Chapter 31
“Good morning! Rise and shine. I’ve tons of errands for you.” Cecelia stood in her bedroom, pushing earrings into her lobes.
“I’m up... I’m up.” Edwina had slept well in the luscious bedding. “What thread count are these sheets?” She smoothed her hand over them.
“One thousand. Same as the best hotels. What do you want for breakfast? Spencer’s here and hasn’t slept all night, so make it quick.”
“Okay.” Edwina hopped out of bed and headed for the bathroom shower, which was conveniently located in the bedroom... just like the best hotels. She made her way to the kitchen.
“Such beauty I have not seen in years.” Spencer’s humor evidently had no end.
Edwina’s hand went to the lush white towel wrapped around her wet hair. “No time to blow dry. Besides, I heard you haven’t slept.”
“Ah, so ye’ve got o’ bit o’ sass in ye, have ye, lass?” Edwina’s eyes widened. He sounded just like the Scot. “Ah... so she smiles after all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you made it through yesterday’s faux pas—”
“Shhh... don’t let Cecelia hear you. I never told her I dined with her guests in my jeans.” Spencer made a face at her and shook his index finger in the air.
“Worse things have happened, Winnie.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t call me Winnie,” she said through a bite of scrambled eggs.
“Ah, so it’s off with me, hmm?”
“These eggs are good. What did you put in them to—Oh I forgot, can’t tell right?”
“Yes. And don’t think I lost the fact that you were avoiding the topic at hand.” Edwina shrugged. “Suit yourself. You want to call me Winnie, go ahead. I won’t have to listen to it long. I’ll be out of here in a few.”
“Oh, and break my heart, Miss Winnie Blair?”
“Yeah.” She threw her linen napkin at him, and it landed square in the middle of the pancake he had just poured into the pan.
“You’re wasting my time, woman,” he scolded. Edwina watched the ruined pancake slide into the sink. “So the big handsome Scot was your knight in shining armor, huh?”
“Who told you that?” But she already knew the answer to that. Now it was her turn to look away. “See how she blushes. Must have been some rescue.”
“It wasn’t anything like that. I... I just... well, it’s a long story... and very boring.”
“A Cinderella-meets-the-handsome-prince story? And you call that boring.”
“It was nothing really.” She leaned over her plate.
“I have a few minutes. Need to clean up this mess in the sink... so tell me your story, Winnie.”
Edwina gave him a look. He wasn’t going to stop until he heard it. “I landed in Edinburgh... I’m sure you know I took Cece’s place on her trip when her father died. She had to go to Italy. I went to Scotland in her place. That’s all.”
“That’s all? That tells me nothing. Get to the point. He didn’t call himself your knight for nothing.”
“Well, if you must know, my plane was late and my hotel room was taken—and the Scot took me to his castle for the weekend.”
“Castle?” Spencer howled.
“Shh... everyone’s asleep.”
“Those rooms have extra thick walls just like—”
“I know. Like an expensive hotel,” Edwina finished for him.
“Right.” He chuckled again.
“Jeesh, does anything get past you?” She got up and carried her dishes to the sink.
“Not a thing. Even when I’ve worked sixteen hours straight.”
“Why don’t you let me stack the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher, and you get some sleep.”
“Not a chance. I get paid for this and believe me,” he looked around,” your sister pays me well. I’m thinking of starting a cleaning business.”
“Stop it! Trained chef’s don’t start cleaning businesses. After all, they have that truckload of tuition to pay. You’d better use your education, after what it must have cost you to get it.”
“You have no idea.”
“Exactly my point,” she shot back and left Spencer to his work.
“Thanks for breakfast.” She turned and stuck her head around the corner.
He nodded her off, a smile still on his face. He is fun, Edwina concluded. Fun to be around. She headed for her room.
“Cece, I’m dressed and ready to help. What do you need done?”
Her sister came around the corner and handed her a hundred dollar bill. “Go get my suit at Gwin’s, and don’t let it out of your sight.”
“Right. I’m off.”
Ribbons of yellow taxis colored the view from every angle as they slipped in and out of traffic. Horns honked, people were talking, families walked about the great city. And the sun was shining like a new spring day. The temp read 72 degrees. Perfect weather for an August day. Humming, she felt free. Free from her everyday world of whispering all day long so patrons could study and making dull decisions like which shelf should be moved to the front and which to the back of library. Who cared anyway?
Shocked, she realized her heart had been a bit lighter since she’d come to Cecelia’s. She knocked the thoughts out of her head when a car swerved, nearly hitting a pedestrian. Her hand flew to her mouth to scream. The car barely missed the older man. Several people went to see that he made it across the street.
Life was over so quickly. Perhaps Spencer was right. Life was too short. She should live her dreams. Dreams? What dreams did she have? A person couldn’t live out a dream if they didn’t have one.
While she was trying to decide the one thing she really wanted in life, she walked right past Gwin’s.
Rushing back, she took the ticket from her pocket and gave it to the attendant. She was gone an extremely long time it seemed, so Edwina waited in the lush chairs near the window and watched people from all walks of life hurry past Gwin’s.
