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“You’re thinking a day in the hills will be easier than a day out on the firth, and I agree with you.”
I breathed out a sigh. Maybe I wasn’t mooning over Duncan so obviously that Bea had found me out.
“I don’t mind canoeing,” she went on. “It’s easy enough and only a simpleton could run into trouble—oh, not you, dear.”
She patted me on the arm.No offense, dear, but you’re an idiot.
“But kayaking is tricky business. Rupert and I tried a few years ago, but we had a poor outing.”
“I fell out just climbing into mine.” Rupert didn’t seem distressed by this announcement.
“Have you kayaked before?” Bea asked me.
“I have, but only on a lake. I’m not sure how firths compare.”
She leaned toward me, ready to share the inside scoop. “Take the wind on Loch Ness and double it. And today’s not the clearest of skies for a trip on the firth.”
The morning had been pleasant, but between the winds and the rough skies rolling in, I couldn’t predict how the afternoon would play out. It could be sunny and warm, or we could be caught in a downpour. Apparently, unexpected heat waves sometimes rolled in, too, but I wouldn’t count on being that lucky.
“They’ll do fine,” Lewis said. “Arnav knows to bring them in if the waves get to choppy.”
“Has he been working for your company very long?” I asked.
“Three years now. We hired him right out of university.”
Arnav was only twenty-five? No wonder he had so much youthful enthusiasm—he was still a youth.
“I’ve been here eight years now, myself. I’ve led all the tours several times over. I could probably climb Macdui in my sleep.” He winced as though he didn’t like his words. “Not to boast, of course.”
“This can’t be your only source of income,” Bea said.
Now I winced on his behalf. What would it be like to have immunity from embarrassment? Was that a package deal that came with being an older woman? Between Bea doling out critical commentary and my mother freely discussing her love life with my father after sixty-five, verbal filters seemed to fade with age. Something to look forward to, I supposed.
“I also teach history part-time,” he said.
That explained all of the tragic little side-bar stories he’d told on our hikes.
“I’d like to get a full-time position, but that hasn’t panned out yet. Hopefully it will soon, as my wife is expecting and I’d prefer to stay closer to home.”
Bea, Rupert, and I offered a chorus of congratulations which he accepted in his modest style.
“It’s so nice for women these days that so many husbands want to hang about and help with the children.” Bea’s disapproving tone somewhat diminished her praise. “Rupert here hardly changed a nappy, did you, dear?”
“Not a one.”
I told myself it’d been a different time for them, but it sounded like classic weaponized incompetence to me.
The houses and cottages grew more sparse, and views of the countryside took over, a patchwork of fields and hedgerows spreading out on either side. The country lane was just the sort of path Elizabeth Bennett might have strolled down had she been a Scottish Highland lass instead of an English lady.
Bea walked next to me, pink-cheeked and eyes shining. “It’s nice for Lewis, isn’t it?” She spoke as though he weren’t five feet away and able to hear her every word. “About his wife and child?”
Lewis steadfastly looked straight ahead. He’d obviously had some practice at ignoring clients’ conversations.
“It is nice.” I knew she would accept nothing else.
“I only wonder that you don’t want the same things for yourself. Some women don’t, and I can respect that, but you seem like the type who would.”
I doubted Bea respected the choice to opt out of marriage and family—not that I had made those choices. I debated digging into her assumptions about me, but I chose the high road.
