Absolute Zero

by Anlyn Hansell

This was not an Inn.

  And who was the beautiful woman and the younger boy laughing in the photo along with Ian?

  Icy prickles pretty much overtook her body as she wandered toward what appeared to be a closet door. She opened it slowly, peering in and finding two rows of suits, dress shirts, casual pants, an entire rack of baseball caps and men’s shoes neatly lined up on the floor.

  “Oh, hell no,” she breathed out as she stepped into the walk in before reaching in and fumbling through her purse for her phone.

  Her finger swept the screen and immediately she searched for and found one of only several phone numbers. Her first attempt was futile, seeing she was in a foreign country. She added the country code and waited for a few moments before a strange female voice informed her that the call was being connected.

  “Well…hello there. Where the hell have you been? I called you last night,” Beth started before Anne interrupted her.

  “I’m in Scotland,” she practically hissed out.

  “What?! You sound like you’re in a tunnel,” Beth stated.

  “I feel like I’m in a tunnel,” Anne answered back.

  “Did you say you’re in Scotland?”

  “Yes. I think I may have been brought here under false pretenses,” she whispered as she stood inside Ian McClellan’s closet.

  “What are you talking about? Anne? Stop whispering. It’s hard enough to hear you as is. Look, I only have a few minutes. I have a student coming in any second now. Tell me what the heck is going on.”

  “I…well, I thought I was coming here to consult on a project, I flew in just now and I thought they were putting me up in a Hotel or maybe an Inn, but apparently I was mistaken. I’m in Ian’s house.”

  “You’re in Roddy’s house? My, my…”

  “Shut up, Beth. What am I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know. Thank him for his hospitality?” she quipped, much to Anne’s disgust.

  “She put me in his room.”

  “Who is she?” Beth asked.

  “I don’t know, maybe his housekeeper? She doesn’t speak English. I told her I screwed goats. I’m losing my mind…”

  “You told her…never mind,” she laughed out. “What’s so wrong about staying at his house, anyway?” she asked before stopping abruptly. “Wait. Hold up. Are you…did you…?” Anne? Is there anything going on between the two of you?”

  She cleared her throat nervously before attempting to speak. “Umm…yeah,” she drew out the last word.

  “Oooohhhhhhh. Hmm. And you didn’t tell me?” she admonished.

  “We haven’t talked in a while…” Anne answered feebly.

  “Right.” Beth answered in a short, clipped tone.

  “Listen, we can talk about that some other time, right now, I really need you to just…listen.” Anne stated in a low tone, waiting for an acknowledgment of some kind on the other end and receiving silence instead.

  “Beth?” she asked after a few moments.

  “I’m listening. Hurry up, though…”

  “Ok. I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, but…you’re across the country and I highly doubt you would say anything and I trust you and all…”

  “Anne? Babe? Please? Hurry?”

  “Right,” she breathed out. “So, there’s this project, similar to the one I told you about when I worked in California? The previous Lab Manager was working on it and it’s almost identical to the formula I developed and they asked me if I would continue on with his project. I didn’t tell them I already worked on something similar – I thought they might ask questions. So, anyway, Ron – the old Lab Manager had a nervous breakdown or something, he’s in an institution somewhere. I started working on the formula again; I asked for funding and found out that Ian does not want me to work on it, right? But the Operations Manager does. I was going to tell him ‘no’, I just don’t feel right going behind Ian’s back, especially since, you know…new developments in our um…I don’t want to call it a relationship, not really sure what it is, to tell you the truth…” she trailed off.

  “Keep going.” Beth commanded.

  “So the Operations Manager – Rand?”

  “Blair Underwood?”

