Page 38 of Duke It Out
“Talking of which,” I say, glancing at my watch, “I probably ought to get to the shop and get back before I get too comfortable in my role as secret estate spy. I don’t want him coming to check up on me and realising I’ve been living my best life in a fancy coffee shop.”
“The only coffee shop,” Kate says, laughing. “Don’t worry, nothing goes un-noticed in Loch Morven. He’ll know all about it one way or another by the end of the day. I’d better get the laptop out and sort out these accounts. Come and see me up at the yard soon? We can have a coffee there and you can fill me in on all the scandal you uncover.”
“I’ve signed an NDA. My head will be on the block if I start spilling state secrets.”
Kate laughs. “Okay, I’ll make wild guesses, and you can tell me if I’m right. The rumour mill is rife among the estate staff.”
“Deal.” I put my bag on my shoulder and pick up the bag of cardamom buns I’ve bought for Janey and Gregor.
I wave as I leave the coffee shop, the salt air blowing off the sea as I open the door and step back into the village. My mind is buzzing, not with thoughts of the book, but questions about Rory. I tell myself it’s about the job, but I’m lying to myself. There’s something else, something I felt when he looked in the hallway. Like he was trying not to feel anything.
It makes a weird sort of sense, having a no ties night in Manhattan with someone you’re never going to see again. Nowonder he’s so guarded with the weight of all that stuff on his shoulders. I drive back across the moors, trying to think about work but my mind keeps pulling me back. I want to find a way to get him to open up. I want to know what’s going on behind that stern patrician demeanour. And I want to know what Kate means by the estate gossip, too.
16
EDIE
I putthe brown paper bag down on the kitchen table. “Brought you a present,” I say, feeling shy. I don’t know Janey that well. It felt like a nice thing to do when I was in the coffee shop, and now it feels a bit weird. Like I’m trying to buy her friendship with cardamom buns.
“Oh my God, you’re an angel.” She picks up the bag and sniffs it with her eyes closed. “Gregor, come and look at this.”
The stocky Glaswegian appears from the pantry, wiping his hands on a linen dishtowel.
“You know the way to a man’s heart,” he says with a grin. He turns to Janey. “This one’s a keeper, I’d say.”
I gesture vaguely with my hands. “I had no idea these buns were basically currency.”
Janey offers me one and I shake my head. “I had one at the café.”
“Amazing restraint if you can stop at one,” she says, her mouth full. “I swear I’d sell my firstborn for the recipe.”
“You’d sell your firstborn anyway, from the sounds of it.”Gregor grins as he hitches a hip up onto the table and helps himself to one of the pastries.
“Oh, don’t say that.” Janey widens her eyes. “He’s in New Zealand,” she explains to me, picking up Gregor’s towel and folding it in half. “Working in a tattoo parlour.” She smooths the fabric out then folds it again, without thinking.
“I’m only kidding you. He’s a good laddie.”
Janey puts a hand to her chest. “I’m okay when I don’t think about it. Sometimes though it hits me and I’m like, how the hell have I ended up with both my lovely boys on the other side of the world?”
“You’ve got two grown up sons? You don’t look anywhere old enough.”
“Oh, believe me, I am. I’m fifty-two.”
She’s in jeans and a blue and white striped top with red converse sneakers, the universal uniform of women over forty-five or so.
“You don’t look it,” I say truthfully.
“Buns and compliments. Okay,” Janey says, reaching out and putting a hand on my knee for a moment. “We’re keeping you, it’s official.”
I look around the sunny, bright kitchen for a moment. Light streams through the window, filtering through the spider plants which trail down the side of the shelves. Colourful cookbooks are stacked neatly alongside heavy Le Creuset pots. A bright red KitchenAid mixer sits on the side by the Belfast sink. The whole place looks like something from a home magazine, and I feel a pang of regret that I can’t stay here forever, drinking coffee and feeling oddly at home in the weirdest of circumstances.
“When’s he back?”
Janey pushes the towel away and looks up at Gregor. “After the holidays. He’s fuming because he’s missing the ball.”
“Missing the free drink, more like. Do you remember the state he was in last year?”
Janey grins. “How could I forget. I was scrubbing red wine off the carpet for weeks.” She turns to me. “You’ll be here for the ball. Did Rory mention it?”
