Callan shook his head, trying to make sense of her words. Costume? Renaissance Faire? He didn’t know what she was talking about but she seemed kind, and was verra fetching, so he relaxed, watching her as she talked more about the Faire.
“I know not of this Faire,” he said, dragging out his words, remembering what someone had shouted at him. “’Twas a party that lasted overlong.”
Daisy took a drink from a huge bright blue cup, the likes of which he’d never seen before.
Callan swallowed and took a chance. “I am not familiar with this place. Somehow I have lost my way. Might you aid me in returning home?”
Her skin was so clear, not a single scar marred her face or arms as she held out a phone, like the small boxes he’d seen people staring at all day and night.
“Want to use my phone?”
Lucy had said that odd word, and he now knew that she, too, was a traveler. Did William know his wife was from another time or had she kept the secret from him? With her odd speech and manners, he must know.
Callan placed a hand on the bench. The acceptance of traveling through time to the future finally settling deep within him.
When he didn’t answer right away, she tapped on the phone and looked at him. “Let’s call you a car. Where to?”
He thought for a moment and brightened. “Where is North Carolina?”
“Wow, that is really far from Boston. You don’t sound southern, aren’t you from Scotland?”
“Aye, I was born in Scotland, but now England is my home.”
“That’s way far away.” Her brows went up. “How about a plane? Once you get there, you can take a train or boat or something.”
The sun caught bits of gold in her hair as she quickly pulled the cloth loose, captured the errant lock and piled it back atop her head.
Callan hesitated. A car was a metal horseless carriage, and whilst he had no idea what a train or plane was, he had only said North Carolina because Lucy said ’twas where she hailed from and he thought perchance he might meet her kin and they would aid him.
“I have little of the green paper money,” he admitted.
Daisy nodded as she packed up the dog’s bowl and placed it in her purple pack.
“I know exactly what you mean. Try holding down multiple jobs.”
She tilted her face to the sun. “I pet sit, walk dogs, house sit, run errands, and I run social media for a small business, so my hours are really flexible, which is great because I love working at the Faire every year.”
She held up a pendant she was wearing. Callan leaned in, catching the smell of roses as he admired the fine work. The pendant held a shard of green and white pottery set in silver.
“’Tis beautiful.”
“I worked in a booth last summer, and as part of my pay, the artist’s wife gave me the pendant. This year I told them I’d work wherever they needed me. It’s so fun being surrounded by like-minded people.”
Callan couldn’t believe people paid money for her to walk their dogs. Why did they not just let them run about outside?
And why would a rich noble pay this lass to sit in his home? Did his servants not watch over the estate when he was away?
When she stopped talking, he pulled out the bag of coins from his sporran, opened it, and held it out to her.
“Is this enough for you to aid me?”
“Oh my gosh, those coins look like they’re made of gold and are really, really old. Put that away.” She looked around, the color high in her face.
“Do you want someone to rob you? Sheesh. Enough with the hot medieval highlander act.”
Callan stiffened as he put the money back in his sporran.
“I am not hot, ’tis a most pleasant day.”
