CHAPTER THREE
BROCHAN
PRESENT DAY
Ashley curled into me. Her long arm wrapped possessively around my waist. Tall and rail thin, it wasn’t a wonder she was a super model. I preferred a woman with a little meat on her bones. One who wouldn’t break when I took her up against the wall, hard and fast. Ashley had been fun, but she was beginning to form an attachment. It was time to move on.
We moved through Edinburgh Castle, the charity event was being held in the opulent dining room. It seemed counterproductive to hold an event for charity by spending a small fortune to host it. Write a damn check. I wasn’t here for the charity or for Ashley. I checked my watch; we were on schedule.
“I was surprised you said yes. You hate functions like this,” Ashley purred as she ran her finger down my neck.
I did, but when an opportunity presented itself. “I’m a fan of the panda.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that. Oh, champagne. I’m going to powder my nose. Grab me a glass.”
She didn’t wait, strolling off in her fuck me heels.
Ignoring the waiter and the champagne, I eyed the crowd until I found my mark—a heavyset man with an odd purplish complexion. Seemed to me his ex-wife should just wait for nature to take her course. The man looked like he was one foot in the grave already. Not my place to be the conscience or voice of reason. If you could pay my fee, there were no questions asked.
Harold Erskine, a solicitor, husband and father of three. He also had wandering eyes and hands. His flavor for the moment was a girl no older than eighteen, nearly the age of his eldest. His wife learned of his infidelity and filed for divorce. Harold didn’t want to pay child support, so he was using his vast bank account and colleagues to find his wife unfit so his children could be sent to boarding school, cheaper than the monthly settlement he was paying currently.
I’d done my research. Harold was a randy cad, liked to fuck in public. A man his age messing up the sheets with a teenager would work in my favor. Normally, I liked a more hands on approach, but with a witness I had to sit this one out. Monkshood, a poison that was undetectable in an autopsy, added to the whisky he drank religiously before a fuck would bring about cardiac arrest. His wife wanted him humiliated. Croaking with his cock in a girl young enough to be his daughter during a charity event to save the pandas, yeah, that was fucking humiliating.
I checked my watch again. If he stuck to routine—the man was a stickler for routine, eating at the same bistro every morning for breakfast, parking in the same spot in front of his building, getting his clothes dry cleaned on the same fucking day every week—he’d be ordering that whisky any minute now. And like clockwork, he moved to the bar. I strolled through the crowd and came up beside him.
“Evening.”
He looked over, a man impatient to get to the more sensual part of his night.
“Evening.”
“Pandas,” I said.
“What?”
“Saving the pandas.” I looked around at the show of wealth, the flamboyance that had nothing at all to do with saving the pandas and all to do with status and showing off.
He understood when he laughed. “Just another excuse to dress up and be decadent.”
The bartender placed his glass on the bar top. Harold slid the money across to him and grabbed his drink. “Enjoy your evening,” he said kind of tongue in cheek and started away.
I moved with him and was careful to knock his arm only enough to get some of the whisky to spill over the rim. His focus shifted down to his pants and the small wet spot forming. I dropped the powder into his drink.
“Damn, sorry man.”
Irritation rolled over his face. He didn’t even acknowledge the apology. His honey was waiting. He kicked back the drink and placed the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her away. I didn’t need to follow. When he croaked in the middle of a fuck, I was pretty sure her scream would alert everyone.
I went in search of Ashley. She was still in the ladies room. I joined her.
“What are you doing?” she asked then her eyes narrowed in understanding.
I flipped the lock and pushed her up against the door. Lifting her dress, I found her both wet and naked. Her smug smile turned into a moan as I fingered her clit.
“Condom is in my pocket.”
She reached into my pocket, spent some time fondling me through the fabric of my pants, before she pulled my zipper down.
“Let me play.”
“No.”
“I want to taste you.”
“Condom. Now.”
Her pout was lost on me. As soon as I was covered, I lifted her leg, dug my fingers into her thigh and pulled her onto my cock. Her head fell back, her moan loud enough to be heard through the door. Her hands pulled through my hair, trying to drag my mouth down to hers. I didn’t kiss. I fucked. She came, loud and long, before I emptied myself. The tingling at the base of my spine, the chills that moved down my legs, it was biology … pure and simple.
“One of these days I’m going to get that magnificent cock in my mouth,” Ashley threatened as she fixed her appearance in the mirror.
