‘Is that what it’s all about then?’ he asks. ‘The shopping? The obsession with wearing the right thing at all times? It’s not about standing out for you, like it is with all the rest of them, is it? It’s about fitting in.’
I pause, struck by the insightfulness of this observation, especially coming from a man who barely even knows me.
‘I grew up poor,’ I tell him, deciding to trust him with something I’ve never really admitted to anyone else. ‘With three older sisters and a mum who was on her own and couldn’t afford to buy us new things. All of my clothes were hand-me-downs. Everything was at least two years out of date. And I went to a school where that kind of thing mattered far too much, so, needless to say, I didn’t exactly fit in. And, yeah, I guess now I try to shop my way out of the feeling of being a perpetual misfit. I always feel like if I can just find the right outfit, or the right piece of furniture, or .?.?. the right thing .?.?. then my life will be perfect. And it never is, but I still keep trying. I know how stupid that sounds, trust me.’
‘It doesn’t sound stupid, Rosie,’ says Hunter. ‘But no one’s life is perfect. Not even those women you’re trying so hard to be like.’
I think about Bex and Daniel, arguing in the grounds; Millie’s big blue eyes filling with tears when she spoke about some of the horrible comments she gets.
Maybe he’s right.
Although, right now, I’d still rather have their lives than mine. At least that way I’d have somewhere to live when I leave here. And be able to take a sauna without worrying someone might try to kill me.
‘So, who’s the number one suspect?’ Hunter asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘Oh, come on, don’t pretend you don’t have a list. I can tell you do.’
‘So far I’m thinking either Sabrina or Dante,’ I reply, secretly grateful for the opportunity to air these thoughts rather than just obsessing endlessly over them in private. ‘They’ve had the most opportunity. Oh, and neither of them particularly wants me here, do they? Especially not Sabrina. She hates me. And Dante’s not exactly warm, either.’
‘He’s got a lot on his plate,’ says Hunter, carefully. ‘It’s a big responsibility, running a place like this. The Laird puts a lot of pressure on him. And, just between you and me, I don’t think Sabrina’s business is doing too well, either. So she probably has a lot riding on this launch, too. I wouldn’t take anything they say too personally, you know? Stress does funny things to people. And, like I say, no one’s life is perfect. Not even mine, even though it looks it.’
He grins, gesturing at the towering pile of laundry behind him.
‘I guess not,’ I reply, thinking about him trying to raise his daughter on his own while living in the picturesque middle of nowhere. ‘Although this place does seem pretty perfect to me, at least. It’s so beautiful. I always thought I was a city girl, but scenery like this could easily change my mind.’
‘Aye, well, I’m not much of a city person myself,’ Hunter replies, taking another sip of his drink. ‘Too many people for my liking. Out here you can hear yourself think. There’s a freedom you don’t get in the city. You can be yourself here. If you want to, that is.’
‘Oh, I do,’ I reply, captivated by the picture he’s painting of Highland life. ‘Idowant to be myself.’
Or, at least IthinkI do.
‘Maybe not thisexactversion of myself,’ I qualify, an image of me emerging, tomato-faced from the sauna, popping suddenly into my head. ‘But a better one. The version of myself I’m going to be once I’ve finished figuring out who she is, exactly.’
And once the Chrysalis has worked its magic on me.
‘Well, there’s nothing like being out there in nature to focus the mind,’ Hunter says quietly. ‘And you wouldn’t be the first person to come to the Highlands to “find” themselves.’
‘You know,youshould be the face of the Chrysalis,’ I tease, struck by the solemnity of his tone. ‘You’re the perfect advert for it. You’re making me want to quit my job and just stay here forever.’
‘Aye. Me too,’ he replies, a faraway expression stealing into his eyes. ‘I, er, I wishIcould stay forever, I mean. Not you. Although you’d be very welcome to stay too, I’m sure. If you wanted to, obviously.’
He quickly picks up his glass, then sets it down again when he realises it’s empty, and I smile at how flustered he is, in spite of his rugged, man-of-few-words act.
‘Wait, what do you mean you wish you could stay too?’ I ask as the words in question sink in. ‘Don’t you live here?’
I indicate the room around us, with all of its signs of life.
‘For now, aye. I don’t know how long we’ll be staying, though,’ Hunter replies, stroking Stevie’s head as the huge dog jumps up beside us, folding his long limbs underneath him on the couch. ‘It depends how well the launch goes, really. Everything’s riding on that. If the hotel doesn’t do well, it’s not going to stay open for long; and if it doesn’t stay open . . . well, it’s back to Edinburgh for me and Hannah.’
‘But .?.?. you said you hated the city?’ I protest, trying to imagine him squashed into a crowded bus, or sitting trapped behind a desk somewhere, when everything about him screams of fresh air and wide open spaces.
I just can’t do it, though. It wouldn’t work. He’d be as out of place as I’ve always been – although something tells me Hunter Stuart wouldn’t try nearly as hard to make himself fit in.
‘Oh, I do,’ he replies, nodding. ‘If it was up to me, I’d never go back. But we don’t always get the things we want in life, do we?’
His voice is sad, but resigned. I want to argue with him – to tell him thatof coursewe should all get the things we want most, whatever they happen to be. But, then again, that’s the kind of talk that just made me spend £120 on a sweatshirt everyone made fun of, so I guess I can’t really talk here.
‘I suppose not,’ I say, reaching out to stroke Stevie’s furry body, and finding myself stroking Hunter’s hand instead.
‘Oops. Sorry. Too much whisky, I think.’
