TWO HOURS LATER, after a nap, a few stretching exercises, and a hot shower, she stood in front of the floor-length mirror and slipped on a burgundy peplum jacket that fit snuggly across her chest and waist.
Should I wear my hair up or down?
She twisted and fiddled, trying to decide. The black, wool gabardine pants, suede lace-up, three-inch heels, and matching jacket demanded a fashionable up-do. More twisting, a clip, and a few spritzes of hairspray followed by a quick turn of her head this way and that. The sides might fall after a couple of hours, but for now, the style looked perfect.
Her wedding band glinted in the firelight. How odd. She hadn’t thought of herself as married for two years. Yet the ring sent a clear I’m-not-available signal. She didn’t want complications, explanations, or disappointments. Her focus had to be on her wine and her health.
The alarm on her phone beeped. Time to go.
Elliott’s rumbling voice met her when the elevator door opened in the brightly lit foyer. She followed the sound. Before entering the room, she snugged her ring-clad hand into the folds of her coat.
“That’s not true,” Louise said to a woman standing beside her.
The woman hugged her. “Selective memory, my dear Lou.”
With his crutches propped under his arm, Elliott double-thumbed his phone. A cream cashmere sweater and gray flannel trousers hugged his body tonight instead of a kilt. A short right pant leg overlapped the top of the walking boot. If he had an ounce of body fat, Meredith didn’t know where he hid it.
“There’s Meredith,” Louise said. “Come. I want you to meet Evelyn.”
Elliott glanced up and met her eyes. His recognition of her made his eyes change from dark chocolate to an even darker, more disturbing color. A flush heated her neck. She lowered her chin, hoping to hide her blushing skin. She breathed in, then out, summoned up a smile and flashed him a five-finger toodle-oo wave.
Evelyn stepped toward her, extending her hand and introduced herself. “Evelyn Graham.” Her handshake held the same warmth as her voice. “Louise said you’re from San Francisco. I was there last year, and I’m dying to go back. I even took a taxi down a crooked street.”
Meredith laughed. “Lombard Street. How fun. I haven’t been there since I was a kid.”
Louise’s fisted hands hugged her hips. “That’s one of the reasons she’s not going again without me.”
Evelyn chuckled, and her wispy, frosted bangs shook like fringe above her eyes. “It was a last-minute symposium. Lou had a house full of guests and couldn’t get away. She’s yet to let me forget.”
“What kind of symposium?” Meredith asked.
“Finance and economics.”
“And don’t listen to what she says about the economy or you’ll cry.” Elliott pocketed his phone and poured a glass of wine.
“Ev is an incredible teacher,” Louise said.
He handed the glass to Meredith. “Mean, too.”
“Oh, Elliott.” Louise gave his face a gentle cuff.
“Take her class and see for yourself,” he grumbled. “I bet there’s not an A in her grade book.”
“Do you teach economics?” Meredith asked.
“Dr. Graham is a full-professor at the University of Edinburgh,” Louise said with a distinct note of pride in her voice. She pointed at Elliott. “Don’t let this one fool you either. He probably told you he worked on a little horse farm in Kentucky. Well, Dr. Fraser happens to run one of the top three Thoroughbred operations in the world.”
He rotated his neck as if his collar were too tight. “Enough with the curricula vitae. Let’s go eat. Take your drinks with you. Lou, carry mine?” He nodded toward the door. “Ladies . . .”
Evelyn took Meredith’s arm and ushered her out of the library and into the hallway. “Elliott and I have known each other since we were children. He’s a charming man, but he’s misguided.”
Meredith quirked her brow at him. “How so?”
Louise grabbed her coat from the hall closet. “Don’t tell her, Ev. Let her find out for herself.”
Meredith had the distinct impression there was nothing misguided about Dr. Elliott Fraser. If anything, he appeared as subtle as a high-powered laser beam, and there was already a red dot on his current target. She brushed at the front of her jacket, feeling the heat.
