London Tides: A Novel (The MacDonald Family Trilogy Book 2)

by Carla Laureano

  Grace shot Ian an amused look over her shoulder, but she seemed comfortable beneath Jamie’s arm, so Ian didn’t interfere. For once he blessed his brother’s annoyingly effusive charm for defusing what could have been an uncomfortable situation.

  “So tell me about this woman who overcame your permanent vow of bachelorhood,” Grace was saying as they walked down the stairs. “An American no less! That explains the dour expressions on the faces of all the Englishwomen in London. They thought one of their own would snag you.”

  Ian grinned. He needn’t have worried. Grace could always hold her own.

  Once they reached the foyer, Jamie asked, “Luggage now or later? You missed supper at the house, but I can make something for you if you’re hungry.”

  “I forgot how much I missed that about you.” Grace looked to Ian. “I’m not hungry, but the luggage can wait if you want to go straight up.”

  Jamie was already guiding Grace toward the passenger seat of his silver Audi. Ian called after them, “If you weren’t getting married, I’d be concerned by all this.”

  “If I weren’t getting married, you would have to be.” He winked at Grace, who laughed. His brother was an incorrigible flirt, but toward Grace, his manner was downright brotherly.

  Ian climbed into the spacious backseat, folding his long legs into an area that still managed to be too small for them. Grace and Jamie were already onto discussions about the wedding tomorrow and Andrea’s insistence that they have a proper Scottish ceremony, complete with kilts and a piper.

  “Did you pack your kilt?” Grace asked over her shoulder.

  “Of course I did. I’m the best man.”

  “Now that, I can’t wait to see.”

  “I’d venture that I wear a kilt more often than you wear a dress.”

  “And you’d be right.”

  Up at the house, little had changed. The garden plot was in full leaf under Aunt Muriel’s care, with bright flowers in the window boxes off the white clapboard house. Ian opened Grace’s door and led her up the macadam steps to their aunt’s house before Jamie could claim her again.

  The front door opened to warmth and laughter and the smell of baking—a sure sign Serena was busy in the kitchen. He guided Grace inside and closed the door behind them.

  “Uncle Ian!” Emmy jumped up from her spot at the table, where she was making paper roses, and threw her arms around his waist.

  “My gorgeous girl!” Ian picked up his seven-year-old niece and gave her a squeeze. A toddler flew at his legs and nearly knocked himself over with the force of the collision.

  “Ah, Maxie.” He settled the two-year-old comfortably on his arm. “Say hi to my friend Grace.”

  Max held his arms out to her. “Bup.”

  Her eyebrows lifted, but she took the toddler, who immediately started poking her tattoos, ostensibly to see if they’d rub off. Grace laughed. “Built-in entertainment.”

  “He’s gotten over his shy phase,” Serena said as she entered the reception room, a tea towel in hand. Then she stopped. “Grace!”

  “And here I thought you might not remember me.”

  “Nonsense.” Serena strode forward and squeezed Grace into a hug around the child. “You’re hard to forget. Maxie, leave her alone.”

  “It’s fine,” Grace said, but she surrendered the little boy to his mother. He immediately twisted his fingers through the end of her bob.

  “Little monkey, this one,” she said. “Em, go get Aunt Andrea.”

  “No, I’m here.” A beautiful, dark-haired woman passed through the doorway and went straight to Ian. He kissed her cheek, and she squeezed his arm before she held out a hand to Grace. “I’m Andrea. So pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise. I’m Grace.” She shook Andrea’s hand. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

  “Thank you.” She looked back to Ian. “Are you two hungry? Serena and I are baking for breakfast tomorrow, but Jamie’s getting restless, knowing there’s cooking for the reception going on without him.”

  “I am not,” Jamie protested, but the doting look he gave Andrea before he kissed her a little too long said it hardly mattered what she said. He was undoubtedly smitten with his fiancée.

