“We’ll see,” he grumbled. And then a thought occurred to him, and he studied her suspiciously. “Why did you take the job? You didn’t, by any chance, hear about the severance cheques she hands out when she fires someone? Because I can tell you now, there will be no money when you leave here. I’ve put an end to that.”
She shook her head at him as though disappointed. “I took the job because you needed a good cook. And I’m a good cook. I won’t bother you further. I’ll send Donna a text message.” She paused at the bend in the corridor. “I also took the job because I understand.”
As she turned away, Duncan couldn’t stop from asking, “Understand what?”
She looked back over her shoulder at him. “I understand what it’s like to lose your spouse.”
Duncan felt like he’d been punched in the gut. She was there out of pity? He didn’t need pity. He wanted to roar after her. To fire her for daring to suggest such a thing, but she was already gone. And he was left pacing a corridor, outside a room he couldn’t enter, because he’d lost the courage to do so when he’d lost his wife.
***
“Oh crap.” Donna read the text message from their new cook. She’d hoped it would be months before Grace met Duncan. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten to tell her not to hunt him down.
She hurriedly texted Grace back. I promise he won’t fire you. Yet. Just order what you need from the store, and I’ll sort things out this end. I’m in Campbeltown anyway. And once I get back, I’ll make sure you have all the account info you need. Sorry I forgot to give it to you before I left. Before she’d run out the door to scheme behind her boss’s back.
Life was getting far too complicated, and seriously stressful. There was no doubt about it—she was going to crack. It was a certainty. The only thing she couldn’t predict was the timing. She wasn’t cut out for subterfuge. Mairi and Agnes were experts, but like her oldest sister, Isobel, Donna couldn’t lie worth a damn and the guilt from trying made her stomach ache.
Which was why she’d arranged a meeting at a café in town, to tell the Women’s Institute the truth.
“You mean he has no idea the ball is happening?” Flora said with a look of pure bewilderment on her face. “None at all? But it’s definitely going ahead?”
Donna put her phone down on the table in front of her and looked at the three women. They were in Campbeltown’s Nice ‘n’ Icy café—because she’d needed the sugar and the café for famous for going heavy on the icing.
“I thought it was best to hold the ball without his knowledge,” she confirmed before tucking into a massive piece of chocolate cake.
“In other words,” Joyce said, “we’re running the thing behind his back.”
“Exactly,” Donna said around a mouthful of icