“Aye, you’re welcome.” Malcolm takes a bite of his food—something called a pizza crunch which unfortunately has gluten. “So, you’ve got Scottish heritage? How far back?”
I look up from where I’d been studying my bean and cheese baked tattie.“I don’t know, actually. I took one of those DNA tests. I’m mostly from Western Europe, and a large portion of that was Scotland. I think the results definitely bolstered my slight obsession with this place.”
“That’s interesting. I don’t know if I know anyone who has done one of those. It would be braw to find something surprising, don’t you think? Like with your results showing Western Europe, what if there was some rogue two percent that came from somewhere unexpected.”
“Yeah. Like if I were two percent Argentinian. How would that have happened?” I take a bite of my potato. Very good. I can eat this. And I know it’s safe. Malcolm talked to the cook.
I wish he were always with me to do that. I hate always having to make a fuss when I go eat. Most people are very understanding, but there are some who are obviously put out. It’s not like I can help it. I certainly wouldn’t choose it. So Malcolm taking that off of me was so very nice.
“It would certainly be a mystery. Unfortunately, one you likely couldn’t figure out,” he says.
“I think that would drive me a little nuts. I would want to know the story. I’d probably make one up in my mind.”
“Imagine your fifteen-times-great-grandmother is on a ship from England to Spain, but the ship gets blown off course and endsup in Argentina.”
“That’s quite off course. Likely months. They would have probably starved or died of dehydration. And isn’t it dangerous to go around the tip of South America?”
“This is fiction, Makenna. We can do what we want.” Malcolm sips his water, and I patiently wait to hear about my family’s epic history. “So anyway, her ship finally arrives and she’s met by some sort of bandits. Argentina has bandits, don’t you think?”
I swallow a bite of potato. I’ll have to try to make this at home. “I would say every country has bandits. Although I’m not sure what a bandit technically is.”
He grins. “A bad guy. Probably wearing a mask and carrying a sword.”
“Do you think they wear black hats?”
“Oh, aye. For sure they do.”
“What about capes?”
“Seems like they would get in the way of all the fighting and bad guy activities.”
I burst out laughing. “Please tell me more about these bad guy activities.”
Malcolm looks at me seriously. “Back to the story, Makenna. You’ve taken us seriously off course.”
“Much like my many times great-grandmother’s ship.”
He suppresses a smile. “Indeed. So the bandits say, ‘Give us all your gold and chocolate!’ and she says, ‘We had to throw the gold overboard in astorm, and I don’t know what chocolate is.’”
I set my fork down, food completely forgotten. I’m enraptured by his storytelling. “When was chocolate invented?”
“I have nae clue. When would your fifteen-times-great-grandmother have been a young woman?”
“Umm … The 1600s? 1700s?”
“Hmm. I think she would have known what chocolate was. Okay … the bandits say, ‘Give us all your gold and chocolate!’ and she says, ‘We had to throw the gold overboard in a storm, and you’ll have to fight me for the chocolate!’”
“She does sound like someone I’d be related to.” My heart shoots out arrows toward Malcolm. He is everything I would look for in a man. I sure wish he didn’t livehere.
“I knew I had made the right call getting those chocolate biscuits for you.”
“You really did.” I sip my water. “Speaking of biscuits, have you ever had chocolate gravy?”
He looks absolutely scandalized. “What in the world? No.”
“I’ll make you some. What if I make dinner?”
“Chocolate gravy is a dinner food?”
