Glasgow Grace (6 page)

After running a brush through her hair, Skye dabbed a little color to her face. Bag and scarf in hand, she headed for the door, retrieving her coat from the closet on the way.

By the time Skye reached the ground floor, she had bundled up for the cold. She strode across the hotel lobby toward the tall concierge attired in a dark blue suit and burgundy tie. She hadn’t seen him when she’d checked in yesterday.

He smiled as she stepped up to his desk. Skye returned the gesture.

“Could you tell me where’s the best place for some last minute Christmas shopping? I imagine any mall will be a madhouse, but I only arrived yesterday and unexpectedly ran into some old friends.”

“Of course, Miss…”

“Hunter. Skye Hunter.”

“Ah, yes. Our opera star.”

“Aye.” Mr. Boyd must have briefed the concierge on her stay. Either that or, thanks to her mother, the front desk staff informed him of her arrival.

“So, shopping it is? You’ll do well to go to Buchanan Galleries. It’s Glasgow’s top shopping destination—over ninety stores covering the best of the high street names.”

“Is it within walking distance?”

“On a good day, yes. But not in this dreary, wet weather. The roads are pure slush from the snow and drizzle. I’ll call for a taxi.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind.”

The concierge nodded. “I’m here to help.”

Within minutes, Skye stood inside Buchanan Galleries. She spent the next few hours hopping from clothing stores, to jewelry stores, coffee shops, toy shops, perfume shops, gift shops. Would she ever find anything suitable for the McGuires, especially Callum? Seeing a chocolatier, she considered a box for Callum. Would he remember they were her downfall?

Deciding that men gave women chocolates, not the other way around, she pressed on.

A familiar smell wafted by as she passed a store specializing in candles. In an instant she was back home in Scotland with her father and mother where each day had smelled of the Highlands in spring.

Smell, the sense most linked with memory. Maybe, just maybe, she’d found the perfect gift. With these candles, perhaps the McGuires would think of her long after she’d gone.

She breathed in deep as she stepped inside the fragrant store. “Smells good.”

“Scottish heather,” the short, stocky Scotsman standing behind the counter clarified.

Skye smiled. “I’ll take one.”

“Great choice. Small, medium or large.”

“Definitely large.”

Browsing the many options, Skye stopped now and then to pick one up. She’d take a whiff then place it back on the shelf. Soon she’d picked out a candle for everyone—except Callum. She found another for herself when the smell of a field of daisies, waiting to be plucked, drifted to her nose as she lifted the white candle. ‘Do You Love Me?’ She did, with all her heart. But what were Callum’s feelings for her?

‘Hearty Fare’ seemed a perfect choice for Mary McGuire; ‘The Oak Barrel’ for Robert. ‘The Man’ screamed Tavish McGuire. Heat rose to her cheeks at the memory of Tavish’s flirtation, probably sweeping her face with a blush like a Bondi Beach sunset. What would Callum think if she bought this candle for his brother? She grabbed one. Perhaps a little jealousy would spur him into action.

Then her gaze fell on one candle the same gray-blue as the River Clyde. ‘The Bridge.’ She had found Callum’s gift. Masculine hints of sage, amber and oak blended with watery notes had Skye strolling by the river with Callum and walking hand in hand across Bell’s Bridge.

With a smile, she clutched the gift bags and exited the store. She’d done well. But Skye hadn’t made it half-way out the mall when doubt set in. Was this enough for Callum? She should’ve bought a second gift. She glanced around. Stores were already closing their doors for Christmas.

Spotting an open gift shop, Skye dashed inside and grabbed the biggest, reddest bow she could find. She might need to resort to her original idea.

~*~

Pots and pans rattled in the tavern’s kitchen. Ignoring them for now, Callum placed the wrapped chocolate boxes beneath the Christmas tree’s verdant boughs. He’d bring his family’s gifts later.

In front of the tree, a table for five was set and decorated. Ma had put all the items he’d brought from home this morning to good use. A white, Jacquard weave tablecloth covered two wooden tables pushed together, and a green runner stretched from one side of the rectangular table to the other. Silver charger plates framed the white dinner plates. On either side of the crockery, Sheffield cutlery stood guard like knights in armor keeping watch at the castle walls. On top, silver spoons lay horizontal as ones fallen in battle.

