Page 48 of Some Like It Scot
“Ah yes.” Mirren chuckled and poured a cup of tea into a lovely teacup with blue flowers on it. “How much do you weigh? Or do you calculate it in kilograms?”
Did she just ask me how much I weighed? “Um... I know kilograms are used throughout most of Europe, but stones?” My grin wobbled a little wider. “By the way, I like the idea of saying how many stones you are much better than pounds.” I laughed. “Kudos to Britain! I mean, it could really boost a girl’s confidence to say something like, ‘Oh, I’m measured in diamonds or rubies.’ Nice way to spin the usually negative view on weight.”
“You have a great sense of humor, Katie-girl.” Mirren’s smile spread into a chuckle as she offered me the teacup. “It does a heart good for the troubles of the world to bring some laughter into it.”
I paused on the sentiment. Surely Mirren couldn’t know about my history or how humor had rescued me so many times in my grief. But her sentence hit too near the truth. “It’s what I’m paid to do. Make lemonade out of lemons, so to speak.”
“Aye, so I’ve seen.”
“You have?”
“Aye.” She placed a cookie on a small plate and offered it to me. “I’ve started following your blog online.” A twinkle deepened the blue of her eyes. “The most recent article amused me more than I can say. Only the smartest lasses want to fall for a Scot.”
Heat infused my face to such a degree, I was pretty sure all the water still on my cheeks evaporated. “Well, the title was a great eye-catcher created bymy editor.”
Just to be clear.
“Indeed.” She waved toward the cup in my hand. “Drink your tea before it cools too much to do ye any good.” She poured another cup. “A stone equals fourteen pounds, so ten stones are a hundred and forty.”
I’m pretty sure I felt the hot trail of tea move all the way to my stomach, shooting warmth through my extremities like an internal hug. Gracious sakes, these Scots dabbled in magic. “Ah, well, then I’m closer to 12 stones.” I leaned in, lowering my voice. “I take after my sturdy gran.”
“More of you to love, is what my gran always said.” Mirren offered a wink. “Besides, there’s something to be said for a strong woman, isn’t there? Outside and in.” Her gaze took on a prodding look. “Able to weather the storms of life, only to come out the other side with a smile.”
Sometimes a fake smile.
I’d mastered that. After all, authenticity and cyberland rarely walked hand in hand. Still, my smile wasn’t always an act. Folks like her seemed to sneak beyond the superficial, straight to the heart, much too quickly for my defenses. Kind of like my grandparents, reminding me of something real and true. And good. A heavenly kind of love spilling down to earth.
Though sometimes I had to wrestle my doubts about God’s love into submission when I viewed them through the lens of my fourteen-year-old self trying to come to terms with a loss my parents refused to discuss and the weight of responsibility no child should have to carry.
Humans! Why God kept loving us baffled me sometimes.
“So far, I’ve been measured in precious stones and told my healthy stature just proves more to love. What’s not to like about thatperspective?” I raised my teacup in cheers. “Mirren, I think you are my favorite person I’ve met in Scotland so far.”
The woman’s chuckle warmed me before her arms did, but when she reached over and gave me a hug, a barrier within my heart cracked a little. She smelled of baked goods and rose hand cream. She hugged like she meant it.
And despite every cell in my body screaming retreat, I... lingered. Right there in her hug. And fought the heat gathering beneath my eyelids. Just a moment. Long enough to create a memory. Because it couldn’t be anything more.
Between Mirren and her motherly affection and Graeme and his... attraction, the sooner I slipped back up to crazy Craighill and away from all these temptations, the better off I’d be.
If I just steered clear of Glenkirk for the next two weeks, I wasn’t as likely to see Graeme or Mirren as often, and the temptation to fall into a friendship with either of them would prove less likely.
Because if Mirren turned out to be as sweet and welcoming and wonderful as she appeared, and my heart got the smallest taste of that, no amount of generic may ever satisfy again.
And I didn’t belong here.
Chapter 10
Graeme
I couldn’t say no.
It was too good an offer.
Maybe.
But as I stood inside the drawing room wearing butler’s livery and waiting for my first “assignment” as a play actor in this insane world Lennox had concocted, the cost felt much greater than the payment. I resisted the urge to tug at my bow tie again. When was the last time I wore something so useless? And I’d never worn tails. Or braces to hold up my trousers.
If I could just keep this annoying agreement from Calum, perhaps I’d retain a little dignity. He’d never let me live it down. And Peter would have shared the news with the whole island. The youngest MacKerrow never failed to talk, often, to everyone.
