Page 34 of From Scotland with Love

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That next morning Lori sat with Gran in the garden, drinking tea and enjoying the gentle summer breeze. Gran had been equally excited about Lori’s chance of staying another two weeks; so much so in fact that she planned to have a dinner party to celebrate. Lori cringed at the idea; being the cause of yet another celebration, but Gran refused to listen to her objections.

“You’ll be here for the Highland games!” Gran clapped her hands together, laughing at Lori’s expression.

“Oh Gran, those games are so silly. Men showing off by throwing bits of tree around, while the women are expected to cheer? It’s primitive!” Lori groaned.

“I’ll have you know there’s history in Highland games, it’s your heritage!” Gran gave Lori a sharp eye.

“Even so, it’s a bit ridiculous!” Lori shook her head, the thought of sitting in a damp field watching the games - well, there were so many other interesting ways of catching a cold!

“How are things in New York?” Gran changed the subject with ease.

“I’m not sure, Frankie didn’t seem overly anxious to get me back there. I’m assuming things are going well enough.”

Her gran held her mug of coffee in both hands and glanced down at a stretched-out Bracken under her chair, making gentle snoring noises. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but -” Gran paused. “But, I always thought you would be a great designer yourself. Remember all those sewing projects you’d undertake? You made me a beautiful skirt once, which I still have.” Gran nodded at Bracken, who had tilted his head at the tone of her voice. “You have that skill, just like your mother did. You might think about using it more, perhaps.”

Lori looked down at the grass to see daisies had already started sprouting. She wondered if Gran still cut the grass herself, or whether she needed help with the garden nowadays. She was getting older after all, something Lori never really thought about, for various reasons. If she was honest, she hadn’t given her family too much serious thought during those years abroad. She had missed them however, and so blocking them out of her mind, probably more than most might have done, had given her the excuse not to act on her feelings. She gave a half-smile, and leaned over to squeeze Gran’s hand, unable to find what words to say. The days before the wedding had been hugely enjoyable, the hours spent at the sewing machine had felt like meditation, calming her with each stitch. But a dressmaker was not the most profitable way to make a living, even if she did have the talent for it like her mother. No, she would return to New York, save up some more money, and see if she could progress as far in the company as Frankie had implied she might. If she could manage to retire early, then she might consider a career change, but right now she knew she hadn’t spent all those years in retail to just throw it all away on a nice hobby.

Gran ushered Callum into the kitchen later that evening, after promptly answering Lori’s earlier invitation. Mary offered food and wine, fussing over him like a royal prince. Lori had noticed early on during her stay that whenever Gran saw Callum she lit up, admiring him proudly as if he was another member of the family. Lori rolled her eyes at the spectacle; she had planned to give Callum refreshments anyway, but Gran immediately started opening and closing cupboard doors, bringing out such a large number of delectable treats that Lori resigned herself to just sit and let her grandmother do what she needed to do. Wine was topped up and after Callum had worked his way through one bowl of pudding and cream, Lori noticed Gran had produced a fresh bottle of wine for the table, and was lighting a small cluster of candles on the oak sideboard. Thoughts of her cocktail night with Jean resurfaced, but she shook them off. One bottle between two was not the same as a cabinet of gin. Wait a minute... one bottle between two? Candles?

“Right, I’m off to bed!” Gran slowly stepped back from the table, as though admiring a work of art she had just finished.

“It’s only 8pm Gran?” Lori looked at the bright yellow kitchen clock above her, now definitively suspicious of her gran’s motives.

“Don’t I need my beauty sleep!” She called over her shoulder and left the room, Bracken shuffling behind her. Lori and Callum looked at each other for a few bewildering moments, then burst out laughing.

Callum scooped up another piece of gran’s bread and butter pudding from the dish in front of them. “Subtle!” he said with his mouth full.

Lori refilled his glass, shaking her head. “So, you got my text?” She gritted her teeth, hoping that all this treatment would merely encourage Callum to help her.

“Yes, so you want me to take you to my aunts? It’s quite a trek Lori!”

“Well I’m not expecting to walk there!” She rolled her eyes.

“Aye, but still. You know I do have work; I can’t just drop everything for you!” He looked at her intently. “What’s in it for me?”

Lori sat back speechless. What did he want from her? She felt her cheeks blush at the undertone to his question, and couldn’t stop her own inappropriate thoughts now surfacing.

Callum drummed his fingers on the table quietly. “Come on Lori, you think I don’t see what you’re up to. Buttering me up with all this” He gestured to the now almost empty plates of baking and wine glasses. “You are a bit conniving; I see that trait hasn’t left you entirely!” He laughed at her outraged look.

“That was Gran who gave you the special treatment!” Lori protested.

“Oh dear, throwing your gran under the bus, after everything she’s done for you!” He shook his head with mock disapproval. “Hey, I know you. Even if Mary hadn’t been here, you would’ve still buttered me up. You always try to get things your way.”

“That’s not true...” Lori muttered sulkily, pulling the plate of the pudding towards her, determined to eat the last piece herself.

Callum laughed heartily and thumped the table, groaning dramatically. “Oh here we go, you can be a petulant child sometimes Lori Robertson!” He shook his head, still laughing. “OK OK, anything but a moody Lori!”

“Hey!” Lori objected.

“If I come with you, I’d like to do something other than just follow you around the tweed mill.”

“Of course! You can do whatever you want once we get there!”

“No, I mean do something with you, not for you.” He sipped his wine, eyes fixed on hers.

“Like what?” Lori squinted at him in suspicion.