Highland Dew

by Barrett Magill

  He offered a blank stare and shook his head.

  She heard a knock.

  “Ms. MacDougall? I’m Karl Evans.” He walked to the bed. “How are you feeling, Gavin?”

  “Better’n yesterday.”

  He used a small flashlight to check his eyes. “I’m going to chat with your daughter for a minute. Shall we?” He gestured to the hall.

  “I think the bleeding we saw on the x-ray is resolving without treatment, and his wound is healing. I’m not sure if his cognition or balance are satisfactory, so we’ve had the physical therapist come up a couple of times. Gavin is still quite unsteady.”

  “I’m surprised. He’s used a walking stick for a year or so, he only had one fall…that I know of. My only concern is that he wanders sometimes.”

  “Since his physical condition is quite good for his age, safety is the major concern. I’m reluctant to send him home just yet and would advise some aftercare for rehabilitation.”

  Fiona leaned back against the wall. “Oh. I didn’t realize…how long would he need that?”

  “Of course that depends on his progress. Some folks move quickly in order to get home. On the other hand, some have trouble with orientation and focus, and it’s more difficult. Our local source is managed by a geriatric specialist with excellent credentials. I have great faith in him.”

  Her head spun with “what-ifs” and worst-case scenarios. “Can I think about this a little?”

  “Of course. He’ll need a bit more therapy, and I’d like an occupational therapist to work with him as well.”

  She walked the hall for a few minutes and gathered her thoughts. There were so many questions she needed to ask whenever he was in a good space. She hoped today was one of those.

  ****

  “Please come in, Reggie.” Leo stood in his office doorway looking frail. “I know you need to get to the airport, so I’ll be quick.”

  “I’m all packed, and the flight doesn’t depart for three hours.” She sat across from him and fidgeted with the tabs on her jacket. After talking to Curtis, she’d jotted down a few quotes that sounded reasonable, and composed a letter to corporate headquarters. She hoped it sounded contrite and humble. Curtis had convinced her that she’d never get a lawyer to take the case. Her best bet was to negotiate a deal and try to get some kind of compensation.

  “I’ve reviewed your letter with Ari. You know how much my people are family to me and that I hate to see anyone unhappy. Since I haven’t had an opportunity to sit down with Bryce, and my doctor won’t allow me to travel yet, I’ve asked her to come home and discuss this.”

  Reggie looked up. This isn’t good. She definitely did not want to meet with them both. “I see.” She swallowed the last moisture in her throat.

  “In the meantime, I’d like you to return to San Francisco and see who you’d recommend for your current position there—”

  “What? Are you…?”

  He smiled. “No. I’m looking at a promotion to another level. There are still some details I need to work out, but it shouldn’t take more than a week or two. In that time, I’d like you to carefully look at what we may need in the west coast office that would prepare it for the additional business I hope to sign from Scotland.” He stood.

  Reggie got to her feet. “That sounds great, I suppose a promotion would include a change in benefits.” She wasn’t naïve enough to let go for just that.

  “Of course, it’ll be a whole new contract. Thanks for bringing this to me. I appreciate your trust.” He walked around and shook her hand. “Have a safe trip.”

  So much for her counter offer…

  ****

  Bryce dried her hair and hung up the towel. She’d spent the past two hours walking around Craigellachie looking at cottages, yards, and small businesses. It might not be exactly where she would want to stay, but it was convenient and familiar.

  With nothing on her schedule, she might as well stay casual. She pulled on a clean T-shirt and shorts, and stretched out on the bed. The past twenty-four hours had been a crazy roller-coaster. Weeks of driving and researching had suddenly become very frenetic. It had filled her with both anticipation and hope, but nothing was guaranteed. Not yet. Anything could happen with Fiona and her dad, not to mention Murray.

  But even if they didn’t want to deal with GDD or restart the distillery, she felt determined to take at least three months to try life in Scotland.

