Page 49 of Played

“Fine. I’ll call us a cab.”

We do just that and find ourselves home hours later. Trudy doesn’t quiz me on what happened with Ethan, and I’m grateful for that. The only regret I have is that I didn’t even get to meet little Peg, but I had to get out of there. It was getting too intense. When we arrive home, Trudy stays the night, and when I’m awake in the morning, she’s already gone, and she’s taken the rental car with her, leaving me a text to say that she’ll return it.

As I sit there, on the edge of my bed, my duffel bag is calling to me from the corner of my closet. I haven’t used it since my last excursion about two months ago, for a conference, in Virginia. But what’s really calling to me is Scotland. I haven’t been home in over a year, and it beckons me. Without a second thought, I pack my bag, this time with real stuff, not just for a faithless overnight stay, and I head out the door, with only a one sentence email to my boss, stating that I’ll be taking some personal time off. He responds without a question, as I’ve never taken time off, and my bank of vacation hours is so full, I’d never be able to burn it all off.

I catch a flight, miraculously, and I’m off. While I do have family in Scotland, I prefer to stay at my own little retreat, far away from civilization, in a small town. It’s a tiny cottage next to a farm, with only one bedroom, a bathroom, a small kitchenette, and a four-season porch, which is its best feature. This is where I used to come to think, when I needed to think, long before Ethan, when I had nothing, when this house was all I had that was mine. I kept it, knowing that it costs nothing to maintain. Sure, I could have rented it out, but then it wouldn’t be mine to stay at, on a whim. And then what would be the point.

As I sit in the house, I realize how filthy it is, and I begin cleaning like a madwoman. Luckily, it’s so tiny, I’m finished in a couple of hours, feeling invigorated, but starved. There is literally nothing to eat here, so I hop into my rental car and head into town. I once had a cheap little beater here that I kept only for visits, but I gave it to a young student, who needed it way more than I did. I tell no one where I am. Including Trudy. After the wedding, and everything that’s happened recently, I just want to disappear for a while. My work isn’t even on my mind. And I’ve put in so many hours lately, that nothing will suffer if I kick back for a while, and I need to do that.

Being in Scotland after such a long time is refreshing and nostalgic. It brings back memories of my childhood, which was very pleasant, compared to some stories I’ve heard, including little Peg’s. I’m very fortunate. Despite my love life being a shambles, there really isn’t any other place in my life where I have room for complaints. I’m successful, I have great friends and family, my boss is the best, and my own company is fruitful. As I’m cruising around the little town, I visit a bakery, where I know the owner.

For an old-fashioned baker, complete with a pot belly stove, the woman always has the latest and greatest technology around. “Mary, how are you?” I ask, when I see the older woman. She’s got a flat screen television hanging on the wall, juxtaposing the old-world smells of fresh bread and baked goods, and she’s streaming some American show.

“Ah, Freya. How nice to see you, lass.” She smiles. The woman has a dish on the side of the building, where she can pick up any channel in the world. As she hugs me, I see the Apple watch on her wrist.

“Mary, you slay me. Look at you. Gosh, I don’t even have one of these.” I tell her, looking at her watch.

“Oh, my grandson keeps me up to date. Says it’s important to know exactly what’s going on in the world. You know…” She speaks behind her hand, even though there is nobody else in the store at this late hour. “Terrorists.”

“Well, I don’t know any personally, but I get it.” I say, observing the delicious pastries behind the glass dome.

“I see that McAdams girl married Caleb Harris…just yesterday.”

I nod. “I was there, actually.”

She’s impressed. “You’re kidding.”

“No. Dougall Harris himself invited me.”

“You’re kidding.” She repeats.

“Not at all. I came here right after the wedding.” I tell her, leaving out the part where I basically ditched the event, to hop on a plane.

“Oh, and I heard about that poor woman and the wee bairn. You know the kidnapper got extradited back here to Scotland.” She’s matter-of-fact, nodding, pleased with herself for knowing.

“I heard he was going to be, but I didn’t know it actually happened.”

“Aye. I heard he put up a real fuss. He and Gretchen knew each other.”

“Aye. He was one of her sponsors.”

“That’s what I heard. Damn shame. Thinking you can trust someone around your bairn, and then he goes and pulls something like that.”

“Money. It’s the route of all evil, Mary.”

“Aye. That’s why I run this little shop. It earns me just enough money to keep my house up and give me a decent retirement. My son keeps saying he’s going to look after me, but there’s no need.”

The bakery has a small apartment above, where Mary lives. Her husband died decades ago in a fire, the life insurance money he left her is how she opened the bakery. Sometimes she says that his death was a blessing in disguise, since she’d never have the money to open the business otherwise.

“You and I are such similar creatures, Mary.”

“Aye, I bought your program, lass! I use it every day!”

My mouth opens wide as I smile at her. “Mary, you didn’t have to go and buy it. I would have gladly given you a copy.”

She waves. “I would never take charity, Freya.”

“It’s not charity. God, how long have I known you for?”

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