“Shhh!” Kilda Gray called out. “Ann Inkster has something to say.”
Everyone immediately stopped speaking and swiveled to stare at the young lass. She was notoriously shy and had never spoken at a meeting.
“I ...” Ann Inkster’s throat worked up and down, as if the word had become stuck there. Some murmurs began to arise, but Rose waved them into silence. She gave the girl a warm, encouraging smile, and Ann’s thin shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
“I ... like working for Miss Van Etten too. She is very nice.” Ann spoke so softly that no one would have heard her if they all hadn’t been perfectly silent.
“Thank you, Ann.” Rose’s own voice had grown thick with emotion. “Your words mean ever so much to me. Experience like yours at Muckle Skaill is key to this plan, and I am so glad that you shared it with all of us.”
Ann lifted her chin and beamed at the compliment. Sinclair had never seen the lass looking so confident. Beside the young woman, her mother, Janet, watched her daughter proudly. And Rose had donethis. She’d known what an effort Ann had made to speak, and she’d acknowledged, cultivated it.
Aye, Rose was meant to be a leader. She was even halfway to convincing him of the merits of her plan for a hotel.
Rose had organized thousands of parties before, yet none had felt quite like this. When she’d first climbed onto the rock, she’d felt like she was playing her old role of Belle of the Ball, Hostess of Hilarity, Denizen of Drama, and Motoriste of Mayhem. But as soon as she’d started addressing the crofters’ concerns about the hotel, that feeling had slowly begun to fade. Ann Inkster hadn’t just found her own confidence; she’d inspired Rose’s as well.
Even now as the conversation transitioned into preparing for the race and the ceilidh, Rose didn’t feel the empty futility that she’d experienced when planning the Armistice ball last November in Daytona. Thorfinn had convinced her not to pay the crofters for their contributions to the ceilidh, but she hoped the event would show off island life and convince guests to return.
“I can make my lamb stew,” Widow Craigie offered.
“And we can show the guests how to dance!” Barbara and Mary shouted as they bounced up and down.
“I can organize those with fishing boats to help ferry the guests staying in Kirkwall back and forth,” Ron Inkster suggested.
“Those are all perfect ideas!” Rose said. “And if you wanted to take some of the guests on tours of Scapa Flow and the interned German fleet, I am sure you can charge a fee if you desire.”
“Now that’s a fine idea,” Ron said.
“We’ll want to make sure there is plenty of drink available. I’d love every guest to take home a bottle. Once the world gets a taste of Frest Whiskey, the orders will keep coming,” Rose promised.
“How long will you be in Edinburgh planning the race?” Astrid asked.
“I think about a week or so,” Rose said carefully, hoping that Astrid was only being curious. It was a natural question, but it also was something a spy on the island would wish to know. Rose hadn’t failed to notice that Astrid was the only one who’d expressed concern about Thorfinn shutting down operations at Fornhowe to investigate the collapse. Rose didn’t like suspecting the young woman, whom she was starting to think of as a friend, but she also couldn’t ignore the trickles of worry seeping through her.
“We shall miss you!” Ann Inkster said in a surprisingly loud voice. The young lady blushed, seeming more shocked than the rest of the crowd at her loud exclamation.
“And I shall miss all of you too,” Rose said, and she was surprised how choked up she’d become from both Ann’s words and her own emotions. “But I’ll be back before we know it.”
With that, she stepped away from the flat rock to let the crofters talk among themselves. The sun was below the horizon now, and the meeting would be ending shortly.
Breathing in the salty air, Rose turned toward Scapa Flow. The water shimmered silver and gold, reminding her of a Christmas ornament illuminated by flickering candlelight. The beauty of it struck her so forcefully that it almost hurt.
“You make a good laird.” Thorfinn’s deep voice rumbled through her like one of the glittering sea waves.
“You were the impressive one today, Mr.Land Agent.” Rose turned to him. “I’ve always been able to plan a good party.”
“It’s much more than that, and you know it,” Thorfinn said roughly, sending a pleasant shock through her.
“You mean you approve of the race and the hotel?” Rose lifted both her eyebrows, as an unexpected sense of triumph roared through her. Itwas not so much that she craved this man’s approval but the fact that she’dearnedit.
Thorfinn squinted out into the brilliantly illuminated sea. “I am still hesitant, but the young folks who work at Muckle Skaill seem enthused. It’s also clear that you’re not just trying to host some grand festivities. You’re set on establishing a business.”
“A frivolous one?” Rose kicked at a clump of sand as she voiced one of her greatest fears about her proposed venture.
Thorfinn gave her a hard stare, as if he could see all the doubts, all the emptiness swirling inside her. “You have taught me that just because something shines brightly does not mean that there is not something solid beneath it. The two are not the contradictions we sometimes think they are. There can be strength in brightness that I never considered before.”
Strength in brightness.The words touched something inside Rose, and she felt possibility awaken like a bud unfurling toward the sun. She’d never considered her blitheness as a powerful thing, even if she’d always wielded it to protect herself, toidentifyherself. Rose was not sure if she felt entirely comfortable with connecting cheer with grit, but she didn’t dislike the notion either. Perhaps ... perhaps it was something she needed to explore further.
Chapter 12
