Page 7 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

“No. She changed the subject and started talking about something else. She didn’t make any comment about who was on the phone at all.” Dad shrugged. “At the time, I did think it was a bit odd, but then I forgot about it.”

Mum flicked a look at me. “She must have been in the middle of trying to sort all this out.”

After the last of the boxes had been transferred from the car and stacked in a corner of my parents’ hallway, Mum rustled up some cheese and pickle sandwiches for lunch, before Dad and I returned to Gran’s to empty her sitting-room cabinets of her “official” collection of tea sets.

Mum insisted on making a pot of tea on our return and the three of us sank gratefully down in their sitting room, cradling our cups and each digesting the bombshell my late gran had delivered.

I cast my eyes around the room, with its patio doors leading out onto their manicured garden with its assorted ceramic pots and clipped hedgerows. On the far wall was a smudgy, gorgeous watercolour of Briar Glen’s moody landscape of soaring hills. It was an idyllic scene but we were all in turmoil.

“But this is crazy!” I blurted. “I mean, I’ve already got a job.” Not one that I was enthusiastic about, but it was secure employment – or as secure as you could expect nowadays.

I glanced out to the hall, where Gran’s secret stash of tea sets and teapots seemed to be winking at me as they peeped out from under the bubble wrap. “I can’t just give up my job and start a business.”

Mum tutted in agreement. “I don’t know what she was thinking. I loved my mother so much, but I do wonder where she got her ideas from sometimes.” She twisted round on the sofa. “You don’t think she was having some sort of episode, do you? Or that she wasn’t sure about what she was doing?”

Dad glanced at Mum and then across at me. “Helena was more with it than the three of us combined. She was always a free spirit, or at least she tried to be. That father of yours didn’t exactly encourage her to be ambitious, did he?”

Mum considered what Dad had just said. “My father was so staid in his ways and because he was too scared to take a risk, he expected Mum to be the same too.” She cocked a cynical brow. “They were very different. I often wondered how they got together in the first place.” Mum peered down at the rumpled letters from Gran lying in her lap. “And I haven’t a clue what she meant about it being different times back then and that she had one regret.”

“Helena wanted you to do what she never did,” said Dad to me, dragging our attention back. “And whatever that might have been, it’s clear she wants you to take a chance and do something that you love.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again.

Mum shook her bobbed red hair. Her voice splintered with emotion. “Well, I think it’s selfish.” Her confused eyes clouded over with tears.

I shot up from the armchair and towards Mum, pulling her into my outstretched arms. I inhaled her dash of Coco Chanel.

Mum kept her head tilted into the crook of my neck. “I know your grandmother was often frustrated with her life with your grandfather, but she can’t foist her lost ambitions on you. It’s not fair.”

I tightened my grip around her. “Gran thought she was trying to help, Mum. I moaned about all my demanding wedding clients to her often enough.”

Mum dashed the back of her hand across her damp eyes. “I know in her own mind she must have thought she was doing what was right but still…” Her voice tailed off as the dappled afternoon sun spilt across their hessian rug.

Dad blinked at me. “So does that mean you aren’t even going to consider your gran’s idea?”

I rubbed at my forehead, guilt stealing over me. I didn’t want to let my gran down. That was the last thing I wanted to do. But what she was asking of me … well, it was ridiculous! I loved beautiful crockery every bit as much as she had, but turning that passion into a successful business – the idea was a ludicrous one! All the reasons why rolled through my mind. I had no retail experience. Briar Glen’s smaller businesses were already struggling to survive in the current economic climate. I had no idea how to pull together a business plan. The list of negatives grew larger and darker as I thought about them.

I shook my ponytail, dismissing the punches of guilt striking me in the chest. It had been a wonderful, loving and very generous idea of my grandmother’s and she would never know how much I appreciated what she had attempted to do for me. But it was impossible.

I forced my mouth into a determined, sad smile. “It’s a great notion, Dad, but Gran wasn’t thinking this through. It’s out of the question.”

Chapter Five

The next morning swung around too quickly, bringing with it the usual Monday joy of another working week.

I had expected me, Mum and Dad to gather up a few items of Gran’s that really meant something to each of us yesterday, not be confronted by a beautiful stash of crockery Harrods would envy and a shop to sell it in.

If I wasn’t going to open my own shop, what was I going to do with Grandma’s stash?

I had tried to come up with ideas – from selling the business and making a substantial donation to a couple of her favourite charities, to donating the crockery to the Glasgow History Museum.

I sat for a moment in the hotel staff car park, my fingers still clinging to the steering wheel of my rose-gold Skoda Citigo. Castle Marrian reared up in front of me, the April light glancing off its gleaming windows and turrets.

With Briar Glen spread out in all its Scottish, leafy glory, I could understand why it held such an attraction for weddings.

I gathered my bag from the back seat and straightened my knee-length navy skirt.

Guests were milling about in the glass and chrome reception area, resplendent with abstract art installations, and there were polite murmurs of conversation from the chocolate-and-cream flock wallpaper dining room, where a number of leisurely breakfasts were taking place.