All it was missing was Cian. I was sure he would love to relax in a room where he wouldn’t need to chop wood to keep warm. He’d appreciate the running water and plumbing so he didn’t have to go out in the cold and color the snow.
Maybe I could get his friend, John, to help convince him to come back to the room with me. He could wait until dark, maybe sneak up a back staircase. Or just forget his kilt and wear a disguise!
He didn’t have to hurry home to milk the cows or feed his chickens. Another twenty-four hours together wouldn’t hurt a thing.
After pointing out a gift basket of snacks and a bottle of whiskey and glasses waiting on a platter for me, my host headed for the door. I fawned over all of it, thanked him profusely for his generosity, and made it clear that I would be out of there in a couple of days at the most.
His eyes widened, and he shook his head while insisting that it takes time to feel hale and healthy again, and I was to take my time. He added that my things should be arriving soon, but in the meantime, there was a robe in the bathroom. His hand rose to gesture at his own hair while he looked at mine. I didn’t understand his words, but the meaning was clear.
I needed to clean up before I showed myself again.
“Cameras can be unkind,” he said, backing out the door. “The cèilidh begins at seven. If ye could come doon a wee bit before, ye could get the interviews oot o’ the wee. Shall we say six, then?”
“Kaylee?”
“The hoolie. The party, lass.”
“And what interviews?”
“Auch, joost the usual. Reporters and sooch.”
“Great. Can you tell me how far it is to the armory?”
“Did ye need soomthin’ repaired?”
“No. I just… I wanted to talk to a man who works there.”
“No one there but John.”
“Yeah. That’s him.”
“Nae worries. Ye’ll see him doonstairs in a few hours. The whole region will be here.” And with no more time to spare for me, he hurried away.
I needed a phone, but mine was in a locker at the Glenmore Visitor’s Center. I found a landline in my room and pushed the button for the operator.
“How can I help?”
“Can you give me the number for the nearest armory?”
“Did ye need somethin’ mended then? We have a maintenance man?—”
“No, thank you. Nothing like that. Do you have the number? Or could you connect me?”
“Here’s the number, then.”
I wrote it down, thanked her, and figured out how to get an outside line. The rest of the world and my worries fell away just knowing that whomever answered the phone would be standing next to Cian. Just a few rings, and we’d be connected again.
The ringing stopped. “Hiya. Thank ye for callin’. The armory is open…”
I hung up, impatient, and called again. Surely someone would realize it was important if the phone kept ringing, wouldn’t they?
“Hiya. Thank ye for?—”
I called four times. No one ever picked up. So I called the lobby and asked for a taxi.
“I’ll ring ye back if I can find one,” a young guy said. “With everyone comin’ in, yer chances are?—”
“It’s okay. I can walk. Can you tell me how far away the armory is?”