  “Yeah…whatever, anyway, he pulls me into the office on Monday and tells me that Ian is thinking of selling the American facility, he swears me to secrecy so now I know but I’m not supposed to know. He says the employees will lose their minds, and I can tell you – he’s right. Rand seems to think we have a chance of keeping the facility if this project is successful. So I told him yes. I told him I would work on it. Now I’m in Ian’s house. He hasn’t seen fit to tell me he’s thinking of putting me out of a job because he’s too busy screwing my brains out. I’m pissed off but I can’t say anything. What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t yell at him, that’ll only get Rand in trouble,” Anne took a deep breath and waited for Beth’s response.

  “Sooo…you’re telling me that you think Ian should reveal confidential information about his company because you have an intimate relationship with him?” Beth asked.

  Anne stood in the closet, silence surrounding her as Beth’s words sunk in to her brain.

  “Wow,” she finally whispered after a few breaths. “You are so good.”

  “It pays to have a Guidance Counselor as a best friend,” Beth stated. “But I think you get the point, right?”

  “Yes. Thank you. Maybe he’ll tell me in his own time,” Anne answered as her rational mind took over once again.

  “My appointment is here. Do me a favor?” Beth asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “While you’re there, please snap a picture of this guy. Preferably with his kilt on.”

  “I’ll try,” Anne laughed out.

  “Love you,” she heard before the connection clicked.

  *****

  “Where is she?”

  “In yer closet, talking to herself,” she answered in a low tone.

  “What?”

  “I think she’s talking on the phone. I hope she’s talking on the phone,” Nelina added. “When are you coming home? I don’t think I can do this much longer. She told me she screws goats! I had to bite my cheek to stop from laughing.”

  “She what?!”

  “I’ll tell you later. When are you coming home?” she whispered into the phone.

  “I’m walking into a meeting right now. I’d say this one is about an hour. I’ll be home right after that,” he stated. “Whatever you do, do not speak English to her. She has a mouth. She’s a stubborn thing and she will drive you dafty. She’ll want to leave when she figures out she’s in my home. Trust me. You don’t want to argue with her.”

  *****

  After placing her trunk in the bedroom furthest down the hall from Ian’s and hanging up her garment bag, she descended the rather grand staircase, carefully taking in the scenery around her. The house was definitely old, but extremely well maintained and appointed with all modern amenities. Dark wood wainscoting pretty much crept up every wall and pale yellow paint took over from the wood to the ceiling. It was masculine, yet elegant at the same time. Her hand trailed over the polished wood bannister as walked down slowly, listening for any sign of her non-English speaking companion.

  A clang sounded followed by some rustling from the back of the home as she wandered through a vast living room complete with quite possibly the most ornate stone fireplace gracing the wall opposite her. The furniture was dark, complementing the wood trim in the room, but contrasting the pale walls. Paintings vied for wall space with black and white photographs of all shapes and sizes piquing her curiosity but not deterring her path of travel.

  She quietly stepped into a rather large kitchen, practically salivating at the sight. This was definitely a chef’s kitchen. Commercial grade equipment lined the walls, a huge island split the room in two and the windows surrounding the perimeter of the room lent a soft glow on each and every stainless steel surface. It was practical but yet the cabinets and the sma
ll details throughout the room lent it an almost homey feel. Oh, the fun she could have in this room, she thought before tamping down her excitement. This was Ian’s home, she reminded herself.

  The smaller woman walked in from a side room carrying a few bags that appeared to be empty. She immediately smiled at Anne warmly, causing a crooked smile to appear on Anne’s face.

  “Ah…can I get a drink?” she said before her brows furrowed. The woman only cocked her head to the side.

  “Ahh…” Anne made a semi-circular shape of her hand and pretended to drink from it. “A drink?” she stated. Maybe they could play charades? How fun! How stupid…

  “Ahh!” The woman’s eyes lit up and she motioned for Anne to come near. She opened a cabinet filled with liquor bottles.

  “No! No…water? Agua? Umm…” she made a waving motion with her hand. “Wahhhter…”

  The woman only stood with a look of complete concentration on Anne’s hand motions. She shook her head and shrugged.

  “Never mind,” Anne breathed out, wandering around the island and turning on the tap. Water spewed forth and she pointed at it. “Can I get a glass?” She made the semi-circle with her hand again.

