Chapter Eighteen
Two days had passed since the town hall meeting, and Pine Hollow had only grown colder, the kind of cold that made every breath taste like frost. I’d spent the better part of the afternoon visiting one of the estate’s rental properties a few miles out. An elderly couple who insisted I stay for tea while they told me winter stories of the Highlands and how they’d known my grandfather “before the city swallowed him up.”
They meant it kindly and I wasn’t sure why it stung.
By the time I made it back into the main part of town, the sky had dimmed to that deep blue twilight where streetlamps began to glow. My boots crunched over the snow-packed pavement as I crossed the square toward the hotel.
And still… no sign of Brianna. Not that I’d gone looking, well not deliberately, anyway. But I hadn’t taken the long route through the bakery street twice today without reason.
Grief kept a person quieter than usual. I knew that well enough. My grandfather’s loss still surprised me in sharp, unexpected moments. I didn’t push. I didn’t knock on her flat door early in the morning. I didn’t go out of my way to“accidentally” bump into her. Even if some stubborn part of me wanted to.
As I reached the hotel steps, a trio of familiar voices cut through the quiet.
“Well, look what the snow dragged in!”
I closed my eyes briefly. The knitting club. Mrs. Lennox, Mrs. McAvoy, and Mrs. Douglas bustled toward me like a small army wrapped in tartan scarves and determination. Their cheeks were rosy, their bags full of half-finished projects, and their expressions nothing short of predatory.
“Oh good,” Mrs. Lennox said, looping an arm through mine before I could escape. “We caught him before he vanished inside.”
Mrs. McAvoy nodded briskly. “We have business.”
“What can I help you with ladies?” I said softly.
Mrs. Douglas planted herself in front of me, chin lifted. “You’re coming to the Christmas Ball.”
I blinked. “I—pardon? Am I?”
“Aye, no excuses,” she said firmly. “Your grandfather never missed it, and neither should you.”
“He helped decorate the hall every year when he visited,” Mrs. Lennox added proudly. “Ach, he was terrible at hanging garlands, but he tried.”
That lodged somewhere deep in my chest.
Mrs. McAvoy leaned in. “And you should personally invite Brianna.”
The words were delivered with the subtlety of a brick.
My heart jolted. “I–what makes you think–?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mrs. Douglas sighed, patting my arm. “We saw how you looked at her.”
Mrs. Lennox elbowed her. “And how she looked atyouat the meeting.”
“She didn’t look at me at all,” I said before I could stop myself.
All three women exchanged knowing looks.
“Exactly,” Mrs. McAvoy said. “That girl only avoids what matters.”
My throat tightened. “She’s… dealing with a difficult week.”
“Aye,” Mrs. Douglas said gently. “And that’s exactly why she shouldn’t face it alone.”
I swallowed. “I don’t want to be another weight on her shoulders.”
“You won't be,” Mrs. Lennox insisted. “You’ll be company. A distraction. A reason to smile. And she deserves that.”
I tried to find a reasonable argument and I failed miserably.
