“How does he support his family?”
“He’s an attorney, like our father.” The old man pulled a face, but she continued. “It’s different in the US. Attorneys do it all, so there’s not a difference between barristers and solicitors. Like doctors, they have specialties. My father owns a successful firm that specializes in civil law, rather than criminal. Ross is working hard to become a partner.”
“Dalrymple said you are engaged to a billionaire. Are you one ofthosewomen?”
Eve didn’t respond right away. The venom he’d put in his last words made her hackles rise, but she didn’t want to fight with him. The old man might not realize it, but he had no power over her, while she was definitely at an advantage, if only because he seemed so fragile lying in the bed, afraid of the light.
“Darius was a dear friend in high school, and we’ve only recently become reacquainted. We’re here in Scotland because he’s in the process of creating a charity and we were doing a test case for a teen girl with lupus. So, I’m not sure what you mean bythose women.”
“The leeches like the ones your uncle Duncan always had clinging to him, including the one he married. She was always taking, never satisfied with what she had. Her son is no better.”
The door opened and Alan entered, followed by Mrs. Campbell, who carried a tray.
“No digestives, I’m afraid,” the housekeeper said. “But I brought a scone.” She set it on the table and left.
Eve met her grandfather’s assessing gaze. He said to Alan, “My granddaughter will serve tea. You may leave.” The man gave her a hard look but did as he was told.
“What do you like on your scone?” she asked when they were alone again. “When we were in Ireland, I discovered I’m a huge fan of clotted cream. It’s hard to find in the US, and believe me, I’ve checked. I guess it has a really short shelf life so it doesn’t export well.”
“I’ll have my scone plain and only a half.”
“I don’t think so. Most people have to be careful with how much sugar they take in, but for someone like you who doesn’t have an appetite, I think we need to increase it. It’ll make you hungry.”
In spite of his scowl, she cut a scone into quarters and loaded them the way she liked it with the clotted cream and jam, going a little heavy with the latter. Eve set the plate on his lap before turning to the teapot. She put a generous spoonful of honey in his tea. Her maternal grandmother had experienced a series of mini strokes that had impacted her sense of taste and therefore her appetite. The only way they’d been able to get her appetite back had been to feed her sweets, gourmet chocolates to be exact. Once they had her eating again, it’d been easier to keep her diet balanced.
“Here’s your tea.” Eve shifted his bedside table so that it was within easy reach. “Are you bedridden or are you able to get up and move around?”
“Iwalk,” he said indignantly. “What right do you have to ask me this?”
“Remember, I’m a nurse. It comes naturally.” She pointed to the scone. “You need to take another bite of that.”
When he glared at her, she took his hand and moved it toward his mouth.
“I can feed myself, woman.”
“Then do it.” Eve put her hands on her hips and did her best to channel her father. “You’re bein’ a wee scunner!”
Her grandfather blinked. She imagined it’d been a long time since anyone had called him a whiner. Then he surprised her with a burst of laughter.
“Now be careful or you’ll make a mess on your bedspread, and Mrs. Campbell will come after me for it.”
Still chuckling, he let her settle his plate and willingly took a bite of his scone. She handed him a napkin, and he wiped his hands. With a nudge, she moved the cup a little closer to his hand, and he took a sip.
“’Tis too sweet. How much honey did you put in it?”
“Enough, I hope, to help make you hungry. If I’d known this was going to be your problem, I would’ve brought you some Tablet.” Eve wasn’t a fan of the crystallized fudge-like candy. She didn’t like the grainy texture, but her father loved it. “I wonder if Mrs. Campbell has the ingredients here at the house. Maybe we can make you some. What’s your favorite flavor? Whisky?” She winked at him.
“You impudent lassie,” he cried, but there was no malice in the words.
“Och, no. Not I. You must be mistaking me with someone else.”
Her grandfather began to eat, chuckling periodically. Eve must not be what he’d expected, which pleased her. When he’d eaten three quarters of the scone, he pushed it aside. It was a good start, and she was satisfied. She moved everything to the tray and then pulled the chair by his bed.
“You’ve had a couple of cups of tea, and I’ve been here for a good hour. Do you need to use the toilet? I can call Alan, if you need help.”
“Not yet. I want you to tell me about your mother. Is she from America?”
“Yes, born and bred. My mother’s family weren’t free until the end of the US Civil War, but my father’s people were never slaves. His line came as indentured servants to the new colony and earned headrights for land in the Chesapeake Bay area. He sold it and moved his family to Massachusetts where we’ve lived for a couple hundred years.” Eve let her pride show. “They fought in the American Revolutionary War and later in the Civil War on the side of the North. Members of my family have fought for the US in every conflict.”