  Grace smiled up at Ian in a way that made him think she was thinking the same, and he drew her back against himself automatically. “Hold up. Where’s Aunt Muriel?”

  Serena’s expression turned serious. “She wasn’t feeling well. Overworking herself with wedding preparations, I think.” But something in her voice, the worry in her expression, made him think the excuse was for the children’s benefit. She looked to Grace. “What do you say? Up to some batter mixing?”

  “Go on if you want,” Ian murmured in Grace’s ear before dropping a kiss on her temple. “I need to get the third degree from Jamie now.”

  “While I get the female version.” She gave him a mysterious smile he couldn’t quite interpret before she followed his sister and soon-to-be sister-in-law through the doorway.

  Jamie clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s have a talk, you and I. Fancy helping me bring some wine back down to the hotel?”

  “You purposely left that for last, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did. Plus, I want to check on Jeremy.”

  “Ah, you brought him up from London to do the food?”

  “Seemed like an appropriate trade, since I’m going to invest in his new restaurant.”

  Ian stopped. Jeremy Davis was the head chef at Jamie’s Notting Hill restaurant, and the most reliable and responsible of all the kitchen staff. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

  “I’m telling you now.” Jamie raised his voice. “Andrea, love, we’ll be back.”

  “All right, Jamie, love,” she called back in perfect mimicry of his Scottish accent. “Try to be gentle.”

  “I love that woman,” he said with a grin before propelling Ian out the front door. “Took me long enough to convince her to marry me. Not as long as some, however.”

  “I deserved that.”

  “So let’s get straight to it. Is there a reason you didn’t mention it was Grace you were bringing? For that matter, is there a reason you didn’t tell us she was back?”

  Ian winced, though he had no reason to feel guilty. “I wasn’t sure how you would react. It’s Grace.”

  “It is. The woman who basically destroyed you, your rowing career, and every plan you had for the future.”

  Ian climbed into the car. “That had nothing to do with her.”

  “Bollocks. It had everything to do with her.” Jamie started the car, then backed down the drive. “Question is, what happens now that she’s back?”

  “What’s it to you? Since when do you involve yourself in my love life?”

  Jamie raised an eyebrow. “That answers my next question. I was going to ask if it was serious.”

  Ian realized his brother had been baiting him, much as he’d done to Jamie when he was pursuing Andrea. “It’s Grace. It’s automatically serious.”

  “That’s what I thought. But something’s different this time, isn’t it?”

  “God, I hope so.” It was as much a prayer as an answer. He shifted topics. “What’s up with Muriel?”

  “I don’t know. She’s not herself. We’ve been trying to get her to see her doctor, but you know Muriel.”

  “Doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do, I know. She and Dad are exactly alike.”

  “We’ve hired a new manager for the hotel so she won’t have to work so hard. He’s taking over the labor-intensive tasks and managing the bar. He’s also under strict instructions to keep an eye on her.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t either, but what else can we do? You’re in London. Serena visits when she can, but Em has school in Inverness. And Andrea and I—”

  “Right. How are you working that?”

  “We just bought a home in Nairn, and she’s set up office nearby. I’m still traveling back and forth
between there and London. Let’s be honest. The restaurants may run themselves, but I can’t leave them for more than a few weeks at a time. We can’t live on Skye.”

  “This manager is trustworthy, you think?”

  Jamie pulled up to the hotel, something in his face telling Ian he wouldn’t like the answer. “Raised here. Just moved back. He’s an engineer.”

  “A … what?”

  Jamie got out and walked round to the boot. Ian followed. “Listen,” Jamie said, “he’s responsible, he needed the job, and he’s good with the reservation system. You know as well as I do that people come to Skye for their own reasons. They don’t tend to want a lot of questions.”

  Jamie was right. If his siblings trusted this manager, he would too. “I just hate the idea of no family being here if Muriel is unwell.”

  “I know. Me too. Grab one of those cases?”