I wasn’t going to be seeing her again. No point in telling her that. I reached for the door and held it for her. A few minutes after we rejoined the others, we heard the scream.
After dropping Ashley home, I called Gerard. He was my information man, the best in the business. He could find out anything on anyone.
“It’s done,” I said. “Has the money been transferred?”
“Aye.”
“I’m taking some time.”
“Why?”
“Personal reasons.”
“You have a personal life?”
I disconnected the call.
On my way back from Edinburgh, I drove past my father’s estate—the McIntyre ancestral home. The charred remains sat hauntingly on its hill. I owned it, the land, what was left of the building. I had enjoyed watching it burn. There had been just enough wood in the design to catch the fucker on fire. Developers wanted it, but I wasn’t ready to part with it. I got an odd sense of satisfaction seeing what had been my nightmare nothing more than a pile of rocks.
My home sat on the other end of the small town. I hadn’t had a stellar reputation, but after the fire I became a pariah. I didn’t visit town often, but when I did people avoided me like the plague. Fear fueled their behavior; I’d heard the whispers, the rumors. I did nothing to dispel their fears, partly because I didn’t give a fuck, but partly because many of them knew what my father became and yet they did nothing…all but one. My former teacher.
There wasn’t much in my blackened heart, but what little I had went to her, Fenella and Finnegan. Her cottage sat on rolling hills. She was forever outside working the gardens. I didn’t get it. They died, you had to cut them back, replant. A lot of work for something that was so temporary. There was a heaviness that hung in the air as I approached the house. It had been growing stronger and stronger as her life slowly slipped away. When I knocked, it was a weary Fergus that greeted me. He didn’t like me; he was right not to. We had something in common and as much as he disliked me, he loved her.
“How is she?”
Tears filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. I felt nothing, hadn’t for a long time, but a phantom memory of pain burned in my gut.
“It won’t be long now.”
Such simple words, but when put together they were anything but.
A sickly sour scent filled her cottage. Even with the windows open, the smell of death saturated. Her room was at the end of a small hall. Her one time robust frame was frail. Her auburn hair had gone completely white and those green eyes that always sparkled with life were dull. Her head turned on the pillow and her lips curved up.
“Brochan.”
I settled on the chair Fergus had vacated. I pressed a kiss on her forehead. She was cold and her skin was paper-thin. “She won’t come.”
Brianna was speaking of her niece, Norah Calhoun. The woman was a cunt. I didn’t know her, but I heard the stories. The town still spoke of her. As loved as Brianna was, Norah was disliked just as strongly. She always wanted more than what she had. Lying and deceiving to get what she wanted. And she had hurt the one person who had given up everything to care for her because Norah left and never looked back.
“She has a daughter. I want to meet her.”
“She’s probably no better than her mother.”
“She’s my kin. The only kin I have left.”
With kin like hers she was better off alone.
“My lawyer is looking for her, but there isn’t much time.”
That phantom pain was stronger and I was more harsh than I intended when I barked, “Don’t say that.”
“I’ve been dying for a while. I’m not going to thwart death again. I’ve made peace with it. If I don’t live to meet her, be kind.”
“I am many things, but kind is not one of them. Leave that to Fergus.”
“You have kindness in you, goodness too, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here with me now.”
“I owe you a debt. I’m returning it.”
“Bullshit. My dying wish is that you show my kin kindness.”
“With Norah for a mother, you ask too much of me.”
“Don’t hold the sins of the parent against the child. You of all people should know that.”
She always had a way of getting right to the point. “Fine. I’ll attempt kindness until she proves she is no better than her mother.”
“I have your word.”
“My word doesn’t count for much, but you’ve got it.”
She took my hand into her small one. “It means everything to me.”
I went home for a shower and a change of clothes before I returned to Brianna’s. Fenella met me in the foyer.
“How is she?”
“Dying,” I snapped then felt badly.
“I’m sorry, Brochan. I know how much she means to you.”
That earned her a look. Despite what I had become, she too still insisted on seeing good in me.
“She has kin. Norah’s daughter.”
I knew the look well. Fenella showed it often, usually when she was watching those soaps she loved so much. Disgust.
“My feelings exactly. She wants to meet her before…” The thought of a world without Brianna in it had that phantom pain aching again. “I’m thinking she’s better off letting sleeping dogs lie.”