  Her eyes were heavy and the breeze from the river tickled her still-damp legs when her phone rang.

  She jerked up and grabbed it. “Hello?”

  “Good afternoon, Bryce.” Leo. “Am I interrupting?”

  She pushed up against the headboard. “Nope, perfect timing. I was thinking about writing to you.”

  He laughed. “I guess I saved you a letter.”

  “It’s good to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better, but I’m only back part-time and I still can’t drive or fly, otherwise I’d be there to visit you.”

  Despite the hierarchy of the corporation, Leo was fun to travel with. “I wish you could.”

  “There’s a dozen things I’m interested in asking you, but I also want you to review some business ideas. I’m not sure when you planned on returning, but if you’d be willing to fly back for a couple of days, I’d be grateful.”

  Her brain clicked in and ran through her list of projects. Nothing urgent except Fiona…and that was personal. “I think I can do that. There are a few things pending, but not urgently. Let me check in with Ian and make some arrangements.”

  “Thank you, Bryce. I hope you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t very important.”

  “Yes, sir, I know. I’ll let Margaret know as soon as I have a reservation.”

  “Good. Safe travels.” He hung up.

  She stared at the phone. The only thing she could imagine as urgent would have to do with Reggie. Dammit. What the hell had she done?

  She needed to call Ian first, then Fiona. What would she tell her?

  Chapter Thirty

  Her dad was sitting in a chair by the window and a nurse tucked a blanket around his legs. A lunch tray sat on the over-bed table in front of him.

  “That looks good.” Fiona pulled a chair next to him. The tray held a bowl of thick soup with vegetables and beef. A piece of wheat bread and a bowl of applesauce completed the meal.

  He leaned toward her and whispered, “You know, the food’s not half bad.” He winked.

  “I’m glad. Can we talk a bit whilst you eat?” She turned the chair to face him.

  He nodded.

  “First, some good news. Bryce…you remember the American? Well, after the meeting we had the other night—”

  “Aye, the lads from Speyside.”

  She blinked. “Er…yes, exactly. They were so pleased with the samples of the Dew, that Bryce got us a loan to cover the outstanding debt.”

  He looked up, paused, then smiled. “That is good news!”

  “We will arrange to ship two barrels of the 1998 for bottling and sale, and decide what we want to do next. Dad, what would you like to do?”

  He wiped his chin and then sipped some tea. “First, I want the sign changed. MacDougall Family—Distillers of Fine Whisky. Then I want David to see if he can get you put in charge legally. We can’t risk any more accidents.”

  She took his hand. “Dad, you’re doing much better, we don’t need—”

  “I know. But let’s do it my way anyway.”

  “All right. What do you think about reopening the distillery? Would you rather just sell what we have?”

  He gazed out the window for several moments, and she worried that the lucidity was fading. Instead he scrubbed his face with both hands and turned to her.

  “Right now, I’d like to get things back to running the way they were, but I’m not sure I didn’t scare off some of the boys by acting daft. And I worry that I might get worse. There are so many details.”

  “Well, what abou
t Murray?”

  “What about him?” His face got pale.

  “I thought he was your foreman, right-hand man. Don’t you think he could help?” She decided not to mention the fire just yet. It wouldn’t help to upset him.

  “I’ve known the man for many a year, but I’m afraid it was more me helping him. Poor Murray had some war injuries that made him a little off in his own way. I took him in when he couldn’t get decent work.”

  Fiona sat up straighter. Was she hearing correctly?

  “But I thought all this time since Mum died, he was taking care of you.”

  “He was…some. I felt so lost without Mary, and Murray made sure I’d get something to eat or get something to help me sleep. Just good company, you know?”

  Something niggled in the back of her mind. “I didn’t know you had trouble sleeping. It seemed to me, you dropped off quite easily—even in the middle of a sentence.”

  He chuckled. “Well, sometimes I do. But mostly it’s because of the sleeping tonic. I’ll say I’ve missed that being stuck in here.”

