“That’ll be seven pounds,” he said, handing her the pie along with a white plastic fork.
Nora paid the man and then retreated back to the thoroughfare, stabbing her fork into the pie and pulling out a morsel of carrot and a small piece of meat.Here goes nothing, she thought, taking a tentative bite. The flavors of rosemary and thyme danced on her tongue, accompanied by a subtle hint of what she guessed was red wine. The meat was tender and melted in her mouth while the buttery crust provided just the right balance of texture. To her surprise, it was quite delicious.See, trying new things isn’t that bad, she thought as she chewed her bite and looked around.
Navigating through the bustling market felt like playing a game of pinball, bouncing off people’s shoulders as she moved through the busy rows. Trying to protect her pie while struggling amid the crowd, Nora finally found an empty spot near a vendor tent and tucked herself away to eat the rest of her pie in peace.
Emerging from her hideaway after a few minutes, she was just about to toss the final bit of pie in the trash when the damn cannon went off again. She turned abruptly toward the sound and unexpectedly crashed into someone. She had collided with a man walking in the opposite direction, and the last morsel of the pie tragically landed squarely on his chest.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” she sputtered, her cheeks blooming with embarrassment. Quickly she stepped back to inspect the person she had just run into. Her eyes met a man who looked to be around her age. He had a thick head of dark blond hair, a light five o’clock shadow, and his green eyes were full of utter annoyance. He was handsome, yet the furrowed brows and irritated expression indicated he was far from pleased. Nora’s heartleaped into her throat, and the once-enjoyable meat pie now felt like a heavy brick in her stomach as she braced for the aftermath of the collision.
He looked down at his chest and then up at her, his eyes narrowing with disgust.
“Stupid bloody Americans. Why can’t you just stay in your own country?” he spat, brushing off a piece of crust and carrot from his jacket.
Momentarily stunned by his rude response, Nora stood there as he briskly walked away.Who the hell did he think he was? What a complete ass, she thought as she picked up the to-go box from the ground and tossed it into a nearby bin. She watched him as he pushed through the crowd, his arrogance apparent in every step he took as he faded from view. She had never been talked to so rudely.
She took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm herself, but his words kept echoing in her head, surfacing the question that had been buried in her mind since her arrival: Why was she here? Yes, she wanted to honor her grandmother’s final wish, but deep down she had wished this journey might lead her to discover her own true calling. Now Nora couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she should have stayed in America. Maybe she was chasing after something that didn’t exist. Perhaps it was time to stop fighting against the tide and embrace the familiar, to accept her fate and take over the bakery like her mother had always expected. But even as she entertained the idea, a small voice inside her whispered that there was still so much more out there waiting for her, if only she had the courage to reach out and seize it.
As her mind raced, the sky darkened with a thick layer of clouds, and large snowflakes gently descended as she began walking through the market stalls again. Trying desperately to pullthe heavy thoughts from her mind and focus on the present, she began searching for something she could buy as a memento. In spite of the array of enchanting crafts, nothing caught her eye.
As hard as she tried to enjoy herself, the run-in with the rude man sent her into a downward spiral that she just couldn’t pull herself out of. She eventually gave up looking and decided to head back to her rental. There was no point—she was locked in this mood and the only thing that was going to pull her out of it was a tall glass of wine.
She turned on her heels and began walking back toward the front of the market when a vendor tent pulled her attention. The small stall was tended by an old gentleman, his back hunched with age and his hair as white as the snow itself. He sold small hand-painted ceramic Christmas baubles adorned in a Celtic folk art style with rich, earthy tones. The ornaments hung off display stands around the stall, enchanting the space with the spirit of the holiday season.
Nora explored the tent, spinning a few bulbs as she inspected them from every angle. One caught her eye—a small ornament, no bigger than a tangerine, in a deep royal blue. White foxes painted against the blue backdrop ran through fallen leaves toward a small Celtic knot with three points connected by a circle. It reminded Nora of the old blue-and-white china plates her grandmother used for special dinners during her childhood.
Unable to resist, she slid the ornament off the hook, turning it in her hands. The cold ceramic quickly warmed to her touch, and after a moment, it almost felt as if it were growing hot. Walking over to the man, she held it out in front of her.
“Hello, how much for this?” she asked.
“Why, hello. Let me see,” he said, pulling down a pair of wire-rimmed glasses from his head of thick white hair and placingthem on the bridge of his nose. He inspected the ornament. “Oh, this is one of my favorites. I painted it years ago. I’m glad it’s finally found its owner,” he said as he wrapped it in tissue paper and then tucked it safely in a bag. “For you, my dear, it’s free. I do believe it’s meant for you.” He handed her the bag.
A peculiar feeling settled in her gut. His words were almost the same as what the woman at the bookstore had said to her just yesterday. What a bizarre coincidence.
She looked at him and smiled, even though a creeping feeling was working its way through her.
“Thank you, that’s very kind, but I would like to pay you for the hard work you put into making it.”
“No need. I am just happy it’s finally found its purpose,” he said to her with a sparkle in his eye.
Not wanting to offend the man and ready to be done with the market, she thanked him and took the bag, then headed back onto the main thoroughfare toward the exit.
Approaching the gateway that led back onto the street, Nora spotted a tall Christmas tree to her right. Adorned with thousands of sparkling twinkle lights, it was the perfect tree to recreate the photo of her grams, even if it was outdoors.
Walking over, she spotted an older woman nearby enjoying a large, frosted sugar cookie.
“Excuse me,” Nora asked hesitantly, “would you mind taking a photo of me?”
The woman smiled warmly. “Of course, dear.”
Posing gracefully, Nora lifted one hand toward the tree’s top, just as her grandmother had in the photo, and forced a smile even though her heart wasn’t truly in it.
Taking her phone back, Nora thanked the woman and made her way out of the gates onto the bustling street. Glancing backat the tree, she found it almost entirely obscured by the throng of people wandering through the market, only its tip peeking above the crowd. An odd sensation stirred within her, the same energy she’d felt near the monument yesterday. She rubbed her arms, attributing the feeling to a mere chill, but deep down, she sensed it was something far more mysterious in the Scottish air around her.
Chapter Fourteen
The Collision of Worlds
It was a quarter past two when Nora returned to her rental, and the sun was dipping into the sky behind the towering buildings in the city. Her plans to stop at a restaurant on the way back had been halted as the temperature plummeted. It had grown bitterly cold since she left the market, and all she wanted to do was turn on the gas fireplace in the apartment and warm herself by it.
