On Monday I woke up bored. Everyone I knew had to work. I was tempted to go by and see what Magnus was doing, because he was new to the island after all. I could be a tour guide. But also, why? I had given them a ride; how creepy would that be?

But boredom won out. I decided to use the beach access closest to their new house to look for shark teeth. That way if I saw Magnus or Lady Mairead I could pretend to be 'just walking by.'

I took a baggie for collecting shark teeth and shells and parked my Prius on the shoulder of the road. I walked out on the beach and checked out the house.

It was different from the classic beach houses that used to line the shore here. Those had been built up on stilts in case of floodwater. With thin legs, wind-pummeled wood, and low slung roofs, they had seemed a part of the landscape. The stilts gave them lift, as if the wind could carry them if it wanted to, it just had to decide to.

This one was newer, different, huge. Built. Like it was daring the wind to try to carry it away, just try.

After Mom had unloaded her biggest house on them, we celebrated that night at dinner, with Mom and Dad congratulatory toasting and clinking their wineglasses. I found it troubling. There was nothing wrong with leasing a mansion to the rich foreigner, but there was something about Magnus that made me think he deserved better. His manners? Maybe it was because I'd never been involved in my mother's business deals before. I had heard her described as a shark, and I didn't believe the term to be unfair.

The beach was beautiful, warm, full sun, a bit cooler than last Thursday, by degrees. It was still a June summer in Florida of course, ninety-two degrees, instead of soaring over a hundred.

The sand was so pretty, white and glistening. The tide was heading low revealing bounteous beautiful unbroken shells. I crouched in the wet sand at the edge of the warm, gently lapping waves, searching, occasionally scooping — there! A shark tooth. Small, but perfect, and I had found it within the first three minutes. After the first one they would be easy to find, because my brain could focus.

I felt so happy to be home suddenly, in this beautiful place. Where better to walk and think through what went wrong? And my role in the whole debacle? I hadn't done that much.

Instead I had regressed into my past self: daughter, party girl, bestie. I supposed that was common, after a world-wide embarrassment, regressing. What did celebrities do — check into rehab? Go to a spa? Or in the case of minor celebrities, like me, less famous, more viral, especially now I had bared my teeth and drunkenly slashed across my fiancé's face on live video — go to their parents's beach town and hide away.

I approached the boardwalk entrance of Magnus's house. It didn't look like anyone was — wait, the entire front of the house was glass and someone was sitting in the top left window.

This was awkward.

Could I make myself look casual and not weird at all? I stepped on the stairs, then took my foot back to the sand, changing my mind. But Magnus turned and peered through the window.

I was seen.

He gestured for me to come to the house, then met me at the sliding door, but didn't open it. He pushed awkwardly, a little desperately, at the handle, then shrugged.

I peered in through the glass for the lock. Every one of these door handles was different, but this one was basic. I mimed pushing the lever up. Then pointed at the top of the door where there would be a second lock and pantomimed how to unlock it as well.

I slid the door wide with a smile. “How are you Magnus Campbell?”

“Nae good, Mistress Sheffield. I daena feel well, and Lady Mairead is verra ill.” He was agitated and sweaty. No wonder, the place was stifling hot. “Will ye see her? I haena been tae hunt yet. I canna leave her side these many days.”

“Oh, oh no, Magnus, yes, where is she?”

He rushed up the steps, with me a second behind. He pushed open the door of a bedroom, and I rushed to the edge of the bed. “Lady Mairead?”

She moaned. Her face was red hot, her breathing labored.

Magnus said, “I dinna ken what tae do. She needs food...”

“You don't have any food?”

He looked at his feet. “I dinna dare leave her.”

“Oh.” A full sweat dripped down my face. Was the AC broken? I checked her forehead. It was very hot, definitely feverish. She convulsed with a scary sounding cough.

“She hae been coughin' for two days past.”

“We need to get her to the hospital.”

“A physician?”

“Yes.” My heart raced as I dialed 911 on my phone and explained to the dispatcher that I needed an ambulance. I didn't know the address, so I guessed at the street number, the road name, and the description of the front of the house. I told them I would meet them outside.

I hung up, my hands shaking.

He hung his head. “I must go with her. I hae sworn tae protect her.”

“You can, but wait here now. I'll go downstairs and wait for the ambulance. Then we can all ride to the hospital together.”

He nodded gratefully and returned to the chair pulled alongside the bed. I raced down the stairs.

