“I have the money I set aside to build my house.”
Katya gasped at the enormity of Brodie’s offer. “Then you’d have the land but no money to build.”
“Also,” Lawrence added, “I suspect that even if you did have enough cash to cover the cost of the land, Ms. Baxter wouldn’t take it. This is personal for her. It isn’t about the money.”
“No. It isn’t. It’s about the Savages.” Katya let out an angry growl toward the ceiling. “I don’t know how to fix this. I’m not even sure it’s possible. The woman’s held a grudge for such a long time. So long that everyone involved is dead.”
“She doesn’t want things fixed anyway,” Brodie said. “Where’s the fun in that when she can make a Savage’s life miserable instead?”
“I feel,” Lawrence said, “you both have to seriously consider returning the deed. It may be your only option to get out of this situation without sustaining too much damage.”
“We need the land.” Katya pressed a hand to her diaphragm, finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. “I can’t afford another property. If I don’t have the land, there will be no scenic flight business and no museum.”
“Aye, and I’d quite like to build my house an’ all,” Brodie commented dryly.
Their lawyer heaved a sigh. “Listen to yourselves. You can’t even agree on what to do with the land.”
“No,” Katya said slowly, her heart in her throat. “I know what to do with it. We’re going to split it. Brodie can have the half with the best view for his house, and I’ll have the back section for the museum and runway.”
“That’s not a lot of space, Kat.” Brodie’s expression softened at her offer.
“The plane doesn’t need a lot to get off the ground. I can make it work. And we can plant trees along the boundary, so you don’t have to stare at tourists all day long.”
The intensity of his gaze made her cheeks burn. “You do realize your museum won’t have a view from the back paddock.”
She waved a dismissive hand, her heart racing. “They’ll see plenty of view when they’re up in the plane.”
“A week ago, you wanted me off the land for good,” Brodie said quietly.
“Yeah, well, I’m a pragmatist, and half of the land is better than none. Which is what we’ll get if Kitty Baxter has her way.”
“I think you’re both getting ahead of yourselves,” Lawrence said. “There’s no point in discussing how to divvy up the land you’ll likely lose. You need to deal with one issue at a time, and Ms. Baxter’s lawsuit is the most pressing.”
Katya glared up at the ceiling. “Is it too much to ask that this whole situation just goes away?” she prayed. Understandably, God wasn’t interested in a prayer that told him off at the same time as asking for something. She looked back at Lawrence. “How big of a suspect would we be if the mighty Ms. Baxter were to go missing?”
“Don’t even joke about that.” Lawrence was serious.
“Do you have any other ideas?” Frustration made Katya want to strike out at anyone in her path. “Because I’m fresh out.”
“I have an idea,” Brodie said evenly. “Maybe I should go see what she has to say.”
Katya immediately stopped pacing. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists, remember? We agreed on that when we were thirteen and your brothers tried to blackmail us when they caught us kissing after school.”
“This is a little different.” He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “They only wanted chocolate in return for not running to tell our parents. Catherine might have something to say that will help us keep our land.”
“Like what?” Honestly, was he trying to infuriate her?
“I don’t know, which is why I think I should talk to her, Kat. We have nothing to lose anyway, so I might as well.”
Katya wanted to rage at the injustice of it all, because Brodie was right. “Fine. But I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” Brodie said as he headed for the door.
Catherine Baxter stood at the window in Lawrence’s office, looking out toward the hills.
“A minute to spare,” she said without turning as Brodie entered the room. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d come at all.”
Brodie closed the door behind him but didn’t bother to take a seat. Instead, he stood in the middle of Lawrence’s office, with its dark wood and brown leather décor, and got straight to the point. “What’s this about then?”
When she turned to face him, her demeanor was positively gleeful. “It’s about the land. I have an offer to make you.”
“I’m listening.” He pushed his suit jacket aside to shove his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Mainly to stop himself from giving in to the temptation to strangle her.
Kitty sauntered around the desk to lean against it. “I’ve never had a problem with the MacGregors, which means I don’t have a problem with you.”
“Have to say”—Brodie rocked back on his heels—“it definitely doesn’t look like that’s the case.”
“The truth of the matter is, I can’t live with the knowledge that a Savage owns a piece of Baxter land. A MacGregor, on the other hand, that I wouldn’t have an issue with.”
A chill ran up Brodie’s spine. “What are you saying, Catherine?”
“I’m willing to make you an offer.” She picked a piece of lint from the sleeve of her lavender cardigan. “Divorce Katya, end the marriage for good, and the land will be yours.” She held up a hand. “Before you think you can divorce her to keep the land, only to remarry once you have it, I’ll need you to sign some paperwork I had my lawyers draw up.” She tapped a finger on the folder lying on the desk beside her hip. “You must agree to have nothing to do with Katya or the Savages, otherwise the land will revert to my ownership.”
A stillness came over Brodie as her offer sank in. He recognized his reaction as the intense focus brought on by a sudden rush of adrenaline. “The Baxters enjoy giving gifts that come with conditions, don’t they?”