“’Tis normal to want to set things right.” She twisted her fingers together. She had more on her mind. “I won’t insult either of us and pretend I don’t know where you go and what you do. ’Tis your life to live as you see fit and a part of me understands, but you are more than that. You don’t see it, you haven’t for a very long time, but you are more than that.”
“I’m not.”
“You are, Brochan. Finnegan and I will always be here, will always have your back, but one day I really hope you see that your father didn’t break you, he only bent you.”
It was a double-edged sword, their belief in me. It kept me grounded, kept me from spiraling too far out of control and that was the duality. It kept me from finally ridding myself completely of that fucking conscience they had both instilled in me, the one Brianna had taken up the torch on, feeding the fire of that dying ember.
“Speaking of which, Finnegan was looking for you.”
My hands curled unconsciously, but I went to find him. I knew just where to look.
The room was dark, the smell of death clung to the air. Brianna’s breathing was labored. Fergus sat at her side holding her hand.
“I’d like a moment with Brochan, love.”
“Of course.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. He glanced at me giving a warning that I not upset her before he strolled out.
“Come. Sit.”
I settled in the chair. She reached for my hand. “He doesn’t understand why you do what you do.”
I knew that. I didn’t care.
“I understand it. I can’t say I condone it, but I do understand it. There’s a kind of justice in what you do.”
“I’m not looking to right wrongs.”
“I think you are. You just don’t know it.”
“Trying to make me good won’t change a damn thing.”
“See, that’s your problem. You think you aren’t good, but I know better.”
I never understood her unwavering belief in me. I did nothing to encourage it. Did nothing to earn the respect of such a good woman. “I’m not good.”
“You are, Brochan. A bad man would not be sitting here with a dying old lady. A bad man wouldn’t be sad about it. I haven’t been able to convince you, neither have Fenella and Finnegan, but my wish for you is that you meet that one person who will. I wish I could be there to see when someone breaks through that hard shell with nothing more than understanding. You’ll fall, Brochan, and I hope you let yourself.”
My eyes burned.
“I love you. I know you don’t want to hear that, but I do. You are like a son to me. I wish I could have done more for you, stopped the harm before it happened.”
“You did enough.” I felt the tear roll down my cheek. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried.
“Find happy, Brochan. Life is too short to live with hate.”
I held her hand tightly as the years slipped away and I was that kid again, the one prepared to take on my monster to save my hero. My chest ached. “I love you.”
Her eyes went bright before tears spilled out of them. “I know, but I do love hearing you say it.”
Pain flashed over her face, her breath stilled. “Could you ask Fergus to come in?”
“Aye.”
“We will meet again.”
My own eyes filled, my reply no more than a broken whisper. “Promise.”
“I promise.”
I stood and pressed a kiss on her head, my lips lingered as I silently said my goodbye. Our eyes connected and she smiled. I walked outside as Fergus and Brianna said their goodbyes.
Two hours later, Brianna Calhoun, my savior, my conscience and my friend, died.
I was drunk. I didn’t allow myself to drink to the point of intoxication thanks to my father, but the fucking pain I didn’t want to feel damn near suffocated me. She was gone. It took almost a month, watching every day as her life drained away. Fergus, hard as nails, cried. Wept at her bedside when she took her last breath. After her funeral, I went straight from the cemetery to Edinburgh. I wasn’t about to lose my shit in town. Edinburgh offered anonymity.
“Brochan.”
I hissed out a breath when Ashley settled on the stool next to me, her hip practically on my leg. She hadn’t noticed my condition. The woman was the poster child for self-centered.
“I haven’t heard from you in a month. What’s going on?”
I had no intention of telling her shit. “Busy.”
Her head snapped to me. “Are you drunk?” Surprise shifted to interest as her lips curved up. “You’re drunk. That might be fun.” Her hand dropped to my lap, rubbing against my cock. I wasn’t a eunuch; I grew hard.
“Maybe we should go somewhere and take care of that?” She leaned closer and whispered, “Let me suck you off. I’m told I am quite good.”
I had no doubt. That was partly why I never let her suck me off, she got around, but also because there was an intimacy with blow jobs, a moment when you lost control, handed it over to the one on their knees. There was no way in hell I’d give that kind of control over to a vain bitch like Ashley. “I’ll pass.”
Fire flashed in her eyes. I fucking didn’t care.
“Are you seeing someone else?” That pissed me off, the implication that we were together.