The house was huge, modern, very, very white, stark glass and metal, with accents of colored modernist plastic. The furniture was spare. Giant dried starfish hung on the tall living room wall. I wondered how the Scottish man in traditional Scottish clothes felt about his new castle? I located the AC controls near the laundry room door off the kitchen. It was a sleek box, mostly hidden, with digital controls. I punched quite a few numbers before the central air conditioning purred to life, thank god. I lifted my shirt and fanned my belly. How long had they been sweltering in here? I glanced around the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator. It was off. Empty.

I was going to kill my mom.

The ambulance arrived about fifteen minutes later and bundled Lady Mairead into the back. Magnus and I followed in my Prius and arrived just behind it. I wanted to handle the paperwork, but knew nothing past her name. I asked Magnus for their passports, but at his confused expression invented a back story: “They were robbed when they left the airport. His new passport hasn't arrived yet, but he's a UK citizen. He's leasing a beachfront — you know, here — call my father. He'll vouch for him.” I gave them my dad's private phone number, then my mom's.

Magnus and I sat in the hallway, side by side. He looked very worried and haggard.

“She'll be okay. They'll treat her for infection, help her rest, then she can go home.”

He nodded quietly. Then dropped his head back to the wall. “I am verra much starv'd.”

“Oh, right, stay here in case they need to speak to you. I'll run and get you something.” I hustled down to the cafeteria and bought Magnus a club sandwich, chips, and a soda. Also a water.

I handed him the food, but then took it again, twisted the cap off the cola, and opened the packaging on his sandwich, because he looked at everything as if seeing if for the first time.

After he devoured the food, I asked, “Do you need me to stay?”

“Aye, Mistress Sheffield. If you could remain while I wait, I would be verra indebted.”

“You know, you can call me Kaitlyn, thanking Mistress Sheffield sounds too formal.”

“Aye, Mistress Kaitlyn, then. I thank ye for your kindness both formally and informally.” The edge of his mouth went up a bit in a smile.

It was about five o'clock, when the doctor finally spoke with us about her case. He looked Magnus up and down, much the way everyone looked him up and down because of that freaking kilt. I had urged him to wrap his sword in his cloak, but the large bundle was there, beside him. His boots were leather, wrapped with more leather. Even the bottoms were not formed so much as molded to his foot, much like baby shoes.

Yet, even with these ancient trappings, he was tall and attractive, so people seemed to quickly move past his oddities. Case in point: I was helping him. Though in my defense he had a way of speaking, low and intense, plus a way of looking kind of lost that made me keep on—

“We have stabilized her and are treating the viral infection and the dehydration. She has what amounts to the flu, and her immune system is very weak.” He squinted his eyes. “It doesn't say on her records what her age is, this is your wife?”

“Nae, the Lady Delapointe is my mother.”

“Ah. She must be at least forty-five then? Can you explain the scars on her cheeks?”

“Her husband has done it.”

I added, “That's why they're here, I think.”

The doctor asked, “You're Katie Sheffield, your father is John Sheffield at the bank?”

“That's me, I grew up here. This is my friend.” Then to give him some information that might make sense, I added, “I've been living in LA.”

He said, “Oh, right. That makes sense. All right then, Madame Delapointe needs to stay overnight—”

Magnus interrupted, “She canna, I need tae—”

I put a staying hand on his arm. “It's all right Magnus, she's protected here.” I turned to the doctor. “Will she sleep all night?”

“Yes, until morning. You can return tomorrow during visiting hours, and if she's better she may go home tomorrow evening.”

Magnus turned to me, his face drawn and worried. “There are many windows, a road just beyond the walls. Would it be possible for him tae station guards?”

The doctor looked from me to Magnus. “No, but I can have someone close the curtains.”

“It will be okay, Magnus. I can drive you home, and you'll be back tomorrow when she wakes up.”

He stared at the door of the room. “How far away would I be then?”

“About ten minutes.”

He looked like he was calculating the distance. “Aye, twould be an acceptable distance. I shall return tae my house.”

The doctor said, “Good, visiting hours begin at nine o'clock.” He strolled away.

Magnus watched him go. I thought his mind was worried, but he said, “Pray, Mistress Kaitlyn, where would I forage for more food? My middle is achin', and I'm afeared my tartan is loosenin' so it may fall tae my knees. It dinna cease with these — what did ye say they are called?”

I smirked. “Pre-packaged, institutional, vending machine junk food. Yes, we can get better.”

The heat hit like a wall when we stepped out of the hospital. I half expected it to be night, but it was only six pm, a summery six. It dawned on me we might go out and eat at a restaurant, but also his mother was in the hospital. And he hadn't even turned on his AC at home yet, so I figured the nicest thing would be to take him to a grocery store. As my grandmother would have said, “Help that man get his feet under him. So you can climb him like a tree.”