Chapter Nine
Number One, Edinburgh – December 23
A FIFTEEN-MINUTE DRIVE through Edinburgh put them at Number One exactly at seven o’clock. The Michelin-starred restaurant had a reputation for world class cuisine, and Meredith drooled at the thought of eating their Barbary Duck, which she had read about in Wine Digest.
While the host seated the foursome at one of the onyx, red lacquer and velvet booths, Evelyn and Louise continued the story they’d started in the car.
Meredith picked up the wine menu. “I can’t believe he invited both of you to the Kentucky Derby.”
“And didn’t tell either of us,” Louise said. “We were stargazing. Who were you watching, Ev?”
“You were watching Princess Margaret and Lord Snowden. I was watching Bob Hope and the races.”
Elliott’s jaw dropped, looking comically surprised. “Watching the races? Are you serious? You’ve never watched a race in your life.”
“You know horses scare me,” Evelyn shot back.
His expression turned sour. “Second biggest mistake your father made was not putting you back on that horse after you fell off.”
Evelyn gave him a whatever-shrug.
“You know—” The waiter approached the table, and Elliott swallowed the rest of his sentence.
“Good evening, Dr. Graham, Dr. Fraser, Miss Louise, and pretty lady in red. What can I get for ye’ this evening? The usual?”
“Hello, Harvey,” Elliott said, “We’ll branch out tonight and take the Nonino Grappa Chardonnay, two Balvenie PortWoods, and Meredith, what would you like?”
“Planeta La Segreta Rosso, please.”
“And a dark fruity wine for the pretty lady in red,” Elliott said.
Meredith cocked her head, picking up the mingling aromas in the room. None of them enticed her sense of smell as much as the woodsy scent of the handsome Scotsman sitting beside her. “You know your wines.”
He pointed to the wine list. She read the description underneath her selection that he’d repeated to the waiter. “I can read upside down,” he said.
“But you never looked—”
Louise patted Elliott’s arm to draw his attention. “Back to Derby Day, love. We were watching you, not the races, because you looked so bored. But you weren’t bored for long, were you?”
Meredith closed the wine list, more curious than confused. “He was around the horses. How could he be bored?”
Evelyn tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, but the short curl fell into her face again. “It wasn’t the horses that kept him occupied. He found a Swedish model who spoke only a wee bit of English.”
“But our Elliott—” Louise continued, “—found a way to communicate with her for ten days.” She twiddled ten ring-clad fingers to make her point. “And would you believe, as soon as the model . . . what was her name, Ev?”
“Adrian or Brigetta or . . .” Evelyn put her finger to her cheek and focused on the black-framed pictures grouped on the wall to her right. Then she snapped her fingers. “Dagmar. That was her name. Right?”
“Eva,” Elliott said. “And she could speak English, just not fluently.”
“As soon as Dagmar,” Louise waved her hand as if brushing away something of little significance, “or whoever—” She rolled her eyes. “—left town, Elliott went to the farm’s condo in Naples, Florida, for a week to recuperate.”
Meredith covered her mouth with her hand in a losing effort to catch the laugh bubbling out. She’d never met a man who could sit at a table with three women and subject himself to such harassment. He timed every grimace, growl, grin, or glittery-eyed glance to elicit a touch of the arm, a pat
on the cheek, or a smile. He appeared in complete control, the consummate actor in a theater-in-the-round production. The audience loved him, and he loved the audience.
Throughout dinner and after-dinner drinks, the girls—as Elliott called them—continued to tell stories, teasing him about his starched khakis and weekly barber appointments. Once when Louise returned from the restroom, she came up behind him and ran her fingers through his hair.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Don’t stop.”
Every strand dropped back into place when she removed her hand. “Honey, that’s as far as I go.” She winked at Meredith who fidgeted in her seat, wishing she could feel the rich texture of his graying hair glide through her fingers.
Elliott gave her an amused chuckle. “See what I have to put up with.”
