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“Better after a stiff drink?” Duncan said.
“Better avoided altogether?” Spencer offered.
“Unexpected,” she said briskly.
Unexpectedhad been the theme of the trip. For liking plans and lists, I had to admit, the surprises hadn’t been all bad. Case in point: the man across the table from me. He went right on looking at me in a way that made my stomach tumble. Anyway, I hoped it was because of him, and not the blood and entrails I’d just eaten.
“Well, I’m still not trying it.” Harlow pushed around the different meats on her plate with her fork, her face scrunched up as though she’d been offered something scraped off a shoe instead of something scraped out of a sheep.
“Cavemen ate meat,” I pointed out.
“Not the entrails.”
Spencer laughed. “You think primitive peoples didn’t eat entrails, brains, and organs? I’m pretty sure cavemen weren’t as choosy as that.”
Harlow glared at him. “It’s mixed with oats, and I can’t eat that, either. It’s not healthy.”
The edible portion of her plate consisted of fruit, vegetables, and eggs, but even that seemed a bit of a stretch. Didn’t most fruits and vegetables require cultivation beyond cavemen’s abilities? Hard to imagine cavemen carefully tending their tomato starts in the Neolithic.
“I saw a documentary about this. Most cavemen died from dehydration caused by diarrhea. If you want to call that healthy…” He shrugged and went back to eating his breakfast.
I couldn’t tell if Spencer’s comments on death by dehydration meant he was feeling better or worse.
Spots of color appeared on Harlow’s cheeks and her eyes narrowed like she wished she could set him on fire. “I’m going to finish getting ready. Excuse me.”
She stood and left the table.
Carlos shot him a look. “Well done. You must be a delight at parties.”
“What?” Spencer didn’t have an ounce of apology in him. “I’m not the one trying to hook up with her. Fad diets are all scams anyway.”
“I quite agree,” Rupert said. “People these days with all their no-fat, no-carbohydrate oddities.”
He blinked hard and shuddered, apparently realizing he’d just insulted his own wife’s dietary oddities.
“Although,” he said slowly, “sometimes there is merit to such things.”
Bea pursed her lips and set her napkin on her plate. “I think I should get ready, too.” She pushed away from the table in the same way a cruise ship gets underway—slowly and with a great deal of drama.
Carlos turned to Rupert. “Forty years of bliss, huh?”
Rupert stood from the table and patted the younger man on the shoulder. “When you find the right one, you learn to overlook the little things.”
I felt he’d taken that adage too far, but I liked the sentiment anyway.
* * *
The Old Man of Storr loomed magnificent and mysterious on the hillside, making me completely forget my hangover.
Okay, I hadn’t forgotten it at all, what with my head still pounding and my limbs aching as though I was coming down with something. But the sight out my mini-bus window dimmed my post-drunken misery to tolerable levels.
I’d caught glimpses of the Storr in the last two days, but the closer we got, the more I buzzed with excitement. I left the coach ready to sprint up the path to reach it.
I didnotsprint, just to be clear.
The first section of trail formed an easy footpath that led through green, windswept grasses. The morning was mild, with heavy clouds streaking across the sky. The air smelled crisp and and fresh, and everything around us seemed to say “You are in Scotland.”
I couldn’t stop grinning at everything. The dirt path? Glorious. Rocks and stones? Delightful. Even Bea’s pinched expression looked good up here.
