by Amy M. Reade
I smiled. “That’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you.” He clinked his glass of mineral water against mine and grinned back at me.
“I see another trip to Edinburgh in your future, lass.”
“I don’t need a trip to Edinburgh—I’ve just spent almost two weeks in London, for heaven’s sake. It’ll be enough for me just to get home.”
I was missing the Highlands more with every passing day. We only had a couple more days and it would be time to go home. As much as I had looked forward to our stay in London, I couldn’t wait to be in my little house again, with the mountains out my kitchen window and Cauld Loch only a few meters away. I longed for the quiet of the tiny village where Seamus and I had chosen our home. I even missed the tinkling of the bell above the shop door whenever a customer came in.
I had been checking in with Eilidh daily to see if she was having any problems in the shop or the gallery, and she had done surprisingly well. No botched credit card transactions, no forgetting to lock up at night, no irate customers to placate. She had been depositing the sales proceeds in the bank every day—I was checking.
On our last full day in London, after Seamus left for the Lundenburg, I packed our bags to leave. When I finished I looked around the room, wondering what to do next. On impulse, I picked up my mobile phone and dialed Alice. She answered on the first ring.
“Hi Alice, it’s Sylvie.”
“Oh. I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”
“We’re heading home in the morning and I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Well, goodbye. I am really very busy, so if that’s all you wanted…” It was a patronizing brush-off. Alice clearly did not want to be on the phone with me. I wondered why. It could be something completely innocent, but my conversation with Seamus the night before was nudging me. What if she did have something to do with Florian’s death? Was she trying to get me off the phone because her conscience was bothering her? Should I try to find out? Should I share my suspicions with Scotland Yard? I got off the phone quickly.
With effort I thrust away the thought of Scotland Yard. If I contacted them, I’d have a very hard time explaining it to Seamus.
I took up my backpack from where it lay on the bed, flung it over my shoulder, then grabbed my aviator sunglasses and a big floppy hat. I could practically hear Greer’s voice saying, “Don’t go to Highgate, Sylvie. It’s a mistake. Enjoy your last day in London and quit thinking about Alice.”
But I couldn’t listen to Greer’s voice in my head this time. Since my last lunch with Alice I had been unsure of her. I wanted to see for myself the neighborhood where she and Florian had lived as husband and wife. I wanted to see what kind of car she drove and if she always dressed like a bohemian. She had managed to shake my confidence in my ability to judge people and their moods, and that had unnerved me. Seamus would say I was becoming obsessed, and I feared he’d be right.
I went to the closest Tube station and stepped off the train not far from the café where Alice and I had eaten lunch. I had looked up her address online and typed it into the GPS on my phone, giving me walking directions to her house.
Before I set off I fished around in my backpack for the sunglasses and hat so that if Alice was home she wouldn’t recognize me. I felt like Mata Hari. I walked uphill and down, through magnificent neighborhoods where I gawked at the homes lining the streets. My GPS was telling me I was very close.
When I saw Alice’s house, I was awestruck. Three stories tall, its brick walls clad in dark green ivy, it was the nicest home on a block of beautiful homes. I slowed my pace, trying to get a good look at the house without being too obvious. I hoped my disguise was working.
The house exuded a feeling of emptiness. There was no car in the driveway, and two newspapers lay on the grass near the steps leading to the front door. I pushed on the wrought iron gate, which swung open without a sound. Looking around to see if any of the neighbors were watching me, I ascended the front steps and peered through the sidelight next to the front door.
The inside of the house, at least what I could see, was exquisite. Gleaming antiques graced the foyer under a huge crystal chandelier that must look magical at night. A huge vase of flowers sat on top of a gorgeous round wooden table inlaid with swirling patterns in lighter wood.
But what surprised me the most were the walls. Every inch of them was covered with framed paintings. I could barely make out their color, which seemed to be a light, buttery yellow. The paintings were of various subjects and by different artists—I could tell just by looking at them. The paintings gave the foyer a jarring, disconcerting appearance. It was a shame; a lighter touch could have resulted in a beautiful display.
