Scotland for Christmas

by Cathryn Parry

  “In the morning I have the Sage Family quarterly meeting.” She seemed to be babbling, making up for his silence. “Then the wedding is at four o’clock, with the reception immediately afterward.”

  He continued to stare. She was offering him the perfect way to access John Sage. And yet...

  “We wouldn’t owe each other anything,” she said. “I just...enjoyed your company today. I thought we could continue that. And I really don’t want to be alone tomorrow....”

  “What will you tell your family about me?” he asked quietly.

  “Why...of course I need to tell them that Alex and I broke up.” Her smile seemed to falter. “But as for you and I, I’ll tell them that you’re my friend.” She tilted her head, looking worried. “Are you my friend, Jacob?”

  What did that even mean—her friend? “And your uncle,” Jacob said carefully, “what about him?”

  “I’ll...introduce you to him, of course. I know you prefer to be alone, but you’re the one who encouraged me to be strong and start anew.” She sighed. “Please, Jacob. Do me this favor.”

  The way she said it touched him. Dammit. He’d never wanted to attend a wedding again, not for anybody.

  But he couldn’t say no to her, either. He didn’t have the heart to see her rejected again.

  He nodded gruffly, then opened the door and got out. “Yes, I’ll go.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She seemed so relieved. “Great,” she said quickly, helping him as he removed their two suitcases from the back of the vehicle and placed them on the black asphalt. “So we’ll meet at half past three, in front of the fireplace?” She lifted her finger. “Oh, and would you like to wear a kilt? I mean, we’re all Scots. The men wear kilts at weddings. I’m told that even the Americans—Malcolm’s bride’s family—have arranged to wear them. It’s a theme,” she finished helplessly.

  “You want me to wear a kilt?”

  “Yes.” She licked her lips nervously. “Actually, I would like you to, if you want to. I know you’re American and not Scottish, but since your last name is Ross, I’ll look for that tartan.”

  He just stared at her. She had no idea what she was saying.

  “Let me make some calls, and if I can reach a kilt hire, then I’ll arrange it for you. Have you ever worn a kilt, Jacob?”

  He dug his nails into his palms. Clenched and unclenched his fists.

  “It really isn’t that big a deal,” she murmured.

  It was a huge deal to him. The only photo he’d ever seen of his real father had been his wedding photo with Jacob’s mother. And in that photo, Jacob’s father had been wearing a kilt.

  The photo was gone now. After he’d found it, tucked away in a box in their New York City apartment, it had disappeared.

  Isabel mistook his anger for something else. “It won’t be that bad,” she consoled him. “Is your name originally Ross? I ask because I’ve learned that the name Ross is sometimes a shortened version of Rossi. Are you of Scottish descent?”

  Again, she had no idea. He nodded abruptly.

  She smiled brilliantly. “I knew it. Then wearing a kilt should come naturally to you.”

  If Jacob didn’t wear the damn thing, then he’d not only stand out like a sore thumb, but he might seem insulting, too. Just...dammit.

  “Are you okay with that, Jacob?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good, then.” She nodded.

  He watched her walk away. But after about five steps she stopped, then abruptly turned back to him. “It will be okay,” she said. “I’ll help you through it.”

  It was as if she knew what he was thinking. But she didn’t. “I’m fine.”

  “I know,” she said simply. “I am, too.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ISABEL SANK INTO a chair at an empty luncheon table in the corner and took a deep, cleansing breath. The quarterly Sage family meeting was over. Even though she’d been disappointed that Malcolm had been asked to run it, she’d survived with composure intact.

  That had been Jacob’s influence. Just knowing he was at the inn with her had gotten her through the morning.

  For the past three hours she’d put on a good front. She’d answered every agenda question that had been directed at her. She’d been “on”—smiling so hard her cheeks and lips were stiff from the effort.

  She’d made sure to greet each cousin, laugh at their jokes, play with their children, hug their wives, air-kiss their husbands—but not too close. Some, she’d had to dance on her feet to back away from. Some had been tippling since breakfast.

