Edwina

by Patricia Strefling

Chapter 29

  Rarely speechless, Edwina found she could not speak a word for an interminably long moment. Spencer came to the rescue.

  “These are the expected guests?” He shot her a side-glance.

  “Yes... yes they are.... Pardon me, Mr. and Mrs. Gillespie and . . .” Her brain stopped working.

  “Ah, ye’ve forgotten your knight in shining armor, then?”

  And then she saw his eyes look down to the floor.

  Her bare toes dug into the carpet. It was no secret to anyone she’d been caught unprepared, for there she stood in work jeans, cotton shirt, and no shoes.

  “Ah, as you can see, we... we . . .have arrived early. I hope it will not inconvenience you.” Rose Gillespie said.

  “We are ready for you,” Spencer finished. “I’ll take you to your room, and you and Miss Blair can have a visit later. I’m sure you’ll want to freshen up. May I?” He nodded toward the luggage, walked over like a practiced concierge, and waited for their answer.

  “I’ll be carryin’ the luggage back.” The Scot’s voice echoed in the large room. “Ye’ll be needing to be at your position.”

  “I’ll assist.” Spencer let the Scot choose his bags, then picked up the two smaller ones and led the way.

  All the while Edwina fidgeted. She stood aside as they passed.

  The Scot had come along too? What was he doing here?

  She wanted to flee, first to her room to pack and then back to Niles. Heart beating like a ticking clock in a silent room, she planted her bare feet in the carpet unable to think.

  Spencer appeared after settling the guests. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I had no idea they were coming today. Cece said the taping of the show was Thursday.”

  “Always best to be prepared.”

  “They’re early.” She stated the obvious.

  “As I can see. I’ll clean the last two rooms and get out of here. Can you handle them until Cecelia arrives?”

  “I’ll have to.” She started to bite her nails, then stuck her hands into her back pockets. “What about all the work you had planned for me to do?”

  “It’ll wait. Guests always come before work.”

  “Right.” She hesitated. “What should we do first? Offer them coffee, something to eat? It’s nearly three-thirty.” She checked her Wal-Mart watch.

  “Guests usually like a half hour or so to rest or refresh themselves, then a bite to eat. They’ve been in the air for hours, not to mention the taxi ride from the airport. They’re probably famished.”

  “I know I was.” She remembered her fainting spell, which occurred after she’d gotten off her long flight. The Scot probably thought she was one of those flighty women who loved to drop their handkerchief off the tips of their fingers, then feign they didn’t know a thing about it.

  “I’ll put the coffee on. I can toss together a green salad to go along with the chicken sandwiches, and I just might have time to whip up my special lemon pudding dessert. I think there’s a pound cake in the cupboard.”

  Spencer took off for the kitchen, Edwina right behind him. “Okay, what do you want me to do?”

  “Pull the vegetables out of the refrigerator while I see if we have the makings for pudding.”

  “Lemons, mayo, lettuce, vegetables, spinach . . .” He called out what he needed, and as quick as she could find them, she stacked the ingredients on the black granite countertop.

  “Forty-five minutes from now we’ll be sitting at the breakfast nook chowing down some very handsome and tasty victuals. Not to worry.”

  Edwina laughed. “That sure didn’t sound like a professional chef speaking.”

  Spencer’s laughter rolled through the kitchen. “I know all the terms folks use from all over the world to describe food—chow and victuals being only two of them.”

  Spencer had been right. The food was ready and the table set with Cecelia’s gold-rimmed plates. “A bit much, but elegant nevertheless,” he said.

  “It looks so nice, Spencer. And in just under an hour.”

  “Now for our guests. While I finish up the dessert, why don’t you go back and tap on their doors, let them know luncheon is ready. Don’t forget your shoes.”

  “Oh dear. Should I change?”

  “No time. Retrieve our guests now,” he ordered. “Everything is ready.”

  “Me? Why don’t you go? I’ll stir the pudding.”

  “Edwina, dear, no one—no one stirs my special pudding. Go get the guests. I won’t serve food that has sat one minute too long.”

  She slipped into her Birkenstocks and tried to act as normal as possible. As she raised her hand to knock, the door opened.

  “Ye’ve come for us, then?” He crossed his arms over his chest and actually smiled at her.

  He looked happy enough.

  “Yes. Dinner is ready. Spencer—I mean Mr. Hillman, our chef, requests your presence.” Where had that come from? Probably a movie she’d seen.

  “Then we shall be prompt.” The Scot’s smile spread across his face as he knocked at the other door. “Mr. and Mrs. Gillespie, it seems luncheon is served.”

  Was he making fun of her? He sounded awfully proper.

  The elder couple came from their room whispering happily. Edwina led them to the dining room.

  “My sister should be here a bit later. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you. Please sit down.” She started to pull out a chair for Mrs. Gillespie, but the Scot was quicker.

  “I will do my duty.” He seated the elder woman first, then pulled out her chair. Mr. Gillespie and then the Scot took their seats.

  Spencer winked at her from across the bar, which made her face turn pink. She could have slapped him.

  The meal finally finished, her sandwich only half eaten since she and Spencer had eaten an hour earlier, she struggled through the small talk.

  “Yer city is lovely, Edwina.” Rose Gillespie said sweetly.

  “Oh, it’s not my city. My sister lives here in Chicago... in this condo. My apartment... home is in Michigan.”

  “Michigan? Why, isn’t that right across the Lake?”

  “Yes, it is.” Edwina smiled. “About a hundred miles from here.”

  “We are so excited to be in yer United States.” Rose and Edwina fell into a conversation while the Scot and Mr. Gillespie talked. Spencer served them like royalty, predicting their every need.

  When everyone was finished, Spencer suggested they take their coffee to the living room. The foursome found chairs while Spencer cleaned the kitchen.

  Edwina primly crossed her feet at her ankles and tried to listen to the conversation but found herself checking her watch. When was Cecelia going to come? She couldn’t entertain everyone for much longer. She was running out of things to say.

  “I must be on my way.” Mr. Dunnegin rose.

  “Are you leaving?” Edwina asked. She’d barely spoken to him.

  “Yes, I have business to attend to.”

  “Oh... I thought... you’re not staying?”

  “Never intended to stay, lass. Just brought my friends in from Scotland. Yer sister—Cecelia, isn’t it?—will take it from here. Do I understand correctly?”

  “Oh yes, she will.” Edwina didn’t know if she should call him Mr. Dunnegin or Laird Dunnegin here in the U.S.

  “I shall return four days hence,” he said formally.

  “Please be aboot yer business, Laird Dunnegin. We should be finished in four days, we are to understand?”

  The question was directed to Edwina by Mr. Gillespie.

  “I... I assume so.... I’m afraid I just came down to help and don’t know enough about the details to inform you . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Before she could turn back to open the door for his exit, the Scot had gone and she breathed again.