  The woman nodded and walked over to a cabinet and grabbed a glass. This was good. This was progress, Anne thought as she accepted the delicate glass and filled it before taking a sip.

  The woman was motioning with her wrist and then pointing into the small room she had just walked in from. Anne followed her lead and angled her body to look inside. It was filled with what appeared to be food. “It’s a pantry…um, Ok?” she looked at the woman with questioning eyes. The woman held one finger up and quickly walked to the refrigerator, opening the double doors and pointing inside. It was stuffed full with paper wrapped packages, fruit and vegetables. The woman was nodding her head and pointing.

  “It’s food. That’s…great. Do you want me to cook something? Are you asking me if I want you to cook me something? I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”

  “Tha seo doirbh,” the woman muttered as she opened a cabinet and pointed at the huge array of gleaming cookware nestled on the shelves.

  “You want to show me your pots and pans? They are very nice. Maybe you could smack me upside the head with one of them because I am losing my godforsaken mind right now,” Anne smiled before shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the situation.

  The woman seemed to clamp her lips in frustration as she pointed to the pantry and the refrigerator once again.

  “What are you telling me? Do you want to have a food fight? Do you do that in Scotland?” she snorted in amusement before leveling a serious glare in the woman’s direction. “Might I ask where your boss is? I’d really like to talk to him right now. Actually I’d really like to call the police on his idiot ass. Do you dial 911 in this country? Do you think this would be considered kidnapping? Do you have any idea how frustrating this is? No, of course you don’t. You’re looking at me like I have two heads. This is great,” she breathed out before a loud bang jolted her and caused her body to turn toward the source of the sound. A lanky teenager wandered in and stopped immediately when he spotted Anne.

  “Ahhh…” his eyes wandered from Anne to the woman behind her causing Anne to turn and catch the woman’s disgusted look and subsequent eye roll. Anne immediately turned toward the young man once again.

  “Hello,” he stated tentatively.

  “Please tell me you speak English.” Anne stated.

  “I speak English,” he answered with a serious expression.

  “Hey Nelina,” he gave a quick jerk of his head to acknowledge her.

  “So, who are you?” he asked, focusing his attention on Anne once again.

  “I’m Anne.”

  “You’re American,” he stated before his eyes widened slightly. “Ohhh…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he shrugged as his eyes once again fixed on the woman behind Anne. “Sooo…you’re here for a visit?” he asked, his expression inscrutable.

  “I…no? I mean, I think I’m here to work, but now…I don’t know,” Anne stammered out, watching him closely.

  “Hmm. So you work for Dunmed?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re from America…” he stated more to himself than her.

  “Yes,” she answered, realizing why he suddenly looked familiar to her. He was the boy in the picture in Ian’s room.

  “Who are you?” she asked in an almost cautious voice.

  “I’m Braden. I guess you could call me Ian’s son.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The glass sort of slipped from her suddenly lax fingers, falling to her foot, bouncing and spewing water all over her shoe and the surrounding floor.

  “Oh! Ya eejit! What the…Braden! I swear!” the woman’s voice exclaimed in the background as Anne stood frozen, her eyes still staring at the young man.

  “I’m not lying! It’s sort of true. I’m sorry, you should see your face right now,” he commented casually to Anne. “He’s my uncle, really, but he’s more like a da to me…”

  Anne blinked, trying to comprehend, trying to get at least some air into her suddenly deflated lungs.

  “Oh my god,” she gasped, realizing finally that she dropped the glass. She looked down to see…Nelina wiping the floor with a paper towel below her. She was mumbling something under her breath.

  Her eyes affixed to Braden once again.

  “Sorry about that,” he shrugged. “So, are ya dating my uncle?”

  “Braden! Go somewhere…anywhere. Off with ya now…” Anne could hear Nelina grate out below her.

  “You speak English.” Anne stated, fixing a glare in her direction.

