun, they’d recount the morning’s little problems and how they’d been resolved, and discuss the challenges that lay ahead and how they might be overcome. Sometimes they’d talk about the beautiful things around them; sometimes they’d just look at those things and listen to the water running beneath their feet and cascading into the glen below, not feeling the need to speak because the timeless sound of river and waterfall said it all.

Then, with the food eaten and the tea drunk and no more excuses for not doing the things that still had to be done, Kate and Hamish would head back up Castle Crag to Greystane, while Cameron climbed the steps backup to Jamie’s Cottage.