Tall, crystal wine glasses graced each setting, transparent and naked. Soon they’d be clothed in the finest crimson, and when they dined by candlelight, ruby red reflections would throw themselves across the tablecloth and walls.

The florist had rerouted his delivery. Good. The fresh wreath in the center of the table filled the surroundings with the fragrance of fir, cinnamon and pine. Bunches of purple berries, cinnamon-infused pine cones, and the thistle-like heads of Eryngium lay on a lush bed of foliage.

Callum took a closer look at the ribbons adorning the wreath. The Hunter tartan’s dark blue, green, red and white shadowed the red and orange of the McGuire clan. Two vastly different ribbons intertwined to make one beautiful plaid bow. The florist had managed to fulfill his last minute request quite successfully. In the center of the wreath, three tall, slender cream-colored candles to light the table over dinner.

Callum approved of his mother’s efforts. She’d done a splendid job, especially on such short notice. No doubt the sounds from the kitchen were Ma preparing a hearty fare that would soon grace this table. Everything was set for warm, aromatic holiday memories.

On his way to the kitchen, Callum stopped behind the bar and slid a Christmas CD into the player. “Frosty the Snowman” filtered through the room, following him into the kitchen before the closing door shut out the song.

Mary McGuire glanced up from her cooking.

Before she could say a word, Callum shoved his hand into the small box he carried and produced an Iain Burnett chocolate. “Open your mouth, Ma.”

She obeyed and he placed the small brown square in her mouth, watching as with closed eyes, she oohed and aahed. He had to act now.

“Ma. You need to be nice to Skye tonight. Remember you’ve always liked her, and she’s done nothing wrong by returning here. She wanted to see us.”

Mary took her time finishing her chocolate. What churned through her mind? Finally, she responded. “So, yir goin’ tae chase afta hur, ain’t yi?”

“Aye.”

“Daeyi still luv hur?”

“More than I remember.” He popped another chocolate in her mouth. “Life has given us a second chance, Ma. I have to take hold of that with both hands.”

She swallowed the chocolate without savoring it this time. “Is that why yi ended things wae poor Katie?”

“No, Ma. I had no idea Skye was coming to Glasgow when I broke up with Katie. I just wasn’t in love with her, and realized that I never would be. It wasn’t fair to Katie for me to continue in the relationship any longer. She’ll see that in time.”

Callum gave his mother a third chocolate, and then wrapped his arms around her—the hug hard, the kiss on her cheek light. “Be happy for me, Ma,” he said before walking away. At the door, he stopped and turned. “You need any help?” He’d asked the same question that morning. Her answer remained the same as she shook her head and waved him off.

“Silent Night” played as he exited the kitchen. He bundled back into his coat and raised a prayer that all would remain calm and bright tonight.

As he neared the front door, it opened, and Tavish entered, carrying the box of red wine Callum had asked him to collect. Setting the box on the ground, he held out his hand.

Callum dug in his jeans’ pocket and pulled out the BMW keys, dropping them into his brother’s palm.

Tavish grinned and handed over the tarnished silvery thistle with its single key.

“Thanks for letting me use her this morning,” Callum said. “I know it’s only been a day, and already—”

“Dinnae make it a habit, Callum. Yi promised hur tae me fura month.” Tavish grinned and stuffed the keys into his pocket before picking up the box and taking it to the bar.

Callum looked back over his shoulder as he reached for the door handle. “Looks like all’s under control here. I’ll see you later then.”

“Aye.”

Nothing else to do but head home for a shower. But first he’d stop by the hospital and check on his patients, wish them a merry Christmas. There were still too many hours between now and getting ready for this evening. And that special wish from their doctor meant so much to them.

As the Beetle pulled away, Callum’s cellphone rang. Keeping his eyes on the road, he whipped the phone out of his top pocket. “Callum McGuire.”

“Cal, my love.”

His pulse rate quickened. Not again. He should’ve checked the caller ID first.

“Katie.” He resisted the urge to release a noisy sigh. “What is it this time?”

“I wanted to send you an early Christmas wish, Cal.” She blew a kiss through the phone.

When would it sink in that what they’d had was over? Perhaps he’d been too gentle in his attempts to get her to understand.

“What’s that noise in the background?” she asked.