“I’m not even seeing you. We fuck.”
Now she was pissed. “We fuck, that is all it is to you?”
“Yeah. And don’t act all indignant. You aren’t limiting yourself to fucking just me, so climb off the fucking horse.”
“I would if you would let me in.”
It always came back to this. She didn’t want in anymore than I wanted her in. She wanted to lead me around by the cock, live under my roof and spend my money. I’d rather have stakes driven into my skull.
My focus wasn’t great, but I tried to look her in the eyes when I said, “Not interested. Move on.”
“Just like that?”
“Didn’t put a ring on your finger, sweetheart.”
“How dare you treat me like nothing more than a whore.”
“You spread your legs for any man with money. That is the definition of a whore.”
Even drunk, I stopped her hand from making contact with my cheek. “I’d be very careful,” I warned.
“I can’t believe I actually thought we might have a future.”
“I can’t believe you thought that either.”
Her performance of outraged indignation was decent. Her parting words, “You’ll be sorry.” She stormed off and I called for another drink. At least the pain in my chest had eased.
Mac Donovan stood on his drive, his small estate rising up behind him and his pretty wife at his side. Two dogs playfully chased each other. Not a scene I thought I would ever see and certainly not from someone as ruthless as Mac Donovan. Pulling up behind his Range Rover, I climbed from the car and looked around. “You seem more the penthouse type, Mac.”
He grinned as he approached. “We’re all capable of change, Brochan.” He didn’t extend his hand, that wasn’t Mac’s way; he yanked me into a half hug. I tensed; it was instinctual. He knew why, but it didn’t stop him. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you. Retirement agrees with you.”
“That it does.” He reached out for his wife. “This is Ava. Ava, Brochan McIntyre.”
“’Tis nice to meet you. Mac speaks of you often.”
“Nothing good I’m sure.”
“Quite the contrary.”
The dogs were rolling around, nipping at each other.
“Boomer and Champ, English Shepherds, six months old,” Mac offered.
Ava wrapped her arm around Mac’s waist, the gesture so easily offered and he moved into it, wrapping his around her. Content, peaceful, happy.
“We want children. Baby steps,” Ava teased, but my attention jerked to Mac. The fiercest in the business and the man had stars in his eyes thinking about children.
Those eyes shifted to me. “What brings you out here?”
“I needed to decompress.”
He knew what that meant, had been there a few times. Without missing a beat, he pressed a kiss on Ava’s head. “We’ll be in shortly.”
“I’ll start lunch.” She surprised me when she took my hand. “It’s really nice meeting you, Brochan.”
She headed for the door, the dogs following her in.
“Best fucking thing to ever happen to me.”
I believed him.
He turned and dropped his hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“Brianna died.”
Understanding moved over his face, his hand gave a light squeeze. “Oh, man. Brochan, I’m sorry.”
I met Mac right after the fire at my father’s estate. He broke apart a fight I was in. I was prepared to kill someone and all he had done was look at me funny. We talked that night, all night. He told me if I wanted to vent my anger in a more constructive way to call him. I had lived for so long with no power, at the mercy of someone who preyed on my weaknesses. He gave me a way to take that control back, to right the wrongs done to others. I wasn’t virtuous, I’d sold my soul the first time I squeezed the trigger, but I had done it with my eyes wide open.
“Now that you’re retired, settled with what looks like an idyllic life, do you have regrets?”
He gestured to the lane as we started down it. He pushed his hands into his pockets, looked ahead but his mind was in the past. “There will be those who see the world very black and white, but life is nothing but shades of gray. There can’t be hard fast rules on what is right and wrong because nothing is that clear cut. A man kills someone for his wallet. That’s wrong, but then you learn that he lost his job because his boss wanted him to cut corners and he wouldn’t. His wife is sick and they need the insurance he had with his job. The man whose wallet he stole was the man who fired him. Does it make it right? Maybe not, but it makes his actions more understandable.” His focus shifted to me. “You better than anyone know the ugliness that happens behind closed doors and so many times it’s never brought to light. People know but turn blind eyes. Silence can be deadly. We smash open those fucking doors. No, I don’t have any regrets at all. Life is what you make it. For some, the way I’ve spent my life is wrong, a sin, but my conscience is clear. And…” He gestured around him, “For those that believe in karma, I’m not the only one who feels that way.”