Meredith lowered her chin and tilted her head, inviting Louise into a conspiratorial conversation all the while gazing at Elliott. “From what I can see, he adores the attention.”
“Elliott loves women, and he craves them all to himself. If there were another man at the table, he’d pout. He hates to share. I think that’s why he enjoys spending so much time with Ev and me. No men to compete with.”
“If I have this figured out correctly, Elliott, you and Louise met while you were undergraduate students at Edinburgh, right?”
“In a medieval literature class,” he said.
“Then how did you meet Evelyn? Did you go to grammar school together or were your parents’ friends?”
A hush fell over the group, and Evelyn’s face tightened.
Elliott’s hand twitched, sloshing the whiskey in the glass he held. His face shut down as if a door had slammed.
“Both,” Evelyn said under her breath but loud enough for Meredith to hear. Then, she mouthed the words, “We don’t talk about the parents.”
Meredith lifted her feet, having stepped into a mess no one wanted to talk about; a mess that most likely defined her dinner companions. I doubt I’ll ever get that story.
Chapter Ten
Louise’s B&B – December 23
THE FOURSOME ENTERED the B&B with Elliott reciting a poem.
“Fare-thee-weel thou first and fairest! Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!” His thick and creamy baritone voice hugged Meredith in a sensual embrace. The timbre sent vibrations throughout the foyer, causing a gentle clinking of the chandelier’s crystals.
“Oh, no,” Evelyn groaned.
Louise put her arm around Meredith’s shoulder. “All it takes is a wee dram and he starts quoting Rabbie. He can go on for hours.”
“Ae fareweeli alas, forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee.”
“I’ve heard his entire collection hundreds of times. I’m going to bed before he starts singing off-key. Goodnight,” Evelyn said.
Louise locked the front door and followed Evelyn to their first floor owners’ suite, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t bore Meredith. She’s my guest.”
He winked at Meredith. “I’ve never intentionally bored a woman, and I don’t sing off-key.” Elliott quieted. When the sound of a closing door filtered down the hallway, he continued in a lowered voice, “I have been known to annoy the girls enough to send them off to bed early.”
“Intentionally?” Meredith teased.
He put his hand across his chest. “Nay, hen. But now that we’re alone, how about a nightcap? I know where Lou hides a bottle of Richard Hennessy. I’ll even stoke the fire.”
The double entendre was as pointed as a fireplace poker.
Meredith took a calming yoga breath and said on an exhale, “I can’t pass up a glass of cognac.” Even to her ears, she sounded embarrassingly breathy. If possible, her goose bumps created their own goose bumps. She slipped off her coat, and for a brief couple of seconds looked at the walls, ceiling, floor, anywhere and everywhere but at him.
“Come. I’ll show you the secret stash.” His crutches thumped against the marble floor.
They entered the library, and for the first time, Meredith noticed the name plate on the door. “Macfarlane Clan Library. Are the rooms named after Louise’s family and friends, or did she randomly pick names?”
Elliott flipped a switch that turned on the recessed lighting, creating a soft, romantic glow around the edges of the room. “Macfarlane was her mother’s name. What room are you in?”
“Robertson.”
“Evelyn’s mother is a Robertson. The other rooms,” he shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“I like it. It’s clever marketing,” Meredith said. “Makes me want to research the clans’ histories.”
He laughed. “Do you have time?”
“Not this trip,” she said.
“How long will it take to complete the project you’re working on?”
“I’ve scheduled three days at the Archives, but my life will be hectic for the next several weeks.”
“You must have a slave driver for a boss.”
“Oh, she’s a real whip-cracker.”
He opened the cabinet above the bar, pulled out one bottle, pointed to another. “Lou hides the Macallan in here, too.”
Meredith stepped over to his side, getting a whiff of grapevine flowers, freshly crushed grapes, dry vines. A warming smile started from within and spread outwardly. The pleasing scent was a combination of the cognac and the man. “Do you know all of Lou’s secrets?”