  She sat facing her own “wee dram.” This wasn’t a habit for her but a special occasion. A drop to raise her desperately flagging spirits.

  From the corner of her eye she saw her mother floating over, already dressed in her wedding frock. Mum had been one of the crew sipping since breakfast, a habit Isabel had never noticed before. Not since Dad had passed on.

  “Isabel, why so glum?” Mum said, pulling out the chair and settling in beside her.

  Glum? Isabel looked glum? She sat up straighter and smiled harder again. Back on, just like that. “I was resting, Mum.”

  “You’re almost done with New York and coming home again, aren’t you?” Her mum moved the box that Isabel had set on the table. “I’ll be happy when you’re back in Edinburgh.”

  “So will I, Mum,” Isabel said. She couldn’t help smiling as one of her nephews—her brother Archie’s youngest—hopped onto his gram’s lap and ran his finger through the blackberry jam that Isabel had left on her bread plate. He smeared his chubby finger into his mouth and gazed at her angelically. She really had missed her family.

  Across the dining room, her other brother, Hugh, caught her eye and strode over to greet her. She’d seen him earlier at the meeting, but hadn’t had the opportunity to say hello. Isabel felt herself grin, and he caught her up in a bear hug.

  “You did beautifully in there,” Hugh murmured. “Dad would have been proud of you.”

  Tears prickled Isabel’s eyes. Hugh knew how much that meant to her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Of all of us, you were the one he pinned his hopes on,” Hugh said, taking the seat on her other side. “Dad would be happy to see you bringing forward his dream.”

  Isabel nodded, her eyes downcast. Her father had been the chemist and entrepreneur who’d created the first formulations for Sage Family Products. His creations—shampoos, body creams and bath salts—were still distributed in stores all over Europe.

  Her mum spoke up. “It didn’t sit right with your father that he never received proper credit for his inventions.”

  “A great wrong was done him,” Hugh agreed. “I’m sure the stress of that contributed to his death.”

  Isabel twisted her hands. Their dad—Dougal Sage—had been too young, only sixty, when he’d passed. That day had been the worst of her life. Her dad had been her biggest champion and the person who most believed in her.

  She glanced at Hugh. He’d been in the hospital room with her that day, too. He’d heard the promise she’d made to their dad. Hugh knew how hard she was working to someday become the CEO of Sage Family Products.

  “I’ll still be CEO,” she murmured to Hugh. “That hasn’t changed for me.”

  Hugh nodded as their brother, Archie, joined them, along with his wife, Ava. Each had plates filled from the buffet line. Isabel was struck anew by how much both Archie and Hugh looked like their dad—round-faced and scholarly, wearing similar glasses. They both worked as university professors—Hugh in the chemistry department and Archie in biology.

  Hugh leaned toward Isabel. “It’s a good thing you’re coming home,” he said in a low voice. “There’s talk that Uncle John is getting ready to name a successor sooner than we’d thought.”

  Her hands stil
led in her lap. “Why, what’s happened?”

  “He’s not getting any younger. And sometimes I wonder if he isn’t ill. When you see him this afternoon, tell me if you think he looks drawn.”

  Her heartbeat picked up. “I’m sorry to hear this.” She didn’t want anyone to be unwell.

  “Isabel, you really need to step up your agenda,” he continued. “Everyone knows it will be either you or Malcolm chosen. You’re the only two Sages who are even working for the company at a serious level.”

  This was true. And not everyone in their extended family worked or earned a paycheck. Some preferred to live on the funds that came to them through their trusts set up by the family corporation. But Dougal Sage would never have accepted that from his children. Everyone was expected to be productive. He’d never understood why those who didn’t work should share in the profits.

  “I’m doing everything I can,” she said, as patiently as she could.

  “Have you talked with Uncle John lately?” Archie asked from across the table. “Because it looks like Malcolm has the better of you. Uncle John’s preference for him is obvious.”