He always had a way of looking at things that cut through all the bullshit. Still, ruthless Donovan a father…he’d make a good one. I wasn’t above fucking with him though. “Children?”
“Yeah. Ava really wants them and she’s still young enough to have them. Me, I’m getting old but I’m willing to try.”
“You’re what, forty-five? That’s not that old.”
“You’re only a decade behind me.” He patted my back. “Lunch will be ready.”
“Thanks, Mac.” It wasn’t just for today, but for offering a hand when I really needed it. He knew. “It’s what families do. Speaking of family, you’re godfather to Boomer and Champ.” He flashed me a smile. “Practice.”
“Fucking hell.”
LIZZIE
The gallery was packed; interested buyers strolled around the open space studying my paintings. I still hadn’t gotten used to being a celebrity of sorts. I wasn’t someone you’d recognize if I walked down the street, but in a setting like this it was both overwhelming and humbling when people stood in awe of my images. The dark edge to my work was sort of my signature. I sought what most thought of as ugly because even in the ugly there was beauty. An old gnarly tree, dead and rotting from insects and disease, but there was beauty in the way the branches had grown reaching for the sun and how the trunk, even crooked, held the weight of the one time majestic tree. The abandoned building, infested with rats and cockroaches, but the remnants of its former glory lingered in the hand carved fireplaces and crown moldings.
Cait approached. “You’ve got a buyer for ‘Restless’, but he’d like to talk with you first.”
“Who am I talking to?”
“The tall hottie in the black suit.” Cait leaned closer. “He’s delicious, Lizzie.”
Cait recently started cohabiting with her fiancé and she was on a mission to get me to find love and do the same. I dated, but I never found anyone I liked enough to date for more than a few months and certainly not move in with. She was in bliss and wanted me to be too. I loved that she cared, but that meant any man between the ages of twenty-eight and fifty were fair game for her meddling.
“I’ve no intention of licking him.”
“Your loss.” She touched my arm. “Have fun. I know you get nervous, but there is no reason to be. They are all here for you.”
I knew that and still nerves had my stomach twisting. “I’ll try.”
She grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “This will help.”
I downed the whole thing then handed her the glass. “Here I go.”
Cait studied me. She’d found the black sheath dress that hugged my figure. Had insisted her stylist pull my curly brown hair up into an elegant knot, and loaned me her Christian Louboutin black stilettos. “You look fantastic. Knock him dead.”
I joined the man in front of ‘Restless’ a cemetery that was being relocated. It struck me as deeply disturbing to stir those from their final resting place just so a strip mall could go up. Still, there was beauty in the old caskets and in the knowledge that we were all part of the circle of life.
Dark eyes studied me, enough that I felt a little uncomfortable. “Ms. Danton?”
“Yes.”
He held out a yellow envelope. “You’ve just been served.”
I paced my lawyer’s office; Harrison Billows was worth every cent I paid him. “My mother is suing me? On what grounds.”
“She’s contesting a will.”
“What will?”
He scrolled a name on a piece of paper. “Joseph Masters. He’s an attorney who represents the late Brianna Calhoun.”
Hearing my mother’s maiden name, my stomach squeezed tight. Was there another Calhoun like Norah out there? I hoped not. One was more than enough.
“Apparently this Brianna Calhoun is your mother’s aunt. She left you her estate.”
I didn’t immediately hear everything he said because I was stuck on the fact that I had had a great aunt. The rest followed shortly after. “Her estate?”
“Yes, in Scotland. Brianna didn’t know you existed. She only learned of you shortly before she died. Her lawyer is still getting her affairs in order.”
“How does Norah know when I haven’t even been notified yet?”
“Good question. I’ve called Joseph and he is very eager to meet you. You’ve an appointment today at three.”
“If she lived in Scotland, why is her lawyer in New York?”
“He received his law degree in Scotland, but he also took the bar here. With you a US resident and Brianna being from Scotland, having a lawyer who practices in both countries simplifies things.”
“Do I need to worry about this lawsuit?”
He actually snarled, “No, it’s a nonsense suit. Joseph has assured me the will is ironclad, not to mention the bad blood between Norah and Brianna.”
“Bad blood?”
“I’ll let Joseph fill you in. Don’t worry, Lizzie, we’ll handle the lawsuit.” He stood and walked me to the door. “I know you didn’t know her, but I’m sorry for your loss, sorry you didn’t get a chance to know her.”