I tried to hide my amusement as I held the Prius's passenger door open, because Magnus seemed confused by the handles, the doors, the seats. As I started the car he flicked the vents on the air conditioning up and down. He pushed a button and startled when his window slid open and closed. As soon as I pulled onto the road, he clamped his eyes tight, and held the dashboard.

I tried to think of reasons why he was so weird about my car. The door handle might be explained because he usually rode with a chauffeur. The AC — maybe it was always cold in Scotland? The windows — Scottish cars must be very different. He mentioned horses, right? Maybe he was a farmer. Probably old-timey, like the Amish.

I turned on the radio, one of my favorite old songs. I watched him peripherally, his eyes closed tight, his head lolling loosely as I drove onto 12th Street and sped to thirty-five miles per hour.

At the grocery store I parked under a blaring street lamp. “This is an American grocery store. Ever been in one?”

He peered up at the giant sign and quickly at the cars and people and shook his head slowly. “I hae never even seen one.”

“You are in for a treat. What is your favorite thing to eat?”

He didn't think at all. “I verra much like leg of lamb, though I am famished enough for the whole sheep.”

“Hmmm, that might not be available in the deli department. I was hoping we could get an assortment of readymade food and take it to your house. I'm a good cook, but maybe not leg-of-lamb good.”

We entered through the front doors and were hit in the face by a blast of cold air. Also the collective gasp of the store's entire customer base. Everyone stared at Magnus and then glanced warily at me. He was indifferent, going back out through the door and coming in again, looking around at the signs, up at the electric mechanism, up at the drop-tile ceiling, and dazedly around at the whole store. Which made everyone stare even harder.

I couldn't blame them — he had that unexplainable darkness, shadowy and mysterious — the cloak, the sword, the leather shoes. Plus he smelled like that combination of incense, dust, and old church. And Kilt. And Big. And Hot, like really, really hot.

I led him to the deli and began ordering: roasted chicken, fried chicken, pulled pork, a couple of baked potatoes, a tub of macaroni and cheese. He reached for a dark pumpernickel bread, a kind that did not look appetizing to me at all, watching me for cues, then placed it in our cart too.

I picked some spreadable cheeses and another loaf of bread, French. “More my style.” I scooped a tub of olives into the cart. Then, after all of that asked, “Do you like ice cream?”

He blinked and thought for a moment. When he was considering information he wasn't sure about, he squinted. “Aye?”

“Good answer.” I pushed the cart, leading him toward the frozen food section, noticing that he jingled under his cloak. There must have been a buckle near his sword, adding to his oddness, causing people to step out of his way and point.

I chose a gallon of salted caramel ice cream, a gallon of chocolate-chocolate brownie surprise, and two gallons of plain vanilla because that seemed like it would be his style, though he didn't seem to know what any of it was.

I led him down an aisle past the paper products, grabbing toilet paper, soap, and paper towels while he stood idly by, to the alcohol section. “Beer, ale, wine.”

His eyes went wide. “Ah, this I recognize.” He eagerly looked up and down the coolers.

I pointed to the middle shelf. “There's a Scottish ale here.”

His eyes widened as he read the labels. He lifted three six packs, four liters, and a growler into the cart. “We just carry this all away with us?”

“After we pay for it. Wait, did the bank give you a way to pay for things?”

He swept his cloak aside, revealing a fur pouch hanging just below his waist. He opened it and pulled out a credit card, bright green, plastic. “I hae entrusted the bank with an entire fortune and in exchange they hae given me the use of this small green tile.”

I grinned. “That's as good as money and better than carrying the gold around, I promise. I'll show you how it works.”

I let him push because the cart was piled very high. Plus, I thought he needed something to do besides gawking at everything. Other customers made way for us as I led him to the register.

The cashier said, “Katie? Katie Sheffield?”

“Yep, that's me.”

She scanned some ice cream. “I was ahead of you in school. When did you graduate?” I told her and she said, “I was three classes ahead of you.”

“Oh, sure. I think I remember you.”

She stopped scanning, her hand resting on the toilet paper. “I'm Sandy Adams, remember?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” I lied.

“That super sucks what happened to you. We were all so proud of our Katie making it big time in Los Angeles and then — that was crazy. My friend Stella, remember her, Stella Winger?”

I shook my head.

“Well she thinks you deserved losing everything, but I said, no way, that guy was a total asshole, oops, sorry. He deserved what you did to him. He posted a video today, did you know he still has marks on his face? Anyway, are you living here now?”

Her eyes darted up to Magnus.