I turned away, wishing I could see more of the inside of the house. The ground-floor windows were just a few feet away. Did I dare peek inside to see more?
When my mobile phone rang I jumped straight up in the air and gasped.
It was Seamus. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I answered, trying to regain my composure.
“Can you meet us for lunch?”
“Who’s ‘us’?”
“Me and Felix and Chloe. We’re leaving in about an hour for that nice pub right up the block.”
My heart was still pounding. I looked up the block with a start, then realized he meant the block where the Lundenburg was.
“Ah, sure. I’ll meet you there. In an hour?”
“Aye. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You don’t sound like yourself.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I just had a coughing fit.”
“All right. You’ll meet us, then?”
“I’ll be there.”
I didn’t have time to wonder about trying to peek through the windows. I needed to get back to the hotel to change my clothes. Leaving the house behind, I walked back through the village to the Tube station.
I was surprised every time I learned something new about Alice. First I had taken her for a grieving widow, but that turned out to be wrong. Then, though I knew she and Florian were wealthy, I had not pictured her house to be as elegant as it was, although I found the display of paintings in the foyer bizarre and unnerving. I wondered if the rest of the house was decorated the same way. I sighed. I would probably never know.
And what of the paintings? Were any by William Leighton Leitch? I wasn’t familiar with his work except for the one Florian bought, so I wouldn’t recognize any if they were hanging in the foyer.
I changed my clothes at the hotel, then quickly left to join the others. I was the last one to arrive.
“What have you been up to?” Seamus asked. Did I look guilty? Could he tell I had something to hide? I studied his face before deciding he had just asked me to be polite.
“I went for a walk.”
“Oh? Where?”
“Just around,” I said.
“Around where?”
“Just around,” I snapped. Seamus looked surprised, as did Felix and Chloe.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t sleep well last night and my temper is a wee bit short this morning.”
“Och, that’s all right, love,” Seamus said, patting my hand. “I understand.”
Why did he have to be so nice? I was being miserable and evasive—I didn’t deserve such a wonderful man.
Chloe spoke up. “Tell us what has been your favorite part of London.” Dear Chloe. So good of her to change the subject and smooth over the obvious strain between me and Seamus.
“You go first,” I told him.
He didn’t even have to think, “The gallery opening,” he said with a grin.
Felix laughed. “I should think so, man! It was a huge success for both of us!” He turned to face me with a broad smile. “Your husband is going to be right famous before you know it. He’s on his way, Sylvie.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said. I was still waiting to hear exactly how much money Seamus had earned at the Lundenburg, but no o
ne said anything. They were all looking at me expectantly, waiting to hear about my favorite part of our trip.
“Making new friends,” I said, lifting my water glass to salute Felix and Chloe. They returned the gesture and Seamus joined in.
“Sylvie’s right,” Seamus declared. “We’ve been very lucky to meet you two. To good friends,” he exclaimed, holding up his glass again. We all clinked our glasses and settled back to chat while we waited for our food to arrive.
Felix and Chloe were eager to come up to the Highlands for a visit, and Seamus pressed them to pick a date. “You should come up before the summer ends,” he said. “The beautiful weather doesn’t last long up there.”
By the time lunch was over we had made plans for our new friends to come in August. We had enjoyed every minute we spent with them in London and already looked forward to seeing them again.
I took my leave of Felix and Chloe after lunch. I was sorry to say goodbye, but I only had one afternoon left in London and I would see them again soon. I thought briefly about going back to Alice’s house in Highgate and trying to peer through her windows, but I decided against it. I banished all thoughts of Alice from my mind and concentrated on picking one final tourist spot.
