Page 16 of Madly Deeply

He dismissed her ridiculous idea and moved carefully to the shelves, careful not to bump anything. Odd ideas ran rampant in his head, brought on by the odd company, no doubt. And he had the silly notion that these cups—over a hundred of the delicate things—watched him. As if they knew a man whose hands were calloused from mending fences and delivering lambs had no business coming near them.

But there, level with his belt buckle, sat a cup with a whimsical frog painted on the side. The creature wore a tiny crown and sober expression. Something about its mix of dignity and humor caught him. He could imagine his Gran watching him with the same look on her mug.

"That one," he said, pointing.

The sisters exchanged a look of pure shock, then tried to hide it.

"The Frog Prince," Lorraine sang. "How perfect!"

"I don't follow," Callum said, watching as Loretta carefully lifted the frog cup from its shelf.

"Just a coincidence. Nothing you’d care to hear about." She carried it to a table, then she and her sister headed for another curtain. “Sit and relax. We’ll fetch the tea. And Callum?”

“Aye?”

“Don’t leave. I promise you’ll be glad you came.”

He removed his jacket, draped it over the back of his chair. Intended for smaller people than he, the chair creaked ominously when he sat. The sound of rain was distant now, muffled by so many velvet curtains. The walls were solid. No windows or doors. No escape.

The sisters returned in only minutes, but those minutes had been torture. He had no business leaving the farm. If the Good Lord wanted him to have a wife, He should have delivered one in a livestock lorrie with a tag on her ear that read “For CallumFraser.” That way, there’d be no guessing, no wondering what to do or what to say, or whether he washowkin’ in the wrang field.

“Here we are.” The sisters emerged again, one carrying a tea tray and a steaming pot. “Nothing helps get off on the right foot like a cuppa.”

They sat across the table from him. The one poured tea into the frog cup, added milk just the way he liked it, and passed it to him. A plate of fresh-baked biscuits followed, and the smell of them reminded Callum of Gran’s cooking on holidays.

“Now,” she said, “tell us why ye think Meggie sent you to the city.”

He fortified himself with a sip and a whole biscuit before forging forward. "Honestly? It’s not a mystery. Gran's been after me to take better care of myself. Says I work too hard." He shifted uncomfortably. "Started leaving travel magazines around the house."

"And what did you think of them?" The sister to his right tested her tea and pretended the question was casual, but she was studying him. And whatever the test, he reckoned he was about to fail. "Any particular destination catch your eye?"

"Didn't really look at them." "Shouldn’t be leavin’ the farm. Not with tuppin’ season coming on."

"But Meggie said you have lots of help.” It wasn't a question.

"Aye, good help. My cousins, Allen and Fergus. Four others. Jamie's been with us since before my father passed. And his boy's learning the trade." He frowned. "But that's not the point. The farm's my responsibility."

"The way it was your father's responsibility?" Lorraine's voice was gentle. "And his father's before him?"

"Aye. And now it’s four times the size as they had.”

“Nothing wrong with tradition,” said the one on the right. But they were only patronizing him. He should go...

"No indeed." Loretta poured tea for herself. "But there's nothing wrong with new traditions. You can build your own traditions. And maybe find someone to help you with that."

If he were honest, he hoped for such a miracle daily.

"Gran says I'm turning into a hermit," he admitted. "Says I'll wake up one morning and realize twenty years have passed while I wasn't lookin’."

"Wise woman."

"Aye, well." His hands engulfed the cup. "She also believes in fairies and talks to her roses."

"That doesn’t make her wrong. After all, she sent you to us, which was the wisest move of all.”

He inhaled deeply and released his breath with a loud sigh, resigned to the fate his Gran had pushed on him. "Then I assume ye can help me.” He couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice. "With what, exactly?"

"That depends entirely on what you're willing to accept." Loretta settled into a chair across from him. "We suggest a journey."

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