I sighed, “I'm staying here for a bit, that's all.” I found myself looking around for an escape route, but sadly I couldn't leave Magnus here with a pile of food and a plastic tile he didn't know how to use. She finished scanning our food and then I slid his card through the machine and asked him for his PIN number.

He answered, “One. Seven. Nocht. Two.”

“Nocht means zero right?”

We hefted the sacks of food into the trunk of my car. My mood had grown sour; the conversation with the cashier embarrassed me, and I hated that Magnus heard it.

Why though? Why was I here, doing this. Sympathy? Charity? Because he was wearing a freaking skirt?

I figured it was because he was the one guy in the whole universe who didn't know about my YouTube fiasco, but now, guess what? He knew.

We lugged groceries up to the kitchen and Magnus made another trip to the car, while I turned on the refrigerator and loaded food onto the shelves. I had almost forgotten how much I loved this kind of thing, unpacking into an empty house. When I unpacked into my dorm room, it had been so exciting, my first time away from my parents. When I unloaded boxes of my things and Braden's things into our Los Angeles apartment, we were embarking on a life together. After the stress of a move it was fun to open boxes, unpack, and decide where to put everything, creating order out of chaos. Maybe this was a good life-calling for me, unpacking boxes — what would that career be, a mover?

I found dishes, salt and pepper, and spread our meal on the kitchen island.

“A cold wind is blowin' through.” He watched a plume of air blowing from a vent.

“I turned your AC on before I left.”

“Och, ye are Mistress Kaitlyn of the North Winds. I will invite ye here every day tae cool my castle.” We pulled legs off the roasted chicken and ate with our fingers. He ate as if he was starved, and followed each bite with big thirsty gulps of beer. His smile was warm and inviting.

“So how did the American grocery store and food compare to your stores at home?”

“The stores here lack much in the way of dirt and grime. A loaf of bread such as this would hae required a thorough dusting, perhaps a washing. And I dinna need tae argue for the price either. Just last week I had tae haggle with Auld Woman McGeene, she was fitful and ornery as a bear. Had a beard like one too.” I giggled as he licked chicken grease off his thumb with a content grin. “After this meal I might become more my former self.”

“Might?”

“Aye, my temples ache from the brightness of this eternal flame.”

“Oh.” I glanced around the bottom floor of his house. It had soaring ceilings, giant windows, and though darkening now, with shadow and sunset, had been bright as the surface of the sun and almost as hot when I had walked in earlier that day. Now, this evening, I had turned on every overhead light I could find and pushed the dimmers all the way up. It was very bright.

“Here, let me show you.” I led him to the light switches on the kitchen wall and showed him which dimmer worked for which lights. I turned them all down except for the under-cabinet lights. It was much nicer. Then I led him to the wall of windows looking over the beach. There, beside the sliding glass doors, was a control box. “Not sure how this works actually, but we'll push buttons until we figure it out.”

I tried a few combinations until the windows tinted dark. Then I found another combination that caused screens to slide down.

Magnus watched as the wall of windows darkened. Quietly he said, “Pray, shew me the buttons again, Mistress Kaitlyn.”

I did the combination again. The screen slid up. I did it a third time, and the screen went down. He watched carefully each time. “This was past my understandin'.”

I said, “No worries, Magnus. You try it.”

He pushed the buttons, the screen slid up, and then back down. This time though he didn't watch it slide. Instead he stared at the box. His brow drawn. He shook his head. “You must think me as dim-witted as a bairn.”

“A bairn?”

“A child.”

“Ah. You know, if you need to know something, just ask. I'll tell you. Without judgement. I love to show people how to do things. I'm quite bossy actually, and it's kind of what my job was before.”

“What do ye mean, your job?” We returned to the kitchen island.

“I used to make videos where I explained how to do things.” I glanced around the kitchen, took a big swill of heather ale, and assembled a few things for a demonstration. There was a microwave hidden within a cupboard. A cutting board in a drawer. I had bought a four pack of ivory soap bars.

I arranged them on the counter, and paused first, like I was filming. “Hi, This is KatieMakeSTuff and today I'm going to teach you how to make an erupting lava magical soap cloud...” I grinned widely, held up the bar of soap, and slowly and enthusiastically peeled the paper off. “For this magic, Ivory soap is the only soap that works. I don't know why — I should probably research that, but trust me.” I held the soap up right by my eyes and did my trademark 'cute' grin. Then I placed the soap on a paper plate in the middle of the spinner, closed the microwave door with a slam, and set the power on high for two minutes. “Now watch the magic happen.” Magnus came beside me as the soap spun, bubbled, and then burst up in a puffing cloud. “Awesome, huh?”

He peered through the window. “Tis extraordinary.”

