‘I’m not so young, Mum.’ Cal pretended to flinch but his affection for his mother was undeniable. ‘And we’ll be back down shortly, I promise.’
The Butler house was old but with fresh décor that embraced the Scottish outdoors with an indoor cosiness. Sturdy oak flooring was complemented with tweed and tartan fabrics and walls in palette of heather, soft green andgrey. Cal led Bea along a hallway decorated in framed pictures of dramatic landscapes, Scottish wildlife and family portraits. They climbed a period style staircase and walked along another longish hallway before stopping at a large Edwardian four-panelled door. The synthetic smell of furniture wax permeated the space, but Bea could also smell history and love in this house. She wondered how many people had walked in and out of here since the house was built.
Cal opened the door to reveal a huge room. In the centre was an enormous bed with a fresh white comforter, topped with cushions in shades of heather and moss, and an expansive bay window framed with heavy dusk-pink tweed curtains. The window overlooked a sprawling lawn that commanded views down to the sea.
‘Was this your childhood bedroom?’ Bea was fascinated at being granted a peek behind the curtain of Cal’s life..
Cal put their bags down on the luggage rack. ‘Ha! No. That’s upstairs. But this one has a better view. It would also be a bit weird being with you in the place where I used to be a kid. I think we should share a more grown-up room. I can show you it later if you like.’ He cocooned Bea in his arms and kissed her.
‘I’d like that.’ Bea relished his hold, but the wrench between being so at home with Cal yet feeling like she didn’t belong was growing stronger. How was it possible to be falling in love with someone but know they were completely wrong for you? Bea had always thought these things just worked out, that love conquered all. Maybe that was not the case.
‘So, as much as I would like to stay here, let me give you a tour of the house then you can meet the family properly.’ Cal guided her by the shoulder to the door. ‘We’ll startoutside. I’ll sneak you out the back so we don’t get called to mingle before we’re ready.’
Cal led Bea down a different staircase at the end of the hallway. They exited into a courtyard with lawns that could have been manicured with nail scissors. A small path led down from the other side of the courtyard to a low stone building with a stream running alongside it.
‘This is the very first Butler distillery.’ Cal seemed taller and prouder, as he spoke. ‘It’s out of commission now, but it’s the original and the best. Just like me, the first of the siblings. Come on, I want to show you.’
‘Are you sure?’ Bea asked. ‘I feel bad when your mom is expecting us in the house.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with a full tour or anything. I want you to see where it all began.’
‘Okay,’ said Bea. ‘I’d love to.’
‘Great. So that’s the barrel store.’ Cal signalled a low stone building on the right. ‘Barrels of fun, that place.’ He moved on swiftly, taking and squeezing Bea’s hand as he did so. ‘And down here is the main building.’ They walked down a gravel path to the main distillery where Cal explained the history. ‘The distillery has expanded over the centuries, but this old building here dates back to 1798 when my dad’s ancestors founded it. Impressive, huh?’
‘It sure is,’ said Bea. ‘You’re obviously super proud of all this, so why aren’t you more involved in it?’
Cal quieted for a moment. ‘I am proud of my family,’ he said. ‘And things might change now that my dad’s unwell, but when I was younger I needed to step out on my own and prove I could be successful without them. Maybe that sounds daft, but inheriting a job wasn’t enough. I don’t know if you know what I mean. Most people think that’s stupid, but––’
‘I understand,’ said Bea. ‘I understand better than you think.’
‘You do?’ Cal brightened. ‘Are you a secret heiress or something?’
‘No. I get it, that’s all. I’d much rather work to be successful with my writing than have someone put a load of money in my lap.’
‘Yes, exactly,’ said Cal. ‘I guess it’s called a work ethic.’
To Bea, it was also self-respect. Knowing that whatever she achieved – which didn’t feel like much at the moment – she had worked for herself.
‘Although,’ Cal added, ‘Your writing sounds like it is already pretty successful to me.’
Bea knew she was still on the journey up the mountain, but she didn’t want to get into a conversation with Cal about her self-worth, so she simply said, ‘Thanks.’
‘That reminds me,’ said Cal. ‘Let me show you something else. Come on.’ He led Bea back up the path to the main house. Once inside, he guided her through several corridors to what may have been another wing where he opened the door into a large, airy but welcoming room filled wall to wall with shelves of books. The whole place smelled wonderful, like old faded pages, decades of knowledge and forbidden secrets.
‘Welcome to my mum’s library,’ Cal announced like a tour guide.
Bea spun round taking it all in. ‘Just your mom’s? There are a lot of books in here.’
‘Yeah. My dad has his own in his study upstairs. ‘These are all my mum’s books and these two walls over here are all your speciality.’
Bea paced over to the shelves. ‘Romance? Really? These are all romance books? Oh my goodness, so they are.’
‘Absolutely. I told you she loved romance. Can you see now why I got an appreciation of the genre, growing up with this within my grasp?’
‘I certainly can.’ Bea pulled a book out from the shelf and flicked through it. ‘This is an extraordinary collection.’
‘Took me nearly forty years to amass them all.’ Amanda’s voice came from the doorway. ‘Been collecting them since I was seventeen and I haven’t thrown a single title away. Although, I have to say I’m surprised that this is what Cal considers a highlight of our home. My book collection isn’t normally what wins people over.’
