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“Have you always been close?”
Posy’s earliest memory was being rocked to sleep by Suzanne. She remembered the warmth, the tightness of her arms, the feeling of comfort and security. “Yes.”
“And you’re going to take over the café from her one day?”
“That’s the plan.”
He studied her thoughtfully. “And you’re okay with that? You’ve never been tempted to travel? Do something different?”
It was as if he’d pressed down on a tender wound.
Should she admit that, yes, she’d been tempted? Should she admit it was something she thought about a lot at night and then dismissed during the day when she worked alongside her mother, who had been there for her through thick and thin? How could she ever explain the aching sense of responsibility she felt? It was an anchor, keeping her trapped in the same place. She was grateful for that anchor, but sometimes she wanted to tear it loose and set sail. There were big, beautiful mountains out there just waiting for her. A whole world of adventure.
During the day, she smiled at customers, cooked and made a perfect cappuccino, but at night in the privacy of her loft, she studied difficult peaks, ice and rock walls, planned routes, watched endless videos on the internet, until she felt as if she’d climbed those challenging faces herself.
“This is my home. My family is here and my job is here. Goodbye, Luke, and thanks for today.” Thanks for stirring up thoughts I didn’t want to have. “Rick will give you a ride back to Glensay Lodge.” She started the engine. “Don’t you have words to write?”
“Yes, but generally I need thawed hands for that.”
“I put fresh logs in the barn this morning before I left for the training session. I presume you know how to light a fire?” It wasn’t a serious question. Luke Whittaker had written a book on wilderness survival, and even had she not had that volume on her bookcase, she would have known he was the sort of man who could survive in the harshest of conditions, the sort of man who could produce a spark from two sticks before you could say flame.
“You could come and light my fire for me.”
“That is the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard. I hope you’re better at lighting fires than you are at picking up women or you’re about to suffer from a nasty case of frostbite.”
She put her foot to the floor and the last thing she saw before she drove away was the smile on his face.
Winter days in the Scottish Highlands were often gray and gloomy, but today was a perfect blue-sky day. The landscape was shrouded in white, smooth and undisturbed, like icing on a Christmas cake. The surface caught the sun and sparkled like a million crystals.
Why would she even think of leaving this beautiful place, filled with people who loved and cared about her? Being here wasn’t a sacrifice, it was a choice. She’d been four years old when Suzanne and Stewart had packed up their lives and moved from their home in Washington State to Scotland to be close to Stewart’s family.
Unlike her sisters, Posy had no memory of it.
She drove past the Parish Church and waved to Celia Monroe, who was emerging from an appointment with the doctor.
On impulse, she screeched to a halt outside the small library and grabbed the bag from the back seat.
This was a job she’d been putting off for weeks.
“I’m going to be told off like a six-year-old,” she confessed, and Bonnie wagged her tail in sympathy.
Bracing herself, Posy strode into the library. It had been threatened with closure many times, but the locals had defended it as fiercely as a clan defending their lands.
The woman behind the desk clucked her disapproval. “You have a nerve showing up here, Posy McBride. Your books are more than a month overdue.”
Posy leaned across and kissed her. “I was stuck up a mountain, saving lives, Mrs. Dannon.”
“Oh, go on with you. You were the same with your homework. Always late, and always an excuse.” Eugenia Dannon had been her English teacher at school and she’d despaired of Posy, who had spent her days gazing out of the window at the mountains.
“I probably owe you a lot of money in fines.”
The woman waved her away. “If I fined you every time your books were late, you’d be bankrupt.”
“I love you, Mrs. Dannon, and I know that deep down you love me.”
“Aye, more fool me. Now run along and help your mother.”
Run along? Did people actually still say that kind of thing?