It hadn’t fully sunk in, but I was sorry too. “Thank you.”
The lawyer’s office was understated, but elegant with antique furnishings and muted walls decorated with pretty landscapes done in watercolor. I didn’t have to wait and was shown into an office where an elderly gentleman with a thick head of white hair sat behind a desk that looked a lot like the Resolute Desk. He stood as soon as I entered.
“Miss Danton, Joseph Masters. Thank you for coming. Please…” He gestured to the chair across from him.
“I’m sorry for the manner in which you learned of your aunt.”
“Me too, but then nothing surprises me when it comes to Norah. I wasn’t aware she had any living family.”
“Your mother severed all ties with her family when she moved to the States.”
Moved to the States? What was he talking about? “I’m sorry. My mother wasn’t born here?”
“Your mother was born in Scotland. She moved to the States and never looked back. The only other family was her aunt, a Brianna Calhoun.”
“And she died.”
“Yes, quite recently. Her heart, she was only sixty-eight. She didn’t know about you. It was very important to her that I stress that to you. She had no contact with Norah. To be quite frank, she scratched Norah from her life. The manner in which she left, her refusal to stay in touch, Brianna didn’t want her toxic personality in her life anymore.”
“I can sympathize.”
“I’m sorry for that.”
“My mother’s loss. Aunt Brianna must have learned of me at some point.”
“In her final months, she was getting her will together. She asked me to contact Norah. She hoped for a reconciliation before she died, her way of making peace. Your mother never returned a single one of my calls. But it was while I dug into your mother that I learned of you. When I told Brianna she had family it broke her heart because due to pride she never got to know you. It sickened her when she learned your parents had all but abandoned you. She couldn’t make it right for you in life, but she wanted to do so in death, which is why you are here. All of her possessions, including her cottage in Scotland, she has left to you.”
I opened my mouth but I had no reply. How did one reply to something like that? A woman I never knew left me everything. It felt wrong to even think about accepting.
“There is no one else?”
“Only your mother.”
It felt wrong for me to accept, but it was really wrong for my mother to get her hands on it. Particularly now that she was trying to take it. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but…”
“It is a lot to take in.”
“Yes, and not just the inheritance but learning I had family and missed out on meeting her.”
“We don’t have to do this today. If you would rather a few days to get your head around it.”
“How did Norah learn I was being left Brianna’s estate?”
He looked a little scary when he said, “I don’t know, but I do intend to find out.”
“Would Brianna have left the estate to Norah?”
“Had she not run away, yes. But not with how things were left. She sought reconciliation, but she wasn’t a doormat. Her money was being left to the school where she taught and her cottage donated to the national historical register.”
“But Norah learns it’s being left to me and now she’s crawling out of the woodwork to claim it.”
“Yes, but she won’t succeed.”
I hoped he was right, but knowing Norah’s track record it was possible she’d pull it off. I wanted to see it. In case Norah managed the impossible, I wanted to see the place where I actually had roots and a connection. “A cottage in Scotland.”
“Yes, a lovely one in a small village called Tulloch Croft.”
“I’d like to see where she lived, would like to know where I came from.”
He pulled out a key ring and slid it across the desk. “Very well. I just have a few things for you to sign.”
“I can’t believe Norah. It’s been twenty years that she’s ignored you, but when there’s something in it for her she reappears. What a bitch.” Cait and I were having lunch; I called her as soon as I left the lawyer’s office.
“Understatement.”
“They won’t let her win, right?”
“I hope not.”
“A cottage in Scotland. It sounds magical. What do you think this Brianna was like?” Cait asked.
“She didn’t get along with my mother and she left me everything, someone she never met. I think we would have had a lot in common. My mother is cruel, but denying me the only other family I had was by far her cruelest act. How different my life could have been if instead of dropping me in Vermont, she sent me to Scotland…home to family.”
“But you might not have found your art.”
“True.”
“You’re going.” She wasn’t asking. She knew I was.
“Yes. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the cottage. I’ll most likely put it up for sale, but it’s my heritage and considering the legacy of my parents, I want to see what else I’m made of.”
“Makes sense. Plus Scotland, talk about inspiration. I’ll take care of everything here. I’ll get your utilities shut off while you’re gone and stop your mail.”
“I may not have scored big in the parent department, but I hit the jackpot with you. Thank you, Cait. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never be in that situation, so don’t worry about it.”