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Chapter 2
We arrived at our destination just after eight. I had booked us into a lovely old hotel adjacent to the train station, which was a good thing, because I was fading fast. Hayley and Willow looked as bad as I felt.
I ushered them inside, and we dumped all our bags in a small sitting area. Check-in took no time at all. The clerk was friendly and efficient. Soon, we were crammed into the tiny elevator heading upward, though the trip was agonizingly slow.
Our room consisted of two single beds and barely enough space for a rollaway cot. Hayley volunteered for the cot immediately. That might have been a self-sacrificing offer on her part. More likely, she knew nothing would keep her from conking out. It was easy to see that all three of us were hitting bottom. For the past few weeks we’d been buoyed by excitement and adrenaline. Now we were too tired to care about Outlander or Scotland or even food.
My two roomies clearly agreed with me, though none of us said a word as we got ready for bed. I was the one to turn out the lights. The glow from a streetlight outside our window illuminated the room even with the drapes closed. “I’m glad you both came with me,” I said. I wish I could make them see how momentous this was, how utterly wonderful.
“Me, too,” Hayley said, yawning and punching her thin pillow into a more comfortable contour.
Willow groaned aloud. “I’m sorry I was in a bad mood earlier. I really am excited. But are we absolutely sure we want to split up?”
There was the hard question. We had fleshed out this idea as a team. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one experiencing doubts.
Hayley spoke up before I could say anything. “We have to,” she said firmly. “If we’re really going to be on the lookout for our own Scottish heroes, we need to be independent. A cluster of three women isn’t likely to attract the attention of an available Scotsman.”
I laughed out loud in spite of my fatigue. “Unless he’s into ménage à trois.”
Hayley gave me a schoolmarm look. With her face washed clean and her jammies on, she looked almost like a teenager. “Your math skills suck,” she said. “And I don’t know the French word for four. Go to sleep. We don’t have to say goodbye yet.”
* * * *
The next morning, I clung desperately to my positive attitude. I’d wanted so badly for everything to be perfect for Hayley and Willow. I traveled frequently, but this was the first big trip either of them had ever made. Why did the weather have to be so depressingly… Scottish?
I didn’t mind rainy days as a rule. There was something soothing about a gentle, steady downpour. But not now. It didn’t seem fair to my travel companions or to the Highlands. Not when first impressions were so important. I wanted my friends to have the time of their lives. So far, the only thing to see was a blanket of grey mist covering the city.
Over breakfast, I tried to keep the conversation going. We were a quiet bunch. I sensed that anticipation had taken a backseat to reluctance and maybe even dread. Hayley looked downright scared. Willow was harder to read.
Though I had nothing to feel guilty about, I squirmed inwardly. Should I be the one to rewrite our game plan? After all, I’d initiated the trip. Here in the confines of the hotel, we were safe. And together. What had seemed like a lark back in the States suddenly felt astonishingly real.
A month was a heck of a long time. Did I dare send my two little chicks out into the world without me?
My agitation stole my appetite, though I stuffed down bacon and eggs. One thing I had learned over the years while traveling in remote sections of the world was to eat when the chance arose. You never knew when the next meal would come around.
Hayley, God love her, insisted on trying the haggis. Willow pretended to gag theatrically. I smiled. I knew that sheep organs mixed with oatmeal weren’t my cup of tea. And speaking of tea…I lifted a hand and waved for the server. After requesting a fresh pot of hot water, I smeared raspberry marmalade on toast and ate it along with my final cup of Earl Grey.
When we had finished our meal, I reached into my big leather tote and held out three small tissue-wrapped objects. “Pick one,” I said. The roomy, turquoise Kate Spade bag had been a gift from my grandma on my twenty-first birthday. Grammy would have approved of this trip.
Willow and Hayley chose at the same moment. With a nod from me, they unwrapped the gifts. Inside each was a small oval box, perhaps two or three inches across and an inch deep. The lid was inscribed with Celtic symbols. I really hoped they liked them.
“It’s beautiful,” Hayley said.
Willow stared at hers. “This is an antique, Mac. Must have been wickedly expensive.”
I waved a hand. “They’re snuffboxes. I found them on eBay. Sterling silver and ram’s horn. Aren’t they cool? Even women dipped tobacco back in the day.”
Hayley ran a finger over the engraving on hers. “I love it. But I know you don’t expect me to take up dipping.”
“Of course not. These are for us to collect mementos. Anything that touches our souls or stirs our imaginations. Little bits and pieces to remind us of our trip, so that in the weeks and months to come, we can open the boxes and remember Scotland.”
“It’s a lovely idea,” Hayley said.
Willow nodded. “Thanks, McKenzie. I have no idea what I’ll find, but I’ll keep my eyes open.”
Their genuine pleasure reassured me. I might have fudged a bit when Willow protested. The boxes had been pricey. After all, they were very old and in mint condition. I knew the moment I saw them they were the perfect gift for the two friends who had given me so much.
A short time later, we stood out on the walk, huddled beneath an overhang. I had ordered a cab to take me to the car rental place. Soon I would be on my way to the Isle of Skye.