“Miss, we have no such item here in the store.” The young woman looked exasperated.
“What do you mean?” Edwina was on her feet at the counter.
“We cannot find a match to this ticket.”
“Oh no—yes, you can. I brought the suit in last evening. It was supposed to be ready by now. It says so right on the ticket. It’s a suit, red with satin lapels. A size six. There were gold buttons on the cuffs. They were satin too. The cuffs were satin.” Edwina repeated.
“No. It’s not back there.” She shoved the ticket across the counter.
Edwina shoved the ticket back to the woman. “You can’t possibly know what kind of trouble I’m in,” Edwina said. “I need that suit. Can I come back and look? I can find it. I know I can.”
“You can’t do that.” The woman looked shocked.
“But you see, I know what it looks like. You’ve no doubt just misplaced it.” Her stomach started to twirl.
“It’s against store policy.” The woman was finished with her.
What would Cecelia do? Her frantic mind tried to think, her finger rubbing her temple, tears about to form in her eyes.
“I would like to see your boss.” Her hands shook, and she knew her voice did too.
“He’s not here.” The woman looked over her shoulder.
“Yes, he is. You just don’t want to bring him up here.” Edwina felt her ire rise a level. “You see, this is my sister’s suit. She is to appear on Oprah, and they are taping the show today. Today. She needs this suit.” Perhaps reasoning with a calm voice would work. “Her name is Cecelia Giatana. You know her. And you have her suit.”
“I must ask you to leave. I have searched. We do not have it, I will be forced to call security.”
Edwina grabbed the ticket off the counter before the woman had a chance to take it. Time to call Cecelia.
She stepped out the door of Gwin’s and stood on the sidewalk, tears coming down. What would she tell Cecelia?
“Ah lass, we me
et once again.”
Her heart took a leap. The Scot. She gave him one shoulder and pretended to fish for something in her purse... like a tissue to wipe away the dratted evidence on her face.
“Think ye the Starbuck’s menu will help again?” he teased.
“This is not funny this time... sir.” She forced a slight smile.
The Scot’s face turned serious. “Ah, I see that it is not. What troubles ye, lass?”
“I... I came here to get my sister’s suit. She said it cost a fortune, and she has to wear it today for the show. They’re taping it today. And they said they don’t have it. . . .” She stopped, half angry, half humiliated.
“They don’t have it? An expensive suit disappeared into the moors? Have ye the ticket, lass?”
“Yes, but they said they’d call security. . . .”
A look of determination settled on the Scot’s face. His handsome chin dipped and his mouth firmed. Oh boy, there was going to be trouble.
“Come, lass. We’ll see to the matter.”
She followed him inside and stood next to him. When the woman came around the corner and saw her, she started to pick up the phone, but the Scot spoke—loudly.
“This lass has lost a suit. And you have it. Give her the ticket.” His eyes never left the woman’s face.
Edwina slid the ticket across the counter.
“I’ve already checked. I told the young woman she must be mistaken.”
The Scot looked at her. Edwina shook her head ever so slightly.
“Aye, and the Scots are Irish too! Would ye know anything aboot the suit, or is there a need to call for assistance... an attorney perhaps?”
The woman’s face turned fiery red. She excused herself and went to the back.
Edwina gasped as the suit appeared covered in clear plastic. “It seems it was just hung on the rack... only recently finished.” She shot Edwina a look.
“The bill?” Mr. Dunnegin pulled out a credit card.
Edwina didn’t even try to pay. Shocked to the bottom of her Birkenstocks, she stood like one of the dummies in the store windows.
“Now for my suit.” He passed his own ticket across the counter and stared at the woman. “Freshly hung, just now I’m sure.” He tossed the words at her back like a handful of peanut shells tossed to an elephant.
She came around the corner, angrier than before, laid the suit across the counter, rung up the price, and held out her bejeweled hand for his card.
“Charge both to my card.” He stared her down. “No tip.”
They eyed each other for a moment. Edwina snatched up her package.
When he had his in his hands, he started for the door, turned, and said, “Ye will hear from my attorney.”
Edwina gasped, snuck a look back, and blinked. The woman was livid.
“How did you do that?”
“Blasted Americans will steal ye’re shirt from ye’re back.” He stalked down the street, Edwina in his wake.
“Do... do we... do that all the time to Scots?”
“Aye, a Scot loves to save a dime as well as the next lad, but he’ll not lie right to his blessed face to do it.”
Edwina stepped quicker to keep up with him. “I’m so thankful you were there. I didn’t know what to do. Cecelia said it was the best place in town.”
“Ye’re sister may well be right, lass, but I’ll never darken their step again.”
“That’s why you went there too? Because it was the best in town?”
“So she said.” he mumbled.
She walked beside him quietly. He was in no mood for conversation. She thought to change the mood.
“Where are you off to today?”
“Business.” He was still mad. Maybe Scots stayed mad longer. She
shrugged. Suddenly her conscience whispered.
“Mr. Dunnegin . . .”
“Call me Alex,” he said gruffly.
“I am glad you were there. Thank you.” He escorted her to Cecelia’s door and left.