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At least, I didn’t start an argument, which was as high of a road as I could manage.
“I do want the same things.” I probably sounded a little testy, but she had to know she was prying. “I just haven’t found the right man to have those things with.”
“Unlucky in love?”
I’m a single thirty-eight-year-old woman. You do the math.“A bit.”
“The right man will come around. You just need to broaden your horizons. You can’t have such high standards that no man can ever attain them, you know.”
Ah, yes. The good oldlower your standardsspeech.
“I don’t think expecting a man to be faithful, to make me feel alive, and to make me laugh is too much to ask.” I wasn’t sure why I chose to admit that to Bea, of all people. I blamed it on the fresh mountain air—too much oxygen in the brain or something.
She flashed a beady eye. “That’s all you want, is it?”
Additions to my description of Mr. Right flashed through my mind. Confidence, a stable career, a life beyond me that still included me, and the ability to kiss me until I forgot my own name were first in line, but I didn’t say them out loud. My hesitation gave her all the answer she needed.
“So you’re saying beggars can’t be choosers.”
“I’m saying you should be open to the unexpected. Just look at me.” She glanced over her shoulder at her husband. “Rupert and I met in university on a train back from Edinburgh to London. I expected a simple rail trip but wound up with the love of my life. We’ve been married forty years, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I wasn’t sure how to take Bea’s advice. In my world, being open to the unexpected usually meant accepting a guy’s all-consuming gaming addiction, not love at first sight. Did that even exist anymore? I wanted to believe in this fairy tale version of love, but my experiences hadn’t reflected it. Real love took years to build, if it ever developed at all.
Mostly, for me, it hadn’t.
Still, it was a romantic story. If I didn’t think too hard about Bea and Rupert being the principal characters.
“And you know dear, you only have so long,” she went on. “You’re not so young you can expect the men to keep calling forever.”
Therewas the critical Bea I’d come to expect.
Lewis led us up a short scramble to a hilltop that provided wide views looking down on Dingwall and the inlet beyond. I scanned the firth, hoping to see an indication of our group of kayakers, but the distance made everything too tiny.
I took a few pictures and then tucked the camera back in my bag and just stood there for a while, enjoying the view.
sixteen
We retracedour steps to Dingwall and the others returned to the lodge, but I wanted to explore the town. I found a nice stretch of road paved in cobblestones, but was disappointed to discover my hiking boots hardly made a sound on them. Few of the village’s stores were open so late in the afternoon, but I didn’t mind window shopping among the locals.
Nothing much caught my eye until I came to a small café with a sign advertising homemade pastries. Despite the delicious treats waiting back in the lodge, I bought a bag of “biscuits” fresh from the oven, lacy confections with a tangy sort of orange marmalade filling.
I ate three immediately.
I passed a butcher shop, and the sweet treats in my stomach turned sour. A cold case sat in the front window showing off fat little rolls of haggis and long black links of blood pudding and other assorted meats. Just looking at them made my insides churn. Was throwing out the organs really all that wasteful?
“That dip in the loch changed you if you’re tempted by this lot.”
I turned to find Duncan standing behind me. His cheeks and forehead glowed pink from the sun and the lines at the corners of his eyes stood out as though he’d been squinting all afternoon, but he only looked better for having been out in the elements. Rugged suited him.
“I’m just browsing,” I said with a smile. “Although isn’t there some sort of law that says all visitors must try haggis while in Scotland?”
“The Haggis Act of 1974, yes.”
None of the others from the kayak group were on the street—just Duncan. Had he set out to find me, or had it been chance? Fate. Whatever. “How was the firth?”
“Excellent. It’s a good day for it, and the water was as calm as could be expected.” He paused as though measuring his words. “I have a feeling you’re going to regret not joining us, though.”
“Why? Did Carlos actually fall in?”
