Scotland? Now that was unexpected. I didn’t know jack-all about Scotland outside of what a bad impersonation sounded like and the vague idea that sheep’s stomach was considered a delicacy. It would be the furthest thing from my family’s mind when they discovered I was gone.
Tapping on the link, I saw a list of available dates, and my stomach flip-flopped when I saw tomorrow’s date on the list. Rising from my seat, I made for my room. It wouldn’t hurt to think about what I would pack on my midnight run from responsibility.
The site had a list of available apprenticeships, and I felt my breath catch when I saw baking on the list. A bakeshop by the name of Me, Myself, and Pie would take on apprentices for a month to 6 months, experience unnecessary but appreciated. The contact information for the shop’s owner blinked tantalizingly in front of me.
Could I call now? It was just past one am my time...which a quick search informed me meant it was after seven am Scotland time.
Bakers rose early, so surely now was as fitting a time as any, wasn’t it? With shaking fingers I dialed the number and waited. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants as I paced.
Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this...Inez hadn’t really meant what she’d said...I should just—
“‘Lo?” a cheery voice answered.
“Hi!” I winced at my near-screech. “I mean, ah, good morning. Is this…” I jerked my phone away to look at the name I had already forgotten in my haste to call. “Er...Agnes Smith?”
“The one and only. And who might this be?”
“Del,” I said. “Delilah Solis. I found your information on a travel site advertisement…”
“Ah, the apprenticeship,” the woman trilled with what I hoped was pleasure. “Ye’ll be comin’ along then to bake with us, will ya?”
I blinked at the question. It couldn’t be this easy. She didn’t even know my name. Was she offering me the apprenticeship?
“Yes. Yes, I am,” I answered, making sure I sounded confident. My father had taught me to never give half measures or answer a question with a question.
She hummed. “When can ye be here, lass?”
I stopped pacing, eyes falling on the open drawers I had just been rummaging through. “Is tomorrow too soon?”
If I booked my ticket now I could be there in a day. A thrill ran through me at the prospect of standing on Scottish soil in twenty-four hours. I wouldn’t be showing a property or scrambling to clean up after my siblings. I would be living my full, grown-ass, non-dependable life.
The thought of my father’s disappointed face flitted through my mind’s eye, but I pushed it away. For seven years I had been a dutiful daughter. He would understand this. He had to. I’d given everything to help him build his dream, and now he had to let me go to live mine. He would understand why I’d gone—why I’d needed to go looking for a place to wear the red dress he’d given me.
If I stayed, I’d never have a reason to put it on.
“Tha’s perfect,” Agnes declared with what I guessed was a smack of her fist against a table. “You’ll be here just in time for the Hogmanay festivities! How cheery and cozy it’ll be. Plus, we need all the hands we can get for these desserts and cakes people ‘ave ordered for their celebrations.”
“Hogmanay?” I asked not sure I’d heard Agnes right.
“The New Year, dear. It’s a Scottish tradition. Ye’ll love it.”
The New Year. There was that reminder again. I hadn’t even decided what I would do to ring it in. It had been years since I’d gone to a party. I usually just watched the ball drop with my father and then went to bed. What would I even do at parties where I was free to do as I pleased?
I pursed my lips. I didn’t know. I’d completed forgotten. A byproduct of working seven days a week without a moment for myself. I swallowed hard, ignoring the chill that went through me at the realization I’d forgotten New Year ...or Hogmanay as I was quickly coming to understand was the Scottish equivalent was only a week away.
Once Agnes had declared the apprenticeship mine, she took down my information and gave me instructions for arriving in Edinburgh. It was comforting to not have to think. To let someone else do the planning.
The woman even bought a ticket and emailed it to me while taking down my contact information. The arrival of the flight confirmation in my inbox made it all real. She’d even sprung for first class. I spluttered at seeing the ticket, imagining what it must have cost Agnes, but she only sighed at me.
“Dinna fash yerself, lass. The Scots take care of guests. Ye’ll see.” The warm tone in her voice made my heart constrict. Someone taking care...of me? Unheard of, but so welcome. Already she was seeing to my comfort in ways my own family had forgotten to do.
What if this was what my time in Scotland would be like? A month of kindness? Of being thought of? Someone helping me? Valuing my efforts?
That settled it.
I was going to Scotland in a few hours’ time and nothing would stop me.
Happy fucking New Year to me.