I chose the Churchill War Rooms, where the larger-than-life wartime leader of England had led his country through the darkest days of World War II from an underground bunker in the city of London. It was a fascinating look into the lives of the people who made decisions and executed orders in the war-weary city, both above and below ground.
I took my time at the War Rooms and left when they closed for the day. Suddenly I wanted a few more days in London. It was such an exciting, beautiful, sophisticated place to be—I felt like I was part of something much bigger when I wandered the streets. I picked up a few more souvenirs for Ellie before heading back to the hotel to finish packing.
Seamus was waiting for me when I got back. We went to dinner and I told him all about the Churchill War Rooms. He was fascinated. I was sorry we hadn’t had a chance to explore London together—we had never made it back to the Getty Images Gallery—but I knew he was happy with the way our trip had turned out. After I told him about my afternoon, carefully leaving out any mention of my activities before we met for lunch, he gushed about how much he loved the Lundenburg and how he couldn’t wait to return.
“Felix is thinking about instituting an artist-in-residence program, and he wants me to be the first guest painter!” he said, his eyes bright.
“That’s wonderful!” I cried. “When is that going to happen?”
“He doesn’t know. We’re going to talk about it when he and Chloe visit us in August.”
“So we might be able to come back to London?”
He nodded, piercing a piece of fish from his huge platter of fish and chips and putting it in his mouth.
I was already looking forward to our next trip.
CHAPTER 10
We went home on the train the next day. As the rolling hills and quaint villages of England gave way to the rugged mountains and lochs of Scotland, I could feel myself getting more excited to be home. As much as I loved London and as much as I wish we had more time to spend there, I was thrilled to be back in Scotland.
We arrived in Cauld Loch in the early evening, after Eilidh had closed up the shop for the day. After we unpacked the artwork and supplies that belonged in the studio, we invited Eilidh and Callum to dinner at the pub.
We were thrilled to see them. We hadn’t seen them much when we lived in Edinburgh, but since moving to the Highlands we spent time with them often. Two weeks away from them had seemed more like a month.
Eilidh couldn’t wait to tell us all about the sales she had made in our absence. I already knew about each one, having checked the inventory and the bank balances every day we were in London, but I listened to her with intense interest because she was so proud of the job she had done.
The rest of us ate while Eilidh regaled us with stories of her salesmanship and persuasive abilities. I hadn’t seen her so animated in a long time.
“Eilidh, you should get a job in a shop or a gallery. You’re a wonderful salesperson,” I said.
“You think so? I’ve been looking for a position as a bookkeeper.”
“I think you should broaden your search. We’d hire you if we needed one more person, but we’re not at that point yet.”
Seamus nodded his agreement. “Aye, I wish we could take you on, Eilidh, but maybe someday soon. If we ever need someone else, the job is yours.”
Eilidh beamed. “Thank you! Callum, what d’ye think?”
Callum leaned back in his chair. “I think that would be braw. Seamus, did the opening go well enough that you think you could hire some help?”
“Aye, that’s what I’m hoping. We haven’t seen the actual numbers yet, but Felix assures us the opening and the gallery appearances went very well.”
“We’d be grateful if Eilidh could work in your shop,” Callum said.
“Well, you’ll be the first to know,” Seamus said with a grin.
The rest of dinner was talkative, noisy, and comfortable. We told Eilidh and Callum all about Felix and Chloe. My cousin couldn’t wait to meet our new friends from London.
“When are they visiting?” she asked eagerly.
“In August,” Seamus replied.
“A real gallery owner? How exciting!” Eilidh exclaimed.
“What am I, then?” Seamus asked, his expression one of mock hurt.
“Oh, you ken what I mean,” Eilidh said, slapping his arm. “I mean an important gallery owner!”
“You’re making it worse,” Seamus said with a wicked grin. Callum and I laughed.
“I mean a London gallery,” Eilidh spluttered. “Och, Seamus, leave me alone!”
Seamus tilted his head back with a hearty laugh. “Aye, I know what you’re trying to say, Eilidh. Felix is an important person in the art world. We’re lucky to know him.”