  “Dad, where do you get the, uh, tonic?”

  He shook his head and put the tea cup down. “Long story, but after the Falklands we both had some shell shock, and we set about looking for something to help. You remember the lad so keen on the herbs and botanicals? He suggested a few that helped a little, but we added some whisky. That did the trick.”

  “What herbs?”

  “It’s in a dropper bottle either with Murray or in the kitchen. I think there’s some melatonin and Valerian and some others I can’t remember. But when he mixed it with a little of the cask strength we put in a couple of bottles, it worked great.”

  I’ll bet, but how do those things react in alcohol?

  She stood and paced a bit. That would answer some of her questions about his mental state and why he seemed more alert after being in the hospital with a head injury. Wait. The whisky bottle on the desk after the fire…it had no label.

  “Dad, I need to run and do some errands, but I’ll be back. Do the exercises and get stronger. I need you.” She kissed his cheek and hurried out.

  ****

  Reggie took a nonstop flight to San Francisco. First class. Challenge that expense. The flight attendant brought her second cocktail as she looked over the list of potential replacements for her position. None were as versatile or attractive, but a few of the younger ones could be trained. She sipped the vodka tonic and tapped her pen. A promotion, Leo had said. That certainly must mean he believed she had a case and wanted to placate her. Good.

  In truth, she’d had some remorse over her character assassination of a good friend, and she felt guilty about going behind her back. Fiona MacDougall was attractive, but not necessarily available. Certainly not worth losing a commission over.

  The tops of those fluffy white clouds reminded her of a commercial for bathroom tissue. She snickered. The vodka soothed the rough edges nicely. She took another sip and scribbled a note on top of her list. Note to self: check out flying lessons.

  Inspired, she started a new list of goals. With a new position, she might as well set her sights on the next plateau. And her promise to keep in touch with Matt Takata.

  “Would you care for another drink, ma’am?”

  “Yes, please. And do you have anything to nosh on?”

  Reggie pushed her seat back farther. She thought about poor Joe, her Highland fling. He did wonders for her ego and libido. She might need to dip in that pool again.

  ****

  Bryce scratched the last thing off her list and reviewed her progress. Secured the next four days at the inn, arranged the rental car stay in Airdrie, confirmed a flight reservation for Thursday afternoon, and packed. After she got to Chicago, she’d call her folks and maybe run down for a quick visit.

  The phone lay still beside her. She wanted to explain her trip in person, but wasn’t sure how Fiona might react to her plan. Still, it was foolish to wait. Leo would never have asked if it wasn’t important, and besides, it would only be a few days.

  “Hello, Fiona? It’s Bryce, I wondered if you had time—”

  “Hi, you. I just walked in.”

  “Great, could I swing by for a few minutes?”

  “Yes, I’m glad you can, because I wanted to ask you something.”

  She pulled on her shoes, grabbed her bag, and hurried out. The drive would give her about fifteen minutes to arrange her thoughts. The sun poked through and made spots in the fields glow bright green between the shadowed areas. Spring birdsong floated on the breeze and made her smile. Why had she never noticed these things normally? Too much racing around, she surmised.

  The speed of traffic slowed as she entered Archiestown. The hotel where they’d had lunch sat across from the main square. As she passed, she spotted a young girl—no more than seven or eight—with a wagon full of spring flower bouquets.

  She pulled close to her. “Hello. May I buy some of your flowers?”

  “I was taking them to the market, but I suppose you could.” She picked up two bunches, one a mix of several colors, and the other just yellow and white.

  “I really like the mixed colors. They’re so pretty. How much?’

  The girl handed over the flowers and began to count on her fingers as she chewed her lip.

  Bryce handed her a five-pound note. “Will this be enough?”

  Her eyes lit up. “I can’t give you any change…”

  “That’s okay, you have a fun day. What’s your name?”

  “Helen.”

  “Thanks, Helen. I’m Bryce. See you.”

