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But it wasn’t really that, even.
She was aware of Ben as a man. Not just as a boss, or a friend, showing her around the village. She didn’t know him that well, yet, but there was a chemistry between them that she could feel, like a kind of cloud of sweetness that she wanted to wrap around her. When he’d touched her cheek just then, she’d wanted to melt into the ground.
He was an unusual man: seemingly not afraid of letting her take the lead, or her being a strong woman with definite opinions. In fact, between the two of them, Ben was the gentler one, being the one who enjoyed roaming the Scottish hills as a boy, collecting herbs. He was shy; he didn’t like the idea of taking people on a tour of the hills, even if it was to talk about his favourite subject. Liz was the one who didn’t think twice about standing up in front of hundreds of people to make presentations, like she’d done so many times in her career. Liz was the one that had always been driven to success.
There was something deeply attractive to Liz about a man who told her that she was nevertoo much. And that knowledge, that she didn’t have to dim her light or try to be less than she was around Ben, was somehow intoxicating.
She had the compelling urge to reach up and wrap her arms around Ben’s neck, and kiss him.Come on,she thought.You were just semi-appalled that Grenville kissed you on both cheeks, and that was more or less acceptable as a greeting.
Snogging your boss in the street without warning would definitely be inappropriate.
‘Do you want to go in?’ Ben murmured, inclining his head at the shop door they had stopped in front of. ‘I’m at your disposal for as long as you want me. As a tour guide,’ he added, his voice still low. There was something delicious in being the one chosen for Ben’s quiet, intimate tone of voice that made Liz shiver a little.
Liz didn’t know how to answer that.Yes. I want you at my disposal,she thought.Whatever that means, or could mean.Instead, she cleared her throat.
‘Let’s continue the tour,’ she said, and pushed the door open.
THIRTEEN
‘Liz Parsons, I presume?’ The sprightly, elderly woman stood up to welcome Liz as she walked into the day room at the care home. In fact, as Liz walked in, she realised that the room was a large conservatory, with a glass roof and plenty of hanging plants. Tasteful rattan furniture was arranged in groups here and there, with easy chairs dotted around. In the corner, a coffee machine sat next to a tray of muffins and other pastries.
‘Gretchen?’ Liz walked over to the woman’s table.
‘The very same.’ Gretchen Ross held out her hand and shook Liz’s firmly. ‘Lovely to meet you at last. Thanks for making the trip out here to see an old lady.’
Gretchen was dressed in an elegant plain green kaftan-like dress and matching long wrap, with her silver hair up in a loose bun. She wore glasses halfway down her nose and had been reading a novel, which she turned face-downward on the table when Liz arrived. Despite her age, she had good skin and bright, intelligent eyes.
‘A pleasure. It was a lovely drive.’ Liz sat down at the table, putting her handbag on the chair next to her.
‘Yes, it’s not a bad spot.’ Gretchen waved at the coffee machine. ‘Do help yourself, dear. It’s all free.’
‘Oh. Can I get you something while I’m up?’ Liz did feel a little peckish: she’d only had a cup of tea before leaving the cottage that morning.
‘I’ll have a flat white and a muffin, dear. Thank you,’ Gretchen requested, yawning. Liz, walking to the snack station, glanced back at Gretchen and saw that she was holding court at her table with two elderly men, one a shorter fellow with a bow tie and a checked jumper, and one taller with glasses and a more cautious expression. She smiled to herself. Clearly, even if you were in a care home, the old boy-meets-girl magic could still happen.
Liz came back to the table with the drinks and cakes, and Gretchen said goodbye to the two gentlemen like a benevolent monarch.
‘Sorry about that. Bridge tournament coming up, you see.’ Gretchen sighed. ‘It all gets very involved. Still, it keeps us off the streets.’ She chuckled drily at her own joke. ‘So, Liz. How’re you finding the cottage? All okay? I hope you’re warm enough. Zelda, the girl before you, did persuade the Laird to come and install central heating, not before time. The controls are a bit twiddly, but an intelligent woman like you shouldn’t have a problem working it all out.’
‘Oh, it’s lovely, thank you. And I haven’t used the heating much yet. It’s a bit chilly in the evenings, but not much. I’ve just put a cardigan on, or got into bed early.’
‘Wonderful. Well, mind you use it, if you need it.’ Gretchen nodded. ‘So, tell me about yourself. I know you’re working up at the distillery. How’s that been?’
‘Good, I think. It’s early days, and there’s a lot of work to be done. But I think I can make a difference.’ Liz started talking about her job and what she’d done before, explaining what she did as a Sales Director. Gretchen listened carefully, asking insightful questions. When Liz mentioned the fact she had often worked in male-dominated environments, Gretchen nodded sympathetically.
‘Ah, yes. Publishing was much the same, once upon a time. Of course, now, it’s largely female dominated, but it’s still very male up at the top. Glass ceiling, as they say,’ she sighed. ‘I made some inroads, as did some other women I worked with. But even in the 80s and 90s, when feminism was all the rage, you were expected to be the Publisher’s secretary rather than the Publisher. Of course, I ignored that,’ she chuckled. ‘In fact, I insisted on having a young, gay male secretary when I finally became a Publisher. Andrew, his name was. Lovely looking boy, too.’
‘Wow. I’m impressed.’ Liz thought that she wouldn’t mind turning into someone like Gretchen, one day.
‘Ha. Thank you, dear. It was all above board, of course. We were great friends and still are. I just loved seeing the look on those stuffy old dinosaur’s faces when they had to make an appointment with Andrew to see me. I used to peer through the crack in the door from my office into Andrew’s office, outside.’ She giggled conspiratorially.
‘Gretchen, I feel like you have a lot of stories to tell. And I want to hear all of them,’ Liz told her with a laugh.
‘Well, make sure you come and see me again, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. But we were talking about you, dear. You must have struggled with sexism, over the years. Successful women always have to.’
‘Yeah. I mean, things have definitely improved. But the drinks industry is still a bit of a boys’ club. That’s why it’s nice to be at Loch Cameron, if I’m honest. It’s still all men. But at least there’s less of them,’ she laughed. ‘And, Ben seems like a good guy. He’s not threatened by me, which is refreshing.’
‘Ah, Ben Douglas. Yes. Interesting young man.’ Gretchen nibbled her muffin. ‘His father was a tyrant. He kept the distillery afloat in some difficult years, but he was never a loving father. Everyone knew that.’