When the soap finished erupting, I pushed the cancel button and pulled out the plate. Magnus poked the cloud of soap. “What other magic can this box do?”

“It heats up food.” I tossed a piece of bread in, warmed it for a few seconds, and gave it to him to eat. “Anyway, that's the gist of my videos — showing how to do things.”

“I hae something — tis indelicate, but most imperative.”

“Yes?”

“Where does one relieve themselves here in the New World?”

“Magnus, did you not have running water in your castle in Scotland?”

He laughed. “You answered a question with another question. In a situation that requires action ye may wish tae speak more swiftly than this.”

I jumped from my seat. “Follow me.” The bathroom closest to the kitchen was, as my mom would have said, too tiny by half, so I rushed him through the downstairs master bedroom to the gigantic full bathroom beyond. He appraised the room as if he'd never seen it before.

“Have you never been in here — wait, no more questions, here's how it works. This is the toilet. You relieve yourself here, standing, like this.” I mimicked how he would stand there, even pretending to hike a skirt, because I was feeling silly as hell, plus, pretty buzzed.

He thought it was funny, so that was good.

“Then you flush here.” I pushed the handle down. He watched dutifully.

“If you need to do something more, or if you're a woman, like me, you sit like this. You flush the same though. Then you wash your hands here. And, oh wait, here's toilet paper.” I wound a bit and mimed wiping with it. I had heard that some Europeans used bidets so I felt safe assuming it was foreign to him.

I really needed to look up Scotland and figure out why I knew nothing about how backwards it was. I had been living in LA for a while though; it was easy to forget every place on earth wasn't as cosmopolitan. Plus, I was on a self-imposed 'break' from looking things up. Whenever I went online something reminded me of that day with Braden when my whole world went to hell.

“You put it in the toilet, flush it, and then wash your hands.”

I paused for a second appraising the room and enjoying how awesome my explanation had been and how thorough.

He asked, “I am expected tae do this with company?”

“Oh no! Close the door, lock it for privacy. Here, on the handle.” I showed him the handle lock and scooted out.

I was seated at the kitchen island, giggling, when he emerged a few minutes later because I had heard the toilet flush six times. I joked, “Everything turn out okay?”

He chuckled.

“Have you been holding it for four days Magnus?”

“No, I haena the stamina, but we winna discuss the how or where of my earlier necessities.”

I giggled again. “Sounds good. I will ask no questions, except — inside or out?”

“Out.”

“Well, it can't be helped. If anyone asks, tell them teenagers did it before you arrived. You'd be surprised how much trouble people will ignore if you say 'teenagers' with just the right amount of incredulousness.”

“Teenagers?”

“People aged thirteen to nineteen.”

“Ah. Notorious troublemakers, but excellent fighters. They daena fear death. My cousin is aichteen, I am verra worried about him, that I am nae in London tae see tae him. How old are ye, Mistress Kaitlyn?”

“I'm twenty-three.”

“And you belong tae the man I met the other night?”

I coughed out a spray of beer. “What? Who, James? Oh my god, belong? Magnus, I don't know how it works in the hinterlands of Scotland, but here in America women don't belong to men, we're equals.”

He raised his brow with a chuckle. “I only meant are ye married tae him?”

“God no.” I sighed. “No, just — I don't know… We used to date. We were very serious at one time, but no, not married. Can we put this on a list of things I don't feel like talking about? Let's change the subject.”

Magnus nodded and swigged from a beer. “Pray tell me more about your job.”

“Let's see, well, my videos would get millions of views. My most popular video was...” For a half-second I thought, to be truthful, my most popular video was when I leapt across the table full of sample wedding cake slices. They smeared all over my dress, but I didn't care, I was too busy aiming my fingernails at my fiancé's face. Instead, I told Magnus about my second most popular video. “I devised three questions to ask on a first date that will tell you all you need to know about someone. People loved that video. A lot of my viewers told me it helped them. So that was great.” I swigged some more ale and sighed. “You know, I don't really want to talk about it?”

“Aye, Mistress Kaitlyn, your list of unwanted conversations is quite long.”

“It is, embarrassingly long.” My phone interrupted us with a series of notifications, one after another, snapchats from Hayley and James.

---

Hayley's said: Are you coming?

And: When will you get here?

---

Then: You promised!

And: Where are you?

---

Until finally: Okay if you don't answer, I'm calling your mom. I'll tell her I saw you in a crop-top hanging out at Main Beach partying with some really wild Georgia boys and you'll be grounded for a week like the good old days.

---

James's said: Can't wait to see you tonight.

---

They were all at the Turtle already, Monday night drinking, their weekly meet-up. I had told them I would come and now it was 8:30 already.

