Thursday morning, bright and early, Jordan pressed cucumber slices against her eyes. She had to get the swelling down before her meeting with Princess Rebecca at Foster and Foster. They’d given her two days to allow for jet lag. They didn’t allow for heart-lag.

Since she’d cried more than she’d slept for the past two days, she admitted it might have been better to meet with Rebecca as soon as she’d gotten off the plane. The cucumbers could only do so much.

“Allergies,” she answered, when the woman took one look at Jordan’s face—the dark circles under her eyes and the pillows that used to be her eyelids—and asked what had happened to her. “Some crazy species of…something,” she nearly said Highlander, “didn’t like me, while I was in the Highlands.”

The side of Rebecca’s nose curled. “Well, then, maybe it will be a good thing…not to be sent back again.”

Jordan hated the way the woman made every statement feel like an ax hanging over her head. But in a few minutes, she might not have to worry about it anymore.

She turned on the projection and inserted her flash drive into the port. “I’m sorry I haven’t had time to get them organized. I’ll just flip through them quickly and stop on the ones I think you’ll like.”

Rebecca lowered herself into the chair at the head of the conference table and made a noise to show Jordan what she thought of that before she began her usual “I’m bored and unhappy” fidgeting. Jordan preferred to think of it as an oink.

She might have suggested that the director move to another chair in order to view the photos better, but the princess wasn’t the type who would sacrifice her throne for anything.

The first picture to load was the close-up of her mother. Rebecca’s chair stopped squeaking. Jordan ignored her and took a couple of seconds to try and see her mother through Kerry’s eyes. She was shocked to find that it took no effort at all.

“Sorry. I just dragged files onto the flash without looking at them. I don’t know how I missed the date on this one. Give me just a minute.”

“Jordan.”

“What?”

“I like this. This has… This has something… She’s not pretty by any means—”

“She’s beautiful,” Jordan argued, irritated the woman had dared judge her mother.”

Rebecca’s voice changed to something almost human. “That’s it exactly. She is beautiful.”

“That’s what being in love does to people. It makes them…beautiful.”

“And falling in love with Scotland can make anyone beautiful! I love it!” The squeaking started again, but this time, Rebecca was dancing with excitement. And having caused that excitement, Jordan decided to delay the news that she had no intention of selling the photo of her mother.

“I’m interested to see what else you have,” the director said. Coming from her, it meant she was ecstatic.

Jordan took her time, not just to torture her boss, but because she dreaded what the pictures of Kerry would do to her. If she so much as sniffed, Rebecca would pounce on her like a shark smelling blood.

There were a few shots she’d taken at the airport she knew were nothing special, so she flipped through them quickly. The first picture of The Blacksmith statue caught her breath. It had only been four days since she’d seen that face, but it all came flooding back to her. She could almost feel his forehead pressed against hers—she inside Catherine’s truck and Kerry standing in front of the door, holding it closed, telling her she had to go home alone so he could be a gentleman.

She flipped through more shots of the statue, then explained who the man was.

“Jeez, Jordan. It sounds like you knew him. Go a little overboard in your research, did you?”

In unison, the two of them gasped at the first shot of Kerry.

“Ho! Baby! Come to mama.” Rebecca jumped out of her chair and hurried over to stand close to Kerry. It made Jordan want to turn off the machine. “We can start with the woman. She’s in love. Being in love makes you beautiful. We switch to this guy. Falling in love with Scotland will make you beautiful, too.” She actually rubbed the screen where Kerry’s knee was.

Jordan grabbed the thumb drive and yanked it out of the machine, then shut down everything still on display. “Sorry, Princess, he’s mine. All mine, actually. So’s the woman. And they’re not for sale.”

“Jordan. Come on. It’s not as if the man were standing here. I didn’t touch him.” Rebecca headed back to her throne as if denying her was unthinkable. “I’ll behave. Show me what else you have.”

Jordan shoved the drive into her bag and swung it over her shoulder.

The other woman’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. Her mouth gaped for a moment, then she growled. “Look, Jordan. You can forget about turning in your receipts if you don’t hand over the photos. No airfare. No hotel. You can’t afford to cover all that. I’ve seen what we’ve been paying you.”

Jordan walked into the hall and kept walking, luring her boss out.

“Jordan, stop!”

All heads turned. Jordan finally stopped and faced the woman.

“You’re a bully, Rebecca. And people always find a way to get rid of bullies. Foster and Foster won’t appreciate you running off the talent. And all of these people are just waiting for the chance to spread the news.” She turned to the employees standing in their doorways and peaking over to tops of their cubicles. “Be careful. She’s humiliated. She’ll be desperate. Don’t let her win.”

~ ~ ~

Walking back to the train station, Jordan felt like her feet barely touched the ground. It wasn’t because she’d told off the schoolyard bully, it was because she had seen Kerry’s face again, remembered what she’d promised to remember—that no matter where he was, he loved her.

And her mother loved her too. A few change overs, and she could be in Iowa by dinner time. And if she was lucky, she could sleep most of the way.