“How long do I have?”
“Twenty-four hours seems like a reasonable timeframe,” Mrs. MacLeish decides after consulting the others with a glance. “I already called a few inns in Inverness. They have vacancies.”
“Very thoughtful of you.”
She either misses the sarcasm or pretends not to hear it.
“McGregor Castle might be looking for a live-in doctor,” Duncan suggests. “Maggie McGregor’s health has been fragile lately, apparently.”
The others nod knowingly.
“The castle,” I repeat.
“It’s a possibility,” Mrs. MacLeish confirms. “A good solution, actually, if you ask me.”
There’s something in their expressions I don’t understand.
But I’m too angry to investigate.
“Thanks for the advice.”
I head toward the door.
“Doctor McLeod?” Mrs. MacLeish calls after me.
I turn around.
“There’s still porridge left if you’d like breakfast.”
I stare at her.
She stares back with bewildering sincerity.
“No thanks,” I finally say. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
I climb the stairs, every step feeling higher than the last.
Once inside my room, I close the door and lean against the wood.
Thoughts crash into each other inside my head.
A village tribunal.
A formal vote.
An eviction disguised as a constructive suggestion.
I pull out my phone and call Nate.
He answers on the third ring.
“Finn? What’s going on?”
“You are not going to believe what just happened to me.”
“Let me guess. The village organized a meeting to kick you out?”
I freeze.