  Ian took the wine bottles and followed Jamie around back to the kitchen entrance, where the light and heat and clatter spoke to preparations still under way. Jamie went straight to the industrial, walk-in refrigerator and placed the box on the floor next to the others like it.

  “This is an improvement,” Ian observed. “A far cry from the little cottage kitchen.”

  “We’ll see. Restaurant opens for its first dinner seating next month.”

  Ian scanned the kitchen, where several men in white chef jackets prepped the ingredients for the next day’s reception. It was all gleaming tiles and stainless steel, the same standards as Jamie’s restaurant kitchens. He offered his hand. “You’ve done a good job. You and Andrea.”

  “Thank you.” Jamie shook his hand. “Let’s check in with Jeremy, and then we can get back to our women.”

  Of course he would deliver the last bit with a wicked, knowing wink. He was enjoying this turn of events.

  To be perfectly honest, so was Ian.º

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Grace let herself be drawn into the kitchen with Serena and Andrea. The smell of baking breads coming from the oven and the mess spread over the countertops said they’d already been at it for some time.

  “Who’s all this for?” she asked, accepting a mixing bowl from Serena.

  “Wedding guests,” Serena said. “The restaurant at the hotel isn’t open yet, and there isn’t much nearby. Mix that together, will you? A dozen or two strokes is all.”

  “Serena also seems to think that I need entertainment on the night before my wedding,” Andrea put in, spooning already mixed batter into muffin tins. “Apparently sleep is overrated in this family.”

  “Always has been.” Grace smiled. The easy manner between the two other women said that Andrea had been accepted easily into the family.

  “You seem pretty familiar with the MacDonalds,” Andrea said, a twinkle in her eye. “You’ve known Ian for a while, then?”

  “Oh, I think you know the answer to that.” Grace stirred the batter carefully, scraping flour off the sides of the bowl as she went. “Who’s the designated interrogator?”

  “Since I’m technically not a member of this family until tomorrow, I’ll give that honor to Serena.” Andrea winked at her soon-to-be sister-in-law and whisked the muffin tin to the countertop beside the oven.

  Grace reached for the floured pan Serena nudged across the counter. “All right. I’m ready. Go.”

  Serena laughed. “I haven’t even had time to think up proper questions! Which is probably why Ian didn’t warn us you were coming.”

  “Well, if Serena isn’t going to take advantage, I will.” Andrea returned to the island, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “What do you do for a living, Grace?”

  Andrea couldn’t have known she’d started with the hardest question. “I’m a photographer, though I’m considering a change. The travel doesn’t appeal to me like it once did.”

  “I hear that,” Andrea said. “What discipline?”

  “I do some occasional commercial work, but mostly conflict.”

  Andrea’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re a war photographer? That’s impressive. Not many women in your field, are there?”

  “No. Bit of a boys’ club, that.”

  “So, does that mean you’re settling in London, Grace?” Serena’s tone was pleasant, but there was no doubt about the underlying implication.

  “That’s exactly what it means. I’m in the interview process for a job right now, but if that doesn’t work out, I’ll have to look for other options in the city.”

  “So you’re serious about my brother?”

  Grace placed the spoon carefully in the bowl. “I know you’re aware of what went on before—”

  “Actually, Ian never said a word,” Serena murmured. “Didn’t speak of it. Just said that the wedding was off and you had gone, and he didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Sounds like Ian.” He wouldn’t have said anything negative about her, even if he thought it. Maybe it was because he thought she would someday come back, and he didn’t want to taint her relationship with his family. But more likely it was because that was the kind of man he was. Kept his thoughts close and his hurts closer, never spoke unkindly about others, even when they deserved it. And she had certainly deserved it.

  “Let’s just say I never got over him. And I’m happy that he would consider giving me a second chance. So yes, I’m serious about him.”

  “These Scottish lads seem to be good at second chances,” Andrea said, nudging her as she went back to the counter. Grace took that as tacit acceptance.