---

I answered back: Something came up. Can't make it tonight. I'll see you later in the week?

---

James sent back: Friday night? I'd like to take you out to dinner. A date?

---

I glanced quickly at Magnus but there was no reason to feel weird. This was just a sympathy bedside visit while “someone's mom was sick” kind of thing. Not a date, of course. Whatever.

---

I answered back: I'd like that.

---

To Hayley, I sent a selfie, cross-eyed, tongue out, that said: Can't come, feeling too peculiar. Will call tomorrow.

---

When I glanced up Magnus was watching me closely his eyes squinted, confused again.

I explained, “My friend Hayley is asking if I will come to the Turtle tonight. It's like a pub. I was telling her I couldn't come, the photo was to be funny.”

“Och aye.” He chuckled. “It looked as if ye had gone like Auld Man McGeene. He is afflicted with one eye that rolls away, so his mind goes runnin' in search of it. Tis nae easy tae converse with him.”

I giggled.

Magnus said, “I like having ye here. I daena like being alone in this house. But you hae somewhere tae be, so I winna keep ye.”

I blushed a bit. “It's not that important. Plus I've probably had too much to drink to be driving downtown anyway…” I changed the subject. “You aren't the biggest fan of this house?”

“The biggest fan?”

“You don't like it?”

“Ah.” He looked up and around at the overly tall flat walls, the endless windows, the faraway ceilings, and back at me. “This house hae improved ten-fold since ye arrived. One hundred-fold since ye spread the table with food. Verra much more since ye taught me where tae relieve myself.”

We both laughed, but his meaning was plain: this house didn't suit him at all. “I feel partly responsible for your situation with this house, because it was my mom who leased it to you. How about we make a list of what you need to make it livable?” I fished in a drawer for the pad I knew would be there — a notepad with a photo of my mom above her motto, “Buying and selling dreams!” I found a pen at the bottom of my purse. A bank pen. From Dad. I looked expectantly at Magnus. “What's wrong with this house?”

“Hot as demon's breath with nae fire tae dampen.”

I wrote too hot and placed a checkmark beside it. I liked to list things and check them off. It made me feel successful. “Too hot, we fixed that with the AC setting. Next.”

“I had pain in my head because of the blaring lights.”

“Too bright. Got it. Now you know how to close the screens and dim the lights.” I checked that off too.

“I was most desperately starv'd.”

“Check.” I grinned and gestured at the counter covered with deli food trash and empty beer bottles.

He said, “Mistress Kaitlyn, ye hae saved my life.”

“You sir, are over-dramatic.”

He chuckled, low and rumbling. “Well, I need nocht else, but Lady Mairead will need someone tae help her dress.”

My pen stopped in midair. “To dress? Is she an invalid?”

“She is used tae many comforts. Dressing is but one of them and I canna be the one.”

I blinked. “Well, you probably need a staff, I mean, you have the money. Lady Mairead is used to having someone take care of her. Do either of you know how to cook?”

“Nae need. I will ride tae the food stores each day.”

“Ugh. I mean this is great mac and cheese, but I promise you won't be able to eat it for four days before you're sick and tired of it. It's the same as McDonalds, can't eat it every day. You'll need a personal chef. Also a maid. Do you clean house?”

“Nae. I daena care for it.”

“Exactly. So if you could hire a staff to give Lady Mairead the comforts she's used to, how many people would you need?”

He listed on his fingers. “Cook, laundry, clean, tae market, dressing. I will need a man tae be in charge of the stables. Also, weapons. Would I be able tae find some men tae protect the walls?”

“Security you mean? And hold on, a stable?”

“For my horses. And security, tae protect Lady Mairead.”

I dropped the pen. “Is she in danger? Who is she in danger from, her husband?”

His brow furrowed. “I dinna mean tae worry ye. Twill take time for Lord Delapointe tae find us, but tis my duty tae protect her. I will need men day and night.”

I added that to the bottom of the list and circled it. “But I'm safe here, right?”

His hand rested on the handle of a long knife he wore at his hip. “Aye,” he met my eyes and held them. “Nocht will happen tae ye.”

I looked away to count down the list. He would need at least five people, maybe more.

“Hayley runs her family's temp agency. I'll call her and ask if she has any people.” I pulled up my phone and called Hayley right then.

She answered, “Hey girl! You should come, I'm doing shots!”

“What kind?”

“Absolut Legspreaders!” She giggled wildly.

“Awesome. Hey, you know that guy from the other night, the one in the kilt?”

It was loud where she was; she yelled, “The hottie in the kilt?”