  A loud sigh sounded before her head snapped up and her eyes connected with Anne’s.

  “He told me to do it. I’m sorry. He said you’d argue with me,” she stated as she hefted herself up and stood to face her.

  Anne let out a slow breath. “He’s very smart,” Anne started. “And sneaky…totally immature, completely deceptive,” she added under her breath. “I won’t take it out on you, Nelina. I’ll let him have it when he gets home. Whenever that is…” she stated softly.

  “Oh, he’s in a meeting. Believe me, he tried to get out of it, but…he’s just hoora busy right now,” she stated in a soft brogue.

  “Right. Well, I don’t suppose you could call Paden and have him pick me up, take me to a Hotel?” she asked with a hopeful expression.

  “Not unless I want to get sacked,” she answered seriously before a smile crinkled her features. “I’m joking. Ian’s a good lad. The verra best. He went to an awful bit of trouble for you, ya know. I was trying to show you…he told me you like to cook? He bought the pots and pans for you, had me stock the pantry and refrigerator.”

  “Ooo, what are ya cookin’? I like to eat…” Braden chimed in.

  “Did I not say off with ya? What are you doing here, anyway?” Nelina shot a frown his way.

  “I came to play a bit of X-Box. Don’t tell Mum, she thinks I went to the Library,” he answered.

  “Well get to it then,” she flicked her wrist in his direction.

  “Fine. Can I stay for dinner? Mum can’t boil water. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in forever,” he emphasized, his boyishly handsome face turned toward Anne. He looked so earnest, her face broke into a hesitant smile.

  “Sure,” she stated. Besides, that would piss McClellan off. Knowing him, he’d probably try to lure her into a bedroom as soon as he came home…Not possible with his nephew lurking about.

  “That’s quality,” Braden commented, much to Anne’s confusion. She watched him walk from the room. Quality?

  “So let me show you what we have, here,” Nelina’s voice caused Anne to turn her way.

  “This is so much better,” Anne mumbled as she watched Nelina pull out the wrapped packages from the refrigerator. “I was getting a bit frustrated there, I didn’t mean to swear.”
<
br />   “That’s all right. I was having a hard time not laughing,” Nelina answered as she laid out the packages on the island.

  Anne’s fingers combed through her short hair before one hand held her forehead. “I was just joking about the goat thing,” she stated, clearly embarrassed by the memory.

  “I should certainly hope so,” Nelina laughed out.

  *****

  Anne stirred the mustard mixture, adding a few chopped herbs and a small amount of minced garlic later as she stood in the kitchen, alone with her thoughts.

  She should be mad. She should be furious. And yet… it was so…sweet. In a completely deceptive way, but still…

  She busied herself smearing the mixture on the lamb chops and placing them on a rack, noting the fact that every piece of cookware appeared brand new. Not a scratch or a stain on any of it. According to Nelina; he bought her this, and he must have spent a fortune. The name on the cookware was high dollar, the very best quality and an involuntary smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she worked. If she didn’t want to strangle him for everything else, she might actually want to kiss him for this.

  The back door was opening, causing her head to swivel in alarm toward the sound.

  A brunette wandered in, the same beautiful woman from the picture up in Ian’s room…a small jolt of apprehension rushed through Anne as her hands froze in mid-motion.

  “Hello,” the brunette stated and smiled, her expression not in the least shocked to find a strange woman standing before her, or at least it seemed that way to Anne.

  “Ah…hi,” Anne said absently.

  “I’m Lena, Ian’s sister? Braden’s Mum…”

  “Oooh…” Anne breathed out; relief seemed to wash through her for some reason.

  “Braden called me. Said he was having dinner at his uncles’ house and I thought there must be something up. Ian doesn’t cook. He eats out every night of the week. So here I am. And you are…?”

  “Um…Anne? Anne Bennett. I would ah…shake your hand, but…” she raised her hands to show the paste slathered all over them.

  “No worries,” Lena laughed. “So, from your accent I take it you’re American?”