He took down two tulip-shaped glasses from a rack suspended beneath the top cabinet. “Most of them. How do you want yours? Neat? On the rocks? Ginger ale?”
“Neat, please.”
He poured a generous portion into each glass then handed one to her. She held the foot of the long, elegant stemmed glass and swirled, slowly and gently. “My daddy always said when you tilt the glass just so—” She tilted the glass and examined the intensity of the spirit. “—it makes the cognac cry. See,” she pointed. “The tears run down the side of the glass.” Her gaze drifted from watching the tears to watching Elliott. The laugh lines around his eyes deepened. His enjoyment of her telling him something he probably already knew caused her face to flush.
“Hennessy’s PR says—” She babbled on unable to stop, and her face grew hotter. “—‘All cognac is brandy, but not all brandy is cognac.’ I believe that’s true, don’t you?”
The laugh lines around his mouth deepened now. “You won’t find another label in Louise’s cupboard for that very reason.”
The cognac didn’t overwhelm Meredith, but Elliott certainly did. “Does Louise know your secrets, too?”
His long fingers wrapped around the foot of the glass and twirled the contents, much as she had done. His hand didn’t shake though. “I don’t think I have any.”
“Then you must be an open book.”
“One page isn’t much of a tome.”
She savored the cognac and concentrated on all aspects of the spirit’s personality, or rather, she tried to. Is it round, mellow, smooth? She asked the question but was unable to separate the ambient heat from the cognac from that emanating from Elliott. She stepped back and picked up the conversation. “Makes me curious about what’s written on that one page.”
“Not much. I have large handwriting.” He demonstrated by drawing an over-sized letter E in the air.
“So you’re easy to read?”
He nodded “Most of the time—”
The banked fire suddenly roared to life, startling them.
Meredith watched the glowing embers shoot sparks up the chimney. “A magic fireplace or maybe there’s a ghost in the house.”
“In this room—” Elliott glanced around and lowered his voice. “—probably ghosts.”
“A ghost that doesn’t believe you’re easy to read,” she said, giving him a teasing smile.
“I doubt Louise’s ghosts care about me,” he said in a flat voice. He tilted his head slightly, giving the impression of carefully weighing his
words.
“There’ve been so many ghost stories in my family see-through people don’t scare me.” She shrugged, lifting her hand loosely. “I guess that’s why they never show up when I’m in the room. What’s the fun in being a ghost if the person it’s haunting isn’t scared?”
Elliott gave her a watery smile that seemed forced into place. “Their purpose might not be to scare people, but they sure as hell scare me.” He nodded toward the leather chair. “I need to put my leg up.” He held out his glass. “Do you mind?”
She followed him, carrying both of their drinks. “Did you fall off one of your horses?”
He eased into the chair. “I had surgery to repair an old injury.” He took his drink from her. “I saw the slicks for the marketing campaign this morning. Do you own the company?”
Obviously, he’s not going to say anything else about his leg. “I own the wine.”
He let out a soft whistle of appreciation. “You’re a vintner? Where?”
“Napa.” Excitement pushed into her voice. “We’re launching a new chardonnay in February.” The flush returned, hotter than before. “I’m a shameful hussy when it comes to the winery. I’ve been taught never to miss a marketing opportunity.”
Elliott sprawled back in his chair. “The teacher must be the same person who taught you about cognac.”
She laughed, partly to release the nervous tension and partly because he nailed her father. “His exuberance was contagious.”
“You’ll have to tell Louise about your new wine.”
“I noticed tonight that she likes her chardonnay.”
Elliott raised a hand in mock surrender. “I’ve given up hope that she’ll branch out and enjoy the nectar of the gods.”
Meredith crossed one leg neatly over the other and gave him a challenging smile. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on exactly what that nectar is. I own a winery.” And she had been out of contact for more than three hours. What if someone needed her? Losing track of time was out of character and made her a bit antsy.
The Last MacKlenna Page 6