Her voice carried through the phone causing Magnus's brow to draw together.

“His mother is in the hospital, so I'm helping him arrange for when she comes home tomorrow. I wanted to know if—”

“You're with the hottie in the skirt right now? You blew us off for a skirt-wearing Scottish guy?”

“Can James hear you right now?”

“No, I got up from the table before you said all this crazy bullshit. You have a date with James in a few days right?”

“I do. This is just business.”

“What kind of business? Are you YouTube videoing him? Are you making porn with the kilt guy?” She giggled drunkenly. “I mean, there are worse things, of course, but if you go being a porn star with MacDickson you won't marry James and have babies at the same time as me. Our babies need to grow up together—” I put my hand over the phone to cut off her words, stood up, and left for the laundry room. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I'm not marrying James. We have one date planned. Plus, if you remember, he played me last time. Played me hard. Broke my heart.”

“He's changed though, Katie. He really has.”

“Bullshit. Where are you right now?”

“The sidewalk out front.”

“Look through the window. What's James Cook doing right now?”

“Um...”

“Exactly. Who is he talking to?”

“Christina, you remember her from school? She's in my seat.”

“Is she flipping her hair, Hayley? Is he spinning his beer bottle and doing that lopsided smile thing?”

“Katie, I'm going to kill you. Just don't make porn with the Scottish guy, and please give James a chance on Friday, for me, please?”

“I am going on the date. And this is just business. And I need you to call me when you get to the office tomorrow. I need to hire about…” I had forgotten how many people, so I quickly counted. “Five people. Possibly more.”

“Crap girl, that will make my quota. I'll call first thing. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!”

“Doesn't leave much.”

I walked back into the kitchen. It was awkward to go from talking about Magnus when he could hear me, to speaking to him directly. “Sorry about that, my friend Hayley has opinions she likes to share, loudly. I'll organize it with her though, and she'll send some people tomorrow.

He was a standing beside his barstool. I was standing beside mine.

He said, “T'would establish me verra well tae hae more men. Tis been a long and arduous week. I dinna ken what I would do without your assistance.”

“You probably need to rest...I should probably go...” I pulled my purse off the back of my chair. Trouble was I didn't really want to. This was the most relaxed I'd been in days. I loved meeting someone new, especially when they were like this, nonjudgmental.

He said, “I know ye hae somewhere tae be, but if ye dinna — would ye stay here tonight? I hae rooms aplenty. I daena much like the idea of being alone — the house is verra strange still, but your presence has improved it measurably.”

He looked uncomfortable and that had been really sweet. So I thought through my options, which weren't great. If I went home now, Mom and Dad would still be up. They'd talk to me about my “plans” and I was a little too tipsy for that. Or the inverse, they would ignore me and act like I was in their space. Which I was. Eating their food. Watching tv in their living room. Sleeping in the guest room, because my old room had been turned into their gym. As Mom helpfully pointed out, “You were getting married, that means you don't live here anymore.”

I could show up at the Turtle. That would be pretty funny since James was flirting with someone, but also, Hayley sounded full-blown buzzed. That would not be fun to walk into the middle of. Also, how much had I been drinking? Probably a lot. I supposed I might as well stay. In a separate room of course.

“Okay, yeah, I mean, I could stay in the guest room, that would be okay.” I put my purse over the back of the chair again. He opened another bottle of heather ale and set it in front of me.

“Besides, I still haven't given you a full tour of the house yet, with extra instructions. Let's start here.” We were facing the living room. “What do you see that doesn't make sense?”

He walked around the room looking at things closely and making a hmmm noise, as if studying it, rubbing his fingers along his square jaw, contemplating. Nodding. Finally, he said, “'Tis all mysterious, nae familiarity in anythin'. My grandfather, Archibald, told me, 'Magnus, if ye see something ye haena seen afore just scratch your balls—” He glanced at me and corrected himself with a chuckle. “Hae a bit o'ale and keep mum on it. Tis better tae make no noise than tae chirp like a corncrake.' My grandmother though, said, ''Tis better tae question and know the meaning of it, than tae suffer like a fool.' They were verra often more adversaries than friends.”

“My grandmother told me, “If you don't know what something is, pretend like you do while you figure it out.”

Magnus laughed a low booming laugh. “Your grandmother would hae gotten along with my grandfather quite well. “

“I'll tell her next time I speak to her.”

“She still lives?”

“Yes, far away though, in Maine.”

“Mine died during a battle with some of clan Donald.”

“Scotland is definitely different than I thought. It's in the EU, or it was, until Brexit, but I guessed it was much more cosmopolitan than you're describing.”