“We’re lucky he likes you,” I put in.
We shared stories of our time in London. I glossed over any discussion of Alice and Florian, but they were never far from my mind. Seamus looked at me once or twice with a question in his eyes, probably wondering if I would say anything. He still didn’t know I had visited Alice’s house. I would have to tell him sooner or later; I didn’t like keeping secrets. Talk eventually turned to Florian, though. Eilidh and Callum were eager to know if the police had made any progress with their investigation. We told them Scotland Yard had taken over the case and there were no new developments. We also told them what we had learned about the possibility of a map being hidden behind the Leitch painting. They were stunned.
The four of us walked home together after dark. Seamus and I still had to unpack, and Callum had to be at work early the next morning. I invited Eilidh to the shop in the morning because I knew she would miss it keenly. She pounced on the invitation with glee.
“I hoped you would ask. Maybe I can help put stuff away from your trip.”
“We put away most of the artwork and supplies before dinner, but if you want to come over and help rearrange displays, you could do that. I’m afraid we can’t pay you now that we’re home, though,” I said.
“Och, that’s all right. I just want to come over and chat. It’s nice to be with other people.”
Poor Eilidh. I hated that we couldn’t pay her now that we were around to take care of the shop, and that we would have to wait awhile before we knew if we would have the resources to hire her. She really needed a job, if only to get out and talk to people more often. Minding our shop and gallery had been good for her.
The next morning brought sunshine, cool temperatures, and a beautiful breeze. I threw open the windows in the house and in the shop before Seamus was even awake. I was full of energy. I couldn’t wait to get back to my photography. I had taken hundreds of pictures in London and I wanted to start going through them, deciding which might make good prints, which would be good on canvas, and
which could be deleted.
I sipped coffee in the studio as I browsed through the photos on my laptop. I was so engrossed that when I heard a knock at the door, it startled me. It was Eilidh.
I knew something was wrong before I opened the door. Her face, normally flawless, the color of porcelain, was red and blotchy. Damp streaks lined her cheeks where tears had fallen.
“Eilidh! What’s wrong?” I asked, drawing her into the shop by her arm.
She hiccupped before answering. “I had a fight with Callum. He had to get up early for work, so I got up and made him a nice breakfast. But he started in on me, asking why I wasn’t trying harder to get a job. He says we shouldn’t be relying on you and Seamus to hire me. He’s embarrassed.” She let out a small sob.
“He shouldn’t be embarrassed! We would love for you to work here. And you’re family. Who better to work with us than family?” I asked, giving her a hug. “Now dry your tears and let me get you a cup of tea. Or coffee. Which do you prefer?”
“Coffee, please. I need the extra jolt this morning.”
I went to the kitchen and returned with a steaming cup of coffee, fixed just the way Eilidh liked it, with two sugars and lots of cream.
“You’re so good to me. I can never repay you,” she said with a sniffle.
“Who said you have to repay us? I wish we could have paid you more for minding the shop and the studio whilst we were gone. Especially since you sold more of Seamus’s paintings in two weeks than I think I ever have!” It wasn’t true, but she needed the encouragement, and it worked. A smile broke through her sad countenance and she looked at me gratefully.
“Thank you,” she said.
She followed me into the studio, where I turned my computer around so she could see some of the photos I took in London. I gave her some context to each one, explaining where it was taken, what time of day, and what else I had been able to see outside the frame of the photo. She perused the photos slowly, exclaiming over each one.
“This one is gorgeous!” she said. I looked over her shoulder.
“I took that on the grounds of Westminster Abbey. It was raining hard that day, but I couldn’t stay inside with limited time in London. I had toured the Abbey and was walking to my next destination when I turned around to look at the Abbey behind me. And it was so strikingly beautiful that I had to take one more picture. I forget to turn around or look up sometimes, and often the best shots are behind or above.”