Her smile reminded him of a shark. “I did learn from the best. Although my father had the right idea, with the wrong execution. He made the mistake of believing you two wouldn’t try to defraud him. However, I’m a wee bit more cautious. For you to gain my trust, I’ll require a signature.”
“Let me get this right.” Brodie clenched his hands into tight fists within his pockets. “To have the land, without fear of you coming after it, I need to turn my back on my wife?”
She chuckled dryly. “It’s not like I’m asking you to do something you haven’t done before.”
“And,” he continued evenly, ignoring her mirth, “if I sign on the dotted line and agree to your conditions, I’ll get to build my house and live happily ever after without having to hear another word from you?”
“We don’t even need to acknowledge each other on the street.” Catherine patted at her perfectly styled hair. “Let’s face it, Brodie, it’s not like you’d be sacrificing a whole lot to get what you really want. You haven’t set eyes on your wife in years. Don’t think for one second I believe the story you two have been shoveling all over town. Renewed romance?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You’re back in love again and ready to set up home for real this time? Aye, and I have a tower in London I’d like to sell you.”
Brodie didn’t bother setting her straight on any of her misconceptions. After all, she wasn’t the only one in town who believed his relationship with Katya was all for show. “What I’m wondering is why you’d make this offer in the first place. The land would still be gone, even if a Savage didn’t live on it.”
“Because”—her eyes glinted with malice—“knowing you still had the land would drive the Savages crazy.”
“You hate them that much?”
“You saw the marriage certificate, Brodie. Tom Savage stole the love of my father’s life out from under his nose, making bigamists of them all. Making me a bastard. Leaving my mother to suffer a loveless marriage because her husband’s min
d was always elsewhere—on the woman he truly loved.” She scoffed. “You grew up in a happy family, which means you have no idea what it’s like to live in one that’s cold and distant. Did you know that right up until Natasha died she still had clandestine meetings with Ben? I saw them. Sitting by the loch in the dark, whispering to each other. Humiliating my mother while they did it. Natasha Savage had no shame, and Tom Savage betrayed his best friend. So, yes, I do hate them that much.”
“Bitterness will kill you, Catherine,” Brodie said quietly, knowing the woman wouldn’t listen.
And she didn’t. She completely ignored his comment and pointed at the folder. “Take some time to look over the paperwork, but I’ll require a decision by the end of the day. I’ll be at the town meeting tonight if you’d like to talk in person. Remember, Brodie, this offer is for you only, and it disappears in the morning. If I were you, I’d jump on it while I had the chance.”
With her jaw set and her head held high, Catherine Baxter swept out of the room, leaving him to stare at the folder—the contents of which could change his life forever.
Calmly, Brodie walked across the faded Persian carpet to the desk.
He picked up a pen.
Then he opened the folder.
35
February 1946
Scotland
* * *
It was the monthly town meeting, and everyone would be present. Tom had insisted Natasha accompany him for the evening, saying it was the finest entertainment Invertary could provide. After her visit with Ben that afternoon, she didn’t much feel like being around people, but spending time with Tom was too tempting to resist.
“We’ve no official town council,” Tom told Natasha as he opened the door for her.
He’d already explained they held their meetings in the Presbyterian church at the top of the high street, as it was one of the few buildings in town big enough to seat everyone. It was also considered neutral territory because the vicar didn’t have a business that would benefit from everyone meeting in his church—although he had been known to use the meetings to chase up lapsed parishioners.
“If there’s no official town council, why is there a meeting?” Natasha asked as they settled on worn wooden seats at the front of the church hall, close to one of the iron radiators.
A glance around the large barren room, with its high ceilings and tall, thin windows, revealed all the attendees shared the same idea. Small groups huddled beside each radiator, while the center of the room had yet to fill.
“I said there’s no official council, but we do have ourselves an unofficial one. The local government doesn’t recognize the council, which doesn’t stop them from running things.” Tom took off his coat, folded it, and draped it over his knee, before pointing at the row of people sitting in the pulpit. “The old man who looks like a bulldog? That’s our unofficial mayor, Angus McTavish, who runs the post office. Some say he got the job as mayor because he had access to the votes and counted himself in as the winner. I say it’s because no one else wanted it.”
Natasha’s new fiancé had a way of making even the most mundane event seem like an adventure. She could have listened to him for hours.
Tom shifted in his seat until they sat pressed together from thigh to shoulder, smiling down at her as if she were the center of his universe. “That man in the clerical collar is Vicar MacDonald. He likes to consider himself neutral ground during discussions. The woman is Irene Shaw; she’s a teacher at the local primary school and is really the one in charge. If you want anything done, you ask Irene.”
“Why is there an empty seat on the platform?”
His smile dimmed. “That’s Ben’s. At one time, he was the voice of reason on the council. We’re keeping it open for him until he feels up to coming back.”
Natasha pressed a hand to her roiling stomach at the thought of Ben and how disturbed he’d been that afternoon. It was clear he needed some professional help, and if his housekeeper didn’t call a doctor by the morning, she intended to do it herself.
