She arched a brow and waited, knowing a translation was forthcoming. The scamp knew she didn’t understand a word of Latin.
With the wisdom of an old soul glinting in his dark eyes, he lifted both hands and smiled. “To the stars through difficulties.”
“Well said, my dearest brat.” She started the engine and turned into the back street that led to the hotel. “Maybe we’ll get yer results in the post today. Think so?”
“I told ye they are fine. Ye are a much better teacher than the ones at school.” His tone went cold and flat. Like always whenever he spoke of his education. “And even if they are not—which I doubt—I willna go back there. Not for nothing.”
“I wouldna make ye,” she promised. As his godmother and legal guardian since the car accident that took his parents, she had done her best to protect and defend him. But the school had sided with the parents of the bullies who made Robbie’s life miserable. Never again. Nonetheless, even though she considered herself a well-educated, intelligent woman, homeschooling this advanced lad was a challenge. Half the time, he taught her the material rather than the other way around. Except for history. On that subject, she always bested him.
The rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers turned to a squeaky drag as the rain lessened. Thank goodness. With the visitors already grumpy, they needed at least a wee bit of sunshine to make the day better. She spotted a group milling about at the back of the place as she waited for oncoming traffic to pass.
“They’re already outside.” She turned the minibus into the hotel’s large parking lot. “Remember Cari’s text, lad. Turn on yer charm, aye?”
“I dinna think I have that much,” he said while stretching to eye their guests. “Ye sure about this bunch?”
“They have already paid.”
“Into the breach, then.”
Ten ladies, all exhibiting varying levels of grumpiness, waited beneath the canopy at the rear of the Old Town Hostelry.
“They look pure, dead miserable,” Robbie said as Mila brought the minibus to a halt.
“That they do.” She put on her best smile and nodded for him to do the same. “But we shall make their day better, aye?”
His dubious scowl mirrored her doubts.
She opened the door and hopped out to greet them. “Good morning, ladies. Are ye ready to enjoy Scotland’s many wonders?”
“I am ready for the rain to stop,” said the one with the hood of her bright pink raincoat pulled so low that all that showed was her wrinkly frown.
“Och now, it’s already faded to a wee mizzle. Sure to stop soon.” Mila motioned them forward. “Think of it as future whisky and fresh water to sate yer thirst.” Her cheeks ached with the forced smile as, one by one, they grumbled their way onto the bus. “I am Mila Carthson, and in the seat behind mine is my assistant, Robbie Abernathy. It is our pleasure to meet each of ye.”
None of the ladies bothered to respond with a smile, a nod, or their names.
“If I don’t sit in the front, I will vomit. You know that, Mildred.” The scowling lady in the hot-pink raincoat bared her teeth at a purple-haired woman cloaked in a crinkly black poncho. While the fuchsia rain-slicker woman appeared petite and fragile, she stubbornly straddled both front seats on the right side of the bus.
Each time the poncho-clad Mildred tried to shove her way into the aisle seat, Ms. Pink pushed back and refused to let her sit.
“There are two seats, Winona. Since when does hogging two seats cure motion sickness?” Mildred pushed closer so the last pair of the group could squeeze past her, then she angled back into the center of the aisle, glaring down at her travel mate.
Unable to get past Mildred and into the driver’s seat, Mila stood on the steps. “We usually rotate seats at every stop so everyone gets an opportunity to sit in front.” She cast a gently shaming frown at Winona. “And everyone gets one seat. Not two.”
“I have to stay in the front the whole trip or you’ll be cleaning up barf.” Winona shoved back her hood and jutted her powdered chin higher.
“If ye would be so kind as to scoot over so yer friend can sit, we will be on our way.” Mila noticed the rest of the group seemed enthralled by the standoff, as though it was their favorite form of entertainment.
“She is not my friend, and I got here first.” The woman jerked a nod and resettled her outstretched position. Tittering laughter rippled through the bus.
“Kindly shove over, Ms. Winona, or I shall have to ask ye to get off the bus and make other arrangements for a tour.” Mila stared the woman down. This was not the way to start the day. While she didn’t want bad reviews, she refused to tolerate such unreasonable behavior. And she also refused to be bullied. Gasps and mutterings rippled through the seniors.
“You can’t talk to her like that.” Mildred squared off her cloaked girth like a great black crow guarding a bit of roadkill.
“That’s right,” shouted someone from the back. “Customers are always right, you know!”
For the first time that morning, snarling pink lady Winona gleamed a broad smile and scooted over. “Thank you, Mildred.” She twisted in the seat and waved at her supporter in the back. “Thank you, Doreen.”
“You are quite welcome.” After a smug, snorting huff, Mildred seated herself with a haughty flounce of her crackling black wrap.