Magnus tipped his glass, drank to the bottom, and then poured another. “What is this big black thing on the wall?”

“The tv? Seriously, even the Amish know what a tv is...” I walked toward it shaking my head.

He laughed. “I am telling ye a story, Mistress Kaitlyn. I know tis a teev, but haena seen this kind afore.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Good, because tv is as basic as rock-and-roll at this point.” I hit the power on and switched through channels. Nothing looked good. I glanced peripherally at Magnus, who was wincing. “Too loud?”

“Everythin' here buzzes, as if bees were swarmin' inside. Tis verra loud. You canna hear it?”

“I shook my head and turned off the tv. “What about music? I turned on a speaker, hooked my phone to it, and turned on my 'Chill for a Sec You Dumbass' playlist — created just after I assaulted Braden. On camera. The playlist had lots of Lana DeRay, so I deemed it quiet enough. I switched the volume way down.

I dropped onto the comfy couch. That was one good thing about Beach Modern decorating, giant overstuffed sofas with a surplus of decorative pillows. I tucked my feet up under me and lounged.

Magnus asked, “Would ye like another ale?”

I already had a very nice buzz, but now that I didn't need to drive, why not? “Sure.”

He grabbed two ales by the bottle necks and joined me in the living room dropping into a chair beside the couch. “This music is beautiful.”

“It's Lana Del Rey, one of my favorites.” I sang a couple of lines, very low like a whisper, because my singing voice was terrible. Everyone thought so. A friend in middle school once told me I sounded like a baby hippo crying when I sang along to Rihanna. It was true so I didn't mind. I caught Magnus furtively glancing at me, so I quit singing. “You and your mother must be very close. “

He said, “No, I haena known her most of my life. I was sent away after my father died tae be raised by my uncle John in London.”

“But you're protecting her now?”

“I hae sworn tae protect her by oath. No matter what comes. Wherever it takes us.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” I said it though I didn't really understand it. “And you said her husband was going to come for her?”

“Aye, Lord Delapointe. She has taken something he verra much wants.”

I was enjoying this story. It was like the plot of a movie — easy to forget it was real life, because so much about Magnus had a weird fantasy vibe about it, not seeming real at all. I swigged from my bottle.

Then I thought of something. “What did she take, was it the gold and jewels? Are we caught up in a museum robbery or something?”

“Nae the jewels belong tae Lady Mairead. He wants something else entirely.”

“Oh.”

“I would rather nae speak of it, if ye dinna mind, Mistress Kaitlyn. I find myself in the New World, at the dawn of a new life, with new friends,” he lifted his bottle in salute to me. “I prefer nae tae dwell in the past.”

“Hear hear.” I raised my bottle too. “And that's a good reminder, dwelling in the past sucks. New World, dawn of a new life, new friends.” I yawned, a big yawn, the kind that cracks your face wide with embarrassing noises.

“You are fatigued?”

“I am, I was up late last night watching tv. How about you?”

“Much the same, but I can make do on little. You may retire, Mistress Kaitlyn. You will be safe enough, I'll keep watch.”

“Lady Mairead's room is upstairs, which is yours? I mean, I'm wondering which room I should take?”

“You may hae the grand room.” He gestured toward the door of the master bedroom. “I'll make my bed here.” He bounced up and down on the cushions of the overstuffed chair. “What name would ye call this?”

“A chair?”

He chuckled. “I had hoped for somethin' fancier. I shall sleep in this heaven-stuff'd chair.”

I hadn't known him for long, but his face had so many expressions, most often intense and deep, but then when he was amused his smile spread and crinkled the corner of his eyes. I drained my beer and stood to grab my purse and head into the bedroom.

He asked, “Will ye turn off the lights? I hae forgotten your first lesson, Mistress Kaitlyn, ye may need tae shew me again on the morrow.”

“Happy to.” I turned the switches off, throwing the entire bottom floor into darkness, but only for a moment. Once my eyes adjusted, through the sliding glass door, the boardwalk glowed faintly in the moonlight. The sea grass beyond stood still on the dunes.

“Tis peaceful, ye made it just right.”

“Goodnight, Magnus.”

“Good night, Mistress Kaitlyn, thank ye for welcoming me tae the New World.”

My room was luxurious, large, with a full wall of glass. I didn't close the blinds so I could look out onto the beach, at night, from my bed. It was awesome. I had never had a view like this. Undulating dunes, covered in sparse sea grass.

The bed covers were silk. The pillows so large I was sure to throw a neck out by morning. Why did luxurious beds always have neck injuring pillows? I tucked one between my legs, wrapped around another one, tucked into the covers and was asleep in minutes.