  She drove on, occasionally glancing at the large bouquet of fresh flowers. I should do this every day.

  Fiona’s car was near the back door, and Bryce parked next to it. She stuck her phone in her pocket, grabbed the flowers, and trotted up the back steps.

  “Hello?”

  “Come in.”

  Fiona was drying her hands in the kitchen, and smiled when she saw the flowers. “Where on earth did you find those?”

  “Helen sold them to me on her way to market. I couldn’t resist her red braids and dimples.”

  Fiona laughed and took the flowers to the sink. “I had no idea the regional sales manager had such a soft spot.”

  Bryce followed her to the sink and watched her arrange the flowers in a tall, green, glass jar. Her hands were gentle and delicate as they pushed and pulled each bloom to the correct spot. Fiona stepped back to assess her handiwork.

  “I think that spot has been dormant for too long to remember.” Bryce had whispered the thought, but Fiona heard her.

  “Why would you say that? I was joking.”

  “I’m not sure. Probably just fatigue.” She pointed to the arrangement. “They look gorgeous. You might have missed your calling.”

  “I don’t think it would be flower arranging. Come sit and have some iced tea.”

  They sat at the kitchen table across from each other. “Have you heard anything about your dad?”

  “Yes, I went up there right after I left you. He’s doing well and they’re not worried about the shadow on the x-ray, but the doctor wants him to stay a few days for some therapy. After that, he may want him to do some aftercare rehabilitation because of the falls.”

  “Mostly good news, I guess.” Fiona had a worried look about something. “What else?”

  “It may be nothing, but Dad was quite lucid the whole time, but when I asked him about having Murray help get the business back on its feet, he surprised me. It seems they both had a rough time when they were discharged from service—he describes it as shell shock. Anyway, the two of them concocted some herbal sedative mixed with whisky that he claims took the edge off and let him sleep.” She put her glass down and looked across the table. “I think that might be what was in the bottle Murray left on the desk, and I think it might have something to do with his mental state.”

  “Wow. That’s a little scary. If they’re both using it, it might explain why the b
usiness fell apart.”

  “I know. I haven’t had time to look around, but I wanted to let you know that this morning Dad told me he wanted the sign fixed and a legal document to give me control of the business. He was pleased about getting the bills paid, your loan, and the whisky sale.”

  “That is great news! I’m really happy for you…if you’re sure you want to take this on.”

  “I’m not sure I would have, but your encouragement and support along with Dad’s interest have given me some courage.”

  “I’m glad. I wanted to let you know I’ll be out of town for a few days, but when I get back, I’m all in.”

  Her face darkened, and Bryce grabbed her hand before she could jump up. “Don’t go there. Listen to me. Leo summoned me home for some big corporate problem since he can’t fly over yet. I’m afraid it may have to do with Reggie.”

  She relaxed. “What more would she have done?”

  “I don’t know, and neither does Ian. But I’ll fly out tomorrow and hopefully be back by Monday.”

  “You scare me.”

  “I know, that’s why I wanted to come over and tell you in person. I want you to trust me, and I know that it will take time.”

  Fiona squeezed her hand and nodded.

  “Since your dad is safe, what say we go over to the hotel in Archiestown and grab a bite?” Bryce smiled.

  “Is that so you can see Helen?” Fiona sneered.

  “Well…yeah.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Bryce awoke to silence, sunshine, and crown moldings. She blinked several times before it all came back to her, the time adjustment, hordes of travelers at Heathrow and O’Hare, and the soundproof black limo Leo had sent for her.

  The city of big shoulders. Chicago.

  From the window, the rising sun reflected off the bright blue sky and Lake Michigan water. Below lay Monroe Harbor, Millennium Park, and the Buckingham Fountain. Leave it to Leo to pick the grand Blackstone Hotel, an elegant old building.

  The clock on the desk read seven fifteen, so she had time to eat before walking to the office.