Page 64 of Lochlan

“Good answer.”

I get to my feet. “I'll be heading back to my office, unless you want to berate me about something else.”

“No.” He exhales a sigh. “I've said everything on my mind. You're free to wreck your life as you see fit.”

* * *

I avoidmy office for a walk among the vines. I've already spoken to Logan about Kenzie's painting. He said it was a gift, but since we're planning to use the image for advertising, I offered him a percentage of any merchandise that the image appears on. He was more than happy and we set a date for me to go to his studio for dinner and to help him decide on which paintings he will use in his exhibition. I have to admit, talking to Logan was the easy part. Kenzie needs to give me permission before I can proceed. I had planned to do a quick phone call, then decided against it. I'll need time to explain the painting and what I've used it for.

It's been a few days since I was at Kenzie's apartment. I'm hoping that it's early enough to catch her before whatever she's doing today. The painting is tucked under my arm when I take the elevator up to her apartment. I press the doorbell and listen to it ring in the apartment. My nervousness mounts, waiting for someone to answer. I'm about to leave, when a female with a throw over her shoulder and a severe case of bed head answers the door, yawning. “Can I help you?”

“Is Kenzie here? I'm Lochlan MacTavish.”

Her eyes go wide. “Kenzie,” she shouts. “Kenzie, there's a Lochlan MacTavish to see you.”

A few moments later, Kenzie appears, also with a horrible case of bed head. “What did you say?”

“Lochlan MacTavish is here to see you.”

Kenzie comes to the door as the female steps aside. “Oh shit,” Kenzie says. “Why are you here this time of the morning?”

“It's almost noon. I need to talk to you. May I come in?”

“Yeah, sure, come in.” She looks around at the messy place and takes papers off the chair. “You can sit here. Would you like coffee?”

If she's offering me hospitality, this might not be as bad as I fear. “Aye, please.”

The two women stand in front of me, staring. The female pulls on Kenzie's sleeve. Kenzie glances at her. “Oh, right. Lochlan, this is my roommate, Pru.”

Pru is staring at me, but I nod and mumble, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pru, could you start the coffee while I change? I don't want to talk to Lochlan in my pajamas.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Give me a few minutes while I change,” she says to me.

Kenzie leaves for her bedroom, but her roommate is still gaping at me.

“What would you like in your coffee?” Pru asks.

“One sugar and milk if you have it. I've met you before, haven't I?”

“I was with the Crimson Beaches club. They had a private tasting at MacTavish Cellars a few months back. I'm afraid we weren't very good guests that day,” she says and moves off to the kitchen.

“You women were pretty lively, but in the end, I think everyone enjoyed themselves, including our tasting room associates.”

She smiles, spooning grounds into the coffeemaker. “I'll admit we had fun.”

I hear water coming from the bedroom and assume Kenzie is taking her shower. A few minutes later, the coffee is ready. Pru puts out three mugs, but pours liquid into two cups.

“I won't make Kenzie's coffee; she's particular about how she makes it,” she says, stirring milk and sugar, the spoon clinking as it hits the inside of each cup as she prepares it. Picking up both mugs, Pru hands me one. She watches as I take a sip. “Is it okay?” she asks.

I nod. “It's perfect, thank you.”

She sits across from me, then takes a sip from her mug. “I hear you know why Kenzie took a job at MacTavish Cellars.”

“Aye, I do.”

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