People slowly filed into the room, greeting Natasha and Tom with hearty handshakes and enthusiastic congratulations. Not to mention offers to help with their wedding.
“I’ll do the cake,” Mrs. McKay, who ran the bakery, said with obvious excitement.
A hand slapped down on Tom’s shoulder. It was the owner of the local pub. “I’ve a cask of ale I’ve been saving in case the rationing became too much. Consider it a wedding gift for the reception. You’re holding it at the pub, right?”
Tom thanked him heartily before looking at Natasha to check if the pub was okay for their party.
When she nodded, he answered for both of them, “The pub it is.”
“We’ll get everyone to bring something to eat.” A woman Natasha had yet to meet joined their small group. “Some of us have been saving our rations for a special occasion, and what’s a wedding if not a reason to splurge?”
“There’s produce at the farm,” Tom said. “I’m sure Ben wouldn’t mind donating to the cause.”
Natasha felt her cheeks burn with the knowledge Ben would very much mind having any involvement in their wedding.
“He’ll be your best man, of course,” the barman said.
Tom’s laugh was carefree. “He’d kick my backside all the way to Edinburgh if I asked anyone else.”
With each new conversation around the wedding, it became clearer to Natasha that she had to come clean with Tom. There was no way Ben wouldn’t say something, not after his reaction during her visit, and Tom needed to hear the truth from her.
“We’ll need a band,” a young man said. “You playing, Tom?”
“When I’m not dancing with my bride.” He took her hand. “If she lets me stray from her side, that is.”
“Look at that,” another man called out in amusement. “Who knew Tom Savage was a romantic?”
“I did.” A woman at the back piped up and was quickly, and harshly, hushed by most of the room.
Tom’s face turned the deepest red. “That was a long time ago,” he told Natasha solemnly.
“What was?” She faked innocence.
“See why I love her?” he demanded of the crowd.
Just as things were getting a bit raucous, a gavel struck wood, calling the meeting to order.
As silence settled over the crowd, who were all wrapped up for winter in their warm coats and hats, the unofficial mayor raised his voice.
“First point of order,” he said. “The Andersons had an accident with their cart the other day and broke the wheel. Anybody got a spare wheel or the fixings to repair theirs? Mind you, according to Old Anderson, there’s no’ much left to fix.”
Hands went up from those who felt they could help, and Irene Shaw dutifully wrote their details in her notebook.
“Second agenda point,” the mayor read from a piece of paper in his hand. “We need help with shoveling snow around town…” His attention shifted to the back of the hall, where the entrance was located. “Ben?”
Ben? Here?
Natasha twisted around in her seat. And there he was. Standing in the shadow at the back of the room. The knot in her stomach tightened further.
“Ben!” Tom leaped to his feet, his face painted with delight. “There’s a seat beside us if you don’t want to sit with the council.”
The joyous smiles of the townsfolk faded as Ben walked toward the front. And then the whispers started. They rushed through the room like a breeze through leaves: Why’s he wearing that old coat?… clothes are falling off him… awfy pale… heard he was injured in the war… A shot to the head… no’ the same…
Natasha tuned out the murmurs, her mouth becoming dry as she watched Ben walk stiffly down the center aisle toward his grinning best friend. His lips drawn in a tight line and his eyes dark with displeasure, he wore the stained and torn army coat he’d got from the Americans.
It didn’t take a genius to see something was very wrong with Ben Baxter. As he passed each row
of chairs, their occupants fell silent. It was almost as if the crowd as a whole feared breathing too loudly might lead to them missing something.
“Sit here.” Tom appeared to be the only one in the room oblivious of the dangerous cloud surrounding Ben. “It’s good to see you out of the house, brother.” Tom’s joy was clear as he stepped away from his seat, arms spread wide, ready to embrace his friend in welcome.
Ben removed his hand from his pocket.
And pointed a gun at his best friend’s heart.
There was a collective gasp of horrified shock. Ben paid no attention to it or to the calls for him to put down the gun. His attention remained focused on the couple in front of him.
“Ben?” Tom said carefully. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking control of a situation that needs it. Natasha,” Ben snapped, “come over here, right now.”
Confusion rippled around the room as Tom held out a hand to stop her. “Now, what do you want with Nat?”
“Don’t call her that.” Ben’s eyes were deadly cold when they stared at Tom. “Natasha, come over here at once.”
She had no choice but to do as he said. Palms sweating and heart pounding, she slowly got to her feet. All she could think about was calming Ben down enough to stop him aiming at Tom.
“It’s okay, Ben,” she said. “Put down the gun. We’re all friends here, and you wouldn’t want to hurt a friend, would you?”
“I don’t intend to hurt anyone,” he said. “I only want my wife to come home.”
The ripple of shock made the air crackle.
“Wife?” the mayor asked hesitantly. “You’re no’ making any sense, lad.”
“I’m making perfect sense. This is what I should have done as soon as we returned to Scotland; maybe then she wouldn’t have taken to running around town with another man.”
“It’s fine.” Natasha attempted to soothe. “I’m happy to go with Ben and talk. We’re good friends, and I’m sure we can work this out.”
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