  Serena studied her for a moment across the counter, then softened into a smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re back. Ian’s gotten too somber the last few years. Needs to be livened up a bit. It’s hard to believe there was a time when he was the one out at all hours, and Jamie was the workaholic.”

  “Jamie is still a workaholic,” Andrea said. “The man actually wants to open a seventh restaurant in Inverness. As if he doesn’t have enough to do.” But her smile held pride rather than censure. Yes, this woman was a good match.

  “Well, I hope you have some time to explore the island while you’re here. Lots of interesting spots for a photographer.” Serena glanced at the wall clock, then threw her towel on the countertop. “Will you keep an eye on the timer? I need to go put Em and Max to bed. It’s getting late.”

  “We’ll watch the oven.” Andrea plopped on the stool at one end of the island and crossed one long, slender leg over the other. Grace would have been tempted to hate her if she hadn’t seem so welcoming. She waited until Serena was out of the room and then said, “It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

  “What is?”

  “Their sheer niceness. I was a hospitality consultant come here for the week, and by the time I left, they’d practically adopted me.” There was something both appreciative and wistful in her tone.

  “You have family of your own?” Grace asked.

  “A sister, Becky, and her husband and kids. They’re here for the wedding, but they turned in early tonight. Jet lag.”

  “No parents?”

  “I haven’t spoken to my dad in years.” Andrea looked suddenly far younger and less confident than she had minutes before. “We had a falling out after my mom died, and we just … drifted apart.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Grace murmured. “My brother died when I was fourteen, and I’ve not seen my parents since I left home for university.” She hadn’t intended to deliver that personal information to a virtual stranger, but there was something about James’s fiancée that made Grace think she was a kindred spirit. Andrea was clearly happy with her current life, but Grace knew all too well about the scars that even happiness couldn’t erase.

  Andrea didn’t try to offer apologies or condolences, she just nodded and began wiping up the batter spills on the counter with a clean towel. “Jamie and I will be back in London after our honeymoon. We should try to have dinner together one night.”

  “That would be nice,” Grace said, and she really meant it.

  Se
rena returned not long after, the kids safely tucked into bed, and they swapped several other batches of breakfast breads into the oven. Just as Andrea began yawning into the back of her hand, the front door opened, followed by male voices. “The men are back. And just in time.”

  Ian and James came in through the dining room, laughing about something they clearly had no intention of sharing. James went straight to Andrea and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Ready for me to take you back down? Big day tomorrow.”

  “Is it? I’d forgotten.”

  Ian nudged Grace. “Come on. They’re going to start up again … We might as well head back to the hotel ourselves.”

  “You need a ride, remember?” James bent to kiss Andrea. “Serena, you need any more help here, or do you want me to come up in the morning to bring back all the pastries?”

  “They still have to cool, so morning is best.”

  Despite the late hour, the sky was still light in the distance, a side effect of Skye’s northern latitude. Ian ushered her out the door, bending to inquire, “So, did they interrogate you?”

  “Not really,” Grace whispered back. “They were pretty gentle, all things considered. You?”

  “Grilled. Seems rather amused by the whole situation, Jamie does. He rather likes playing the wiser married brother.”

  “Almost married.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” James came out with Andrea close behind.

  “Just saying I hoped that marriage matures you some,” Ian said.

  “Not likely. Andrea is the adult here.”

  This time both Ian and Grace climbed in the back of the car. As soon as the dome light went off inside, Grace found Ian’s hand on the leather seat beside her and gripped it tightly. She hadn’t even admitted to herself how nervous she was about seeing his family again, but they’d accepted her almost as if she’d never left. She had Ian to thank for that, his maturity in keeping their business to himself.

  James pulled up in front of the cottages on the opposite side of the hotel car park, then switched off the engine. “I’m going to take Andrea to her cottage, and then I’ll be up. I’m in room 6 if you need anything. Your room keys will open the front door in the meantime.”