“Noise?” Of course, she had been used to the purr of luxury, not the clatter of a banger. “Uh…I’ve had to use Tavish’s Beetle for a few days.”
Please don’t ask me why.
How would she react to the news of Skye? What if it caused her to run straight back to Glasgow, sick father or not?

“Why?”

What could he say now? He’d pretend he didn’t hear her. “Katie, I need to go. I’ve no hands-free kit in this car, so it’s difficult to talk.”

“All right.” Disappointment laced her voice. She drew a breath so deep Callum heard it. “You’re going to love the surprise I’ve planned for you for Christmas.”

What surprise? He hated surprises. Unless they were good ones, like Skye showing up unexpectedly at McGuire’s last night. “Katie.”

“I know, you can’t wait, but you’ll see soon enough when I give you your Christmas gift.”

“Katie, please. No gifts. No us, remember?”

“Yes, of course, I remember. This is just as friends.”

“Katie, I have to go. I’m at the hospital and I need to check on my patients.”

“OK. I’ll chat with you later. Love you.”

Callum cut the call without another word. He would have to toughen up on his dealings with her, or she’d never get the message.

~*~

Skye lit the heather-scented candle and placed it on the desk. Soon her hotel room filled with the smell of her childhood.

Standing in front of the mirror, she applied her makeup with care. She had to look perfect. The red bow lay on her bed—ready, waiting. Each time she glanced over between her applications of lipstick, blusher, eye-shadow, and mascara, its bright color caught her attention. She should’ve bought Callum something more special. Why did she buy the same gift as the rest of the family? She’d have no option now but to go with the bow and present herself to Callum as his gift. How would he feel though? Would it please him?
I don’t know.
He’d sent such mixed signals last night.

Her mind snapped back to the bow. Red. The color spoke volumes. Beauty, passion, fire, danger. Would wearing it incite Callum’s passion? She’d discovered in the Beetle yesterday that there was still plenty of that left. Or would she be playing with fire?

The color told of Christmas, too. Of blood. Of Jesus. Of salvation.

Should she wear it, or not?

Makeup done, she twisted her hair to the side in a loose French bun and fastened it with a decorative comb. The pale, pink silk flower matched her Angora wool pullover.

Jeans or slacks? She grabbed a pair of slender black pants from the cupboard. She didn’t want to be underdressed. Besides, she’d worn jeans last night.

Her feet wrapped in high-heeled leather boots, all she needed was a spray of perfume, and Callum McGuire would not be able to resist.

Her heart beat uncomfortably. She hadn’t been this excited since she was sixteen. But concern balanced that excitement. Why hadn’t Callum’s parents sought her out last night? They would’ve heard her singing with him. She’d expected them to bound through the crowded room and wrap their arms around her as they welcomed her home. What if they were evasive tonight? Would her presence spoil Christmas for the McGuire family?

She shrugged her concerns aside like an unwanted item of clothing. Silly. The pub had been madness last night. They were probably far too busy to come greet her. On top of that, she and Callum had left rather suddenly.

Skye stared at the bed where the bow beckoned. She picked it up and tied the two long red ribbons that hung down from the bow around her waist. Positioning the bow slightly to the left of her body, she took a long look in the mirror. She was a fine-looking gift. Callum would be pleased. Doubts turned her commendation to censure. What message would this send? Red was the color of harlots, too.

Ripping the bow from her body, she stuffed it in the trash can. She couldn’t take the slightest chance that Callum could misinterpret her light-hearted intention. The candle would have to suffice. It was too late to do anything else.

Perhaps she’d sing him a love song from her upcoming opera and dedicate it to him alone. There were many she could choose that would express her feelings for Callum. A smile touched her lips. Yes, that’s the special gift she’d give.

A knock at the door told Skye she was ready in the nick of time. She checked her hair and decided that the bow was exactly where it should be. In the trash.

Wearing a grin, she opened the door. “Callum…” She planted a soft kiss on his cheek as he stepped inside. He’d certainly dressed for the occasion. He looked good. Such style.

Elegant, black chisel-toe shoes, polished to a shine, peeked out from beneath the hem of his matching trousers. She’d love to see what shirt he wore beneath his knee-length trench coat. That blue shirt she’d considered buying earlier would’ve looked good. Around his neck he wore a tartan scarf similar to hers but in the orange and red of the McGuire clan. She’d wear hers, too. The scarf hugged his unshaven chin. So, the five o’clock shadow was a permanent feature. Nice.