  Isabel dipped her head. She didn’t need her brothers to fan the old resentment she felt for her cousin. During the meeting it had flared anew, especially when she’d realized that while she’d been tied down in New York with work and responsibility, Malcolm had been allowed to flit between Vermont and Scotland whenever he pleased. These past few months he’d been nurturing the company that he’d developed separately for himself in Vermont and putting his happiness above everyone else’s, in Isabel’s opinion.

  “How can I compete with him?” she asked quietly. “Is there anything I can give Uncle that Malcolm can’t?”

  “From what I’ve observed,” Hugh said, “Uncle John cares most about business acumen and loyalty. In the loyalty department, you have the advantage.”

  Yes, since I jump through hoops and do everything he says without question, she thought wryly.

  “And my business skills? How do those appear to you?” she asked her brother.

  Archie speared some salad with his fork. “Well, you’ve worked at the company longer, in more varying aspects than Malcolm has. You have the range and depth of experience, and the connections with the family members, as well. Malcolm spent too many years at boarding school in America. He doesn’t have the relationships you have. He’s also confined himself to finance and acquisitions. I don’t think he’s ever worked so much as an internship in the marketing or sales groups.”

  He was right, the connections and knowledge she’d built were strengths for her.

  She sighed. “Honestly, I think my problem is familiarity. Malcolm is vice president of acquisitions, so he works directly with Uncle John. He’s in the inner circle. Just by being there, Malcolm has already proved his loyalty to him. My positions haven’t reported directly to him yet. I’d planned to work on that next, but...”

  “You need face time,” Hugh advised. “Remind Uncle that you’re coming home soon.”

  Yes, she did need to build a closer relationship with Uncle John. And to start with, he would be arriving this afternoon. To talk at length with him, she’d have to get through his level of bodyguards and his advisor, Murphy.

  She sighed. “It’s not easy getting close to him, what with his security detail and his rushed schedule.”

  “I know you can manage it.”

  Because that was what she did. She succeeded. She did not fail.

  Mum picked up Stewart from her lap and placed him on the floor. “So when are you coming home, dear?”

  “In six more weeks.”

  “Lovely. Can we expect Alex home for Christmas, as well?”

  Here it came. Isabel carefully pushed back her seat. She’d avoided saying so thus far, but she couldn’t shun the topic any longer.

  She focused on Hugh and smiled gently because he and Alex had always been friends. It was obvious that Alex hadn’t said anything to her brother, or else this would have been Hugh’s first topic of conversation with her. “Alex and I broke up,” she said.

  Hugh looked shocked.

  “I know you’re upset,” she murmured. He’d been Alex’s wee mate, after all. Alex was older than her, Hugh’s age.

  “Why did you let that happen?” Hugh blurted.

  She gasped, stunned. But everyone just stared at her, waiting for her explanation.

  Here it was, the truth about what they really expected from her. She was supposed to be a success in everything. They didn’t even recognize the tension she faced between going to school in New York and maintaining a personal life in Scotland.

  Hugh took one look at her distraught expression and backpedaled. “Bell, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

  “Alex is engaged to somebody else,” she said quietly.

  Shocked silence met her announcement.

  “You also should know,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, “that I’m bringing a date to the wedding. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go and tell the bride and groom to expect him.”

  “You’re bringing a date?” her mum asked. “What’s his name? Can we meet him?”

  Isabel turned to her. “Of course. I love you all and I will introduce you to him. But for now, I want us to be left alone. See me at the reception after the wedding. I’ll introduce you to him then.”

  She stood, her hands shaking. The words had just blurted out of her—it was the most surprising thing she’d ever said to them, and it was the truth. Jacob was her secret weapon. His hidden presence had been a small comfort all morning.

  But now her secret was public. Before she lost her nerve, she marched over to Malcolm to inform him, too.

  Her cousin stood in the center of a ring of people, holding court. They had to be his soon-to-be wife’s people, the Hart family, the Vermonters Isabel hadn’t met yet because they hadn’t been invited to the Sage family meeting.

  Malcolm had a wide grin. He was relaxed and appeared utterly happy.

  Isabel took in another deep, cleansing breath. She faced the man she so rarely interacted with and yet had so much influence in her life. “Malcolm, may I speak with you for a moment, please?”

  “Aye,” Malcolm said. Isabel noticed that Malcolm’s Scottish accent had become more pronounced since she’d last seen him.

  He stepped aside, past a man in a wheelchair, three other men holding beer bottles, a short woman with dark hair and a little red-haired girl wearing a kilt.

  Isabel thought of the box she’d left on the table back where her mother sat, and made a mental note to go back and fetch it when she was done.

  “What is it?” Malcolm asked her.

  Just then, his bride sailed over. Kristin Hart. Isabel had observed her once at work. She was an industrial engineer in their Byrne Glennie plant.

  “Isabel?” Kristin Hart, soon to be Kristin MacDowall, smiled at her. “I’ve wanted to meet you in person for so long.”

  “As have I,” Isabel murmured. She held out her hand to shake Kristin’s, but Kristin just hugged her.

  She smelled nice, like lavender and country flowers—the formulation for one of Sage’s newly acquired, organically sourced shower-gel lines. Malcolm’s baby, of course, since he was Sage’s current vice president of acquisitions. Isabel didn’t have a job title yet.

  As Isabel stood stiffly, Kristin stepped back and shyly slid her gaze to Malcolm. Rarely did a minute go by when the two of them were not in deep eye contact with one another. They were so obviously in love it was all Isabel could do not to throw up again.

  She pressed her nails into her palms. She didn’t want to feel angry or sorry for herself. Malcolm’s happiness did not threaten her. Intellectually, she understood this. It was just her heart that was acting like a three-year-old.

  “We have s
omething to ask you,” Kristin gushed. “It’s...sort of a thing between us.” She glanced at Malcolm and blushed. “Would you mind giving a reading for us at the ceremony? I’m sorry it’s a last-minute request, but we made a mistake in the planning. I thought Malcolm had asked you, and he thought that I had, and...well, your name is already printed in the program. I’m sorry we messed up and didn’t give you more warning, but we’re hoping you’ll say yes anyway. Please, Isabel, we would appreciate it. Malcolm says you perform so beautifully, and you’re the only person we would consider asking.”

  Kristin glanced at Malcolm again. They were holding hands and sharing a connection that Isabel could only dream about.

  But she did it because she had to. Because it was expected of her.

  She politely took the small book from Kristin—Burns, it said on the spine, with a photo on the front cover of the famous eighteenth-century poet. Inside the book was a folded photocopy, presumably of the poem they wanted her to read.

  Isabel kept her expression neutral as she answered, “I’m honored you thought of me. Yes, I’ll read it for you.”

  Inside, she was screaming. She didn’t feel honored, she felt misunderstood and maybe even taken for granted.

  She turned to Malcolm. “When is Uncle John arriving?” The sooner she had a frank conversation with him, the better she would feel.

  “He called, and he’s running late,” Malcolm said. “There was a problem with landing the jet at Logan airport. They were diverted to a regional airport, and Uncle doesn’t expect to get here until after the reception is over, unfortunately.”

  “Do you think that’s bad luck?” Kristin asked Malcolm.

  “I think it’s good luck,” Malcolm said, and kissed her. “I want this celebration to be all about us. Not about him and his doings.”

  That was easy for Malcolm to say, with his “most favored” status. Isabel took a breath. She felt tired and drained. Sage Family Products was and would always be family-owned. Any change in officers was voted on by her family, and that was why Isabel had done her glad-handing all morning long. But if Uncle John didn’t recommend her appointment, it wouldn’t happen. Hugh was right—she needed every chance she could get to impress him.