Page 10 of Some Like It Scot
“Yes, your ladyship,” the young woman curtsied and slipped from the room, keeping to her role of Edwardian maid.
With a deep breath, Mrs. Lennox folded her hands in front of her and approached me, giving off similar vibes to my mom before my first date. That vulture-like feeling that made you feel that if she looked a little too closely, she’d see the extra layer of eye shadow you tried to slather on without notice.
“Since we only have one additional guest arriving today and the others won’t be here until tomorrow, we have some time before we initiate the full Edwardian Experience.” She spoke the last two words with that familiar flourish of both her voice and hands. “Perhaps I could give you an extensive tour of Craighill, and then, since the day is proving a dry one, you might like to explore Glenkirk. It’s a lovely village that we will involve in our experience by taking a few walks there, as any Edwardian household would have done during that time.”
And the little tour would give me even more photos and stories for my articles, podcast, and blog. I’d learned to stretch every opportunity.
Mrs. Lennox proceeded by giving me a much slower tour of the massive baronial house than I’d had the day before and then expounded a half hour about the benefits that this historic experience offered. Evidently Mrs. Lennox had an almost terrifying fascination with all things Downton, which compelled her to convince her doting millionaire husband to lease the manor house and embark on this unique career adventure.
Though we hadn’t seen much of her husband, she mentioned that he would be joining her and their daughter (whom I’d met during the parrot debacle) for the full experience. Due to said debacle, I hadn’tproperly met either one of them, but Mrs. Lennox took the opportunity to list her daughter’s attributes andlengthybout of singleness.
For a second, I began to wonder if Mrs. Lennox created this entire Edwardian Experience to catch her daughter a husband.
Props to Mrs. Lennox for going big for her daughter, but... well, there was matchmaking and then there was this—creating an entire fictional world for your child to find her early twentieth-century knight in knickers.
But in real life, meeting your match on a tiny island in an old manor house where everyone dressed up in costume? Probably not very realistic.
And then I replayed my sentence and grinned. Which part was realistic anyway?
As Mrs. Lennox left me to attend to some catastrophe in the kitchen, I glanced out one of the magnificent arched windows toward green hills and beauty. Sunlight beckoned me forward.
I always uncovered thebestadventures when I went off on my own. And today I had time to explore, so why not go ahead and search for a story to share?
Chapter 3
Katie
I snatched up the book on Scottish legends I’d purchased at an adorable bookshop in Inverness and headed out my bedroom door, energized by the idea of possible discoveries... and from the excellent sleep I’d gotten the night before. The soft night sounds of crashing waves, a warbling bird noise, and an occasional owl created a soothing lullaby. And having the windows open to the cool island breeze sent me into a sort of comatose sleep state I hadn’t experienced in years. Something about this quaint world fit me in a way I’d never imagined. A surprising match.
The same thing happened the first time I ate scallops. I was sure I was going to hate the slimy things but then had to practically redefine my future after wondering where they’d been all my life. This entire landscape Obi-Wanned me into self-reflection about why it fit, without providing any clear answers.
Weird. Captivating. And a little unsettling. Pretty much the perfect trio to describe my entire trip to Scotland so far.
I’d just pulled my backpack onto my shoulder when my phone buzzed to life in my jeans pocket. Dropping my pack down on the bed, I raised the phone and grinned at a photo of me and my closest brother.
I perched on the edge of the bed and raised the phone to my ear. “Whit like are ye, Brett?”
His chuckle emerged all warm and familiar. “Is that really a greeting from Scotland, or are you making it up?”
I settled into the conversation like a warm hug. In all my traveling, he remained constant. There. Just a little reminder that somewhere in the world, someone wondered about me and wanted to make sure I was okay.
“I heard it from a few of the locals, especially my taxi driver yesterday. You would have loved Archie. He’d make a great character in a book.”
“Do you plan to put it into one of yourKatie on the Flystories, then?”
My chest squeezed at the mention of my secret project. Brett was the only person on the entire planet who knew about the middle reader books I’d started writing three years ago. One day while sitting on a beach in Australia watching a family make a sandcastle together, I’d jotted down a few lines of a story idea and couldn’t stop. Fourteen-year-old Katie was much less accident prone and embarked on adventures to the places I’d traveled, only I’d sprinkled her stories with some fictional magic here and there. I’d just started writing book four:King Tut’s Impossible Tomb Adventure.
Despite Brett’s urging, I’d refused to send the stories to a publisher because, well, I wasn’t a fiction writer. I was atravelwriter. And I’d poured all this joy, hopefulness, and creative exploration into them. The idea of making an offering to the publishing gods of this intimate story, about the Katie I wished I were, felt way too vulnerable. Fictional Katie abounded with bravery, confidence, and certain happily-ever-afters, despite the dangers along the way. She didn’t stumble around and constantly second-guess herself—rather, she knew who she was, what she wanted, and where she belonged.
I forced a chuckle through my tightening throat. “You know I’m trying to keep it authentic for the kids.” I blinked out of my foggy emotions and gave the conversation a safe turn. “Speaking of kids, how are my favorite niece and nephew?”
“Youronlyniece and nephew,” came Brett’s unamused response.
“Which proves my point all the more.” I shrugged, as if he could see me through the phone. “We both know it will take a miracle from God for Chase to find a woman to put up with his temperament. You may be the only hope for my aunt status.”
“After being raised in a house with Mom, I think Chase is just afraid of the possibilities.”
Weren’t we all? Until Brett went off and met Jess, a wonderful woman from an equally wonderful and well-adjusted family, we three surviving siblings rarely spoke of our future families. Jess’s entrance into our family seven years ago introduced a picture within our defunct family of a happily-ever-after possibility. At least for Brett. The relationship had not only brought out his smile a lot more but had pulled him out of his shell. She proved that the right person in one’s life had power to influence that person for the good.
