Page 64 of A Scottish Lighthouse Escape

Chapter Twenty-Two

Reece let out a disbelieving gasp into my ear when I rang him.

‘Are you joking? But how the hell is that supposed to work? Mitch isn’t an artist as well, is he?’

‘Don’t worry,’ I assured him down the line, trying to sound far more convinced than I felt. ‘Mitch has promised me that he’ll tell that Mangan woman the truth on opening night. By then, it’ll be too late for her to do anything about it.’

Mitch sat close by in one of the armchairs, all long legs and dark hair. He must have sensed I was looking at him because he glanced up at me from his phone.

I averted my eyes.

‘So, Mitch led that woman to believe he painted your grandma’s pictures?’

‘No. Mitch said Ruth Mangan jumped to the wrong conclusion.’

‘She did,’ interjected Mitch, overhearing both sides of the conversation. ‘She just assumed the artist was me. I definitely didn’t lead her to believe that.’

Reece let out an awkward noise. ‘And you’re happy about this, Rosie? You’ve got no qualms about it?’

‘I wouldn’t say I’m happy about it,’ I confessed. ‘But desperate times call for desperate measures, and for whatever weird reason, this Ruth Mangan rejected Grandma’s art when she found out she had painted them.’

I wasn’t prepared to let this go. I had to find out why.

‘I know you think I’m jumping to conclusions, Reece, but Ruth Mangan has something against my grandma. I’m certain of it. I don’t know what that is yet, but I’m determined to find out.’

Reece still didn’t sound convinced.

More thoughts about Ruth Mangan pushed themselves to the front of my mind. ‘Oh, and guess what date the exhibition is going to be on? Another artist cancelled for personal reasons, so the slot was empty.’

‘Go on, tell me.’

I paused for dramatic effect. Would Reece remember the date of my grandma’s birthday? ‘The thirteenth of December.’

Reece let out a cross between a laugh and a gasp. ‘You’re joking?! Tilda’s birthday.’

He did remember. I shouldn’t have doubted him.

‘Well, in that case, I think we have no option but to proceed. It seems like fate is on our side.’

Mitch jerked his head up. ‘Be careful though, Rosie, with regard to digging around Ruth Mangan. You don’t want to mess this up.’

‘I’m not going to mess anything up.’ I was indignant. ‘I’ll be discreet.’

Mitch waggled a brow.

‘I promise,’ I protested.

‘Mitch is right,’ warned Reece into my ear. ‘Just be careful.’ He fell quiet for a few moments. ‘I don’t have anything to rush back to Edinburgh for. In fact, I’ve already checked and this place where I’m staying doesn’t have any more guests booked in until 6 January.’

A rush of relief came over me. Christmas was looming ever closer and I wasn’t relishing the prospect of spending it alone up here in Rowan Bay. I knew if I called Mia or Lola, they would be up here in no time with festive hampers, pampering gifts, bottles of Moët and an assortment of expensive advent beauty calendars.

But I realised I didn’t want that. I wanted to be here with Bronte.

And even though Reece and my grandma had never worked out, I liked the older man. He was repentant, honest and still carried a torch for Tilda, even after all these years. ‘So, you’re planning on hanging around?’ I asked him.

‘If you have no objections.’

‘Don’t be silly. Of course not. It will be lovely to have you here.’