AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We appreciate your exemplary manners, JL. Très gentil.” Mum regally inclines her head.
JL smirks. “I appreciate you inviting me into your home, Madame.”
“Call me Viktoria.” Her face exhibits an unholy glee that sends us into gales of laughter. They’ve had an ongoing tug-of-war over names since they met in Chicago last year.
Dad returns, plunking a bottle of Glenfiddich on the table. Mum has put down shot glasses for the adults. We pass the bottle.
“One of the brands started by the Grant clan.” Dad makes the pronouncement with pride. “Grants have been involved in the whisky trade for generations.”
JL surveys the faces round the table. “You Grants are certainly ubiquitous.”
“Of course. You’re on the hereditary lands of the clan. And unlike other families, there were no highland clearances here.” Dad bangs the table for emphasis.
Sean chances his arm. “May I have some whisky?”
Les tips a few drops in a glass, then sprinkles it into his son’s porridge. “A taste.” Another hefty dram goes into his own bowl.
Sean opens his mouth to protest, but the frowns on his parents’ faces makes him think twice. “Thanks, Dad,” he mumbles.
Les gives his son the evil eye. Turning to JL, he grumbles, “Kids!”
“They like to push the limits at that age,” says the man who has declared he will never be a parent. “I know I did.”
Buttering a piece of toast, Dad remarks offhandedly, “Have you heard the joke about the butter?” Mum flashes a Medusa-like gaze, but somehow, he doesn’t turn to stone. Instead, he raises his voice a bit. “I better not tell you; it might spread!”
The kids snigger.
“Yesterday, I accidentally swallowed some food coloring. The doctor says I’m okay, but I feel like I’ve dyed a little inside,” I follow up.
Sean, who is shaping up to be a chip off the old block, comes up with, “What did the late tomato say to the other tomatoes? Don’t worry, I’ll ketchup.”
“Good one,” Les congratulates his son.
“Diana picked a good one,” Brian chortles, pointing at Les.
Cress frowns. The jokes have been coming thick and fast. I lean over and kiss her as Mum comes in with a platter of cupcakes.
“The pièce de résistance,” she exclaims loudly, spearing my sister and sister-in-law with a look before they can protest. “A special treat.”
“So adorable, and realistic too. I love Highland Cows.” Cress clasps her hands over her mouth. We’re all laughing, except Ian. When I glance at him, my laid-back brother frowns.
“What’s up, man? Bad news?”
“No news,” he grouses, putting his mobile back in a pocket.
No one has noticed our exchange. They are all still focused on the cupcakes.
“Coos.” Diana makes the correction kindly. “Fresh from Cuckoo’s Nest Bakery in Edinburgh. Mrs. MacDonald picked them up for us while we were away.Although I assumed they were for dinner.”
Meggy tries to snatch one off the plate before it reaches the table, but Ian slaps her hand.
“You’re in for a treat, Cress. Cuckoo’s makes some of the finest baked goods in the country.” Dad’s already reaching for one of the delectable little cakes. He breaks it in half and feeds it to Bristol.
“Dad, you know cake isn’t good for him,” Meggy scolds.
“A little won’t hurt.” He puts another piece on the palm of his hand and holds it out to the eager dog.
“Waste of good food,” Meggy grumbles, and turns to Cress. “Whisky ganache center, sticky toffee pudding, topped off with a creamy vanilla buttercream to make the coo frosting.” Meggy’s eyes squeeze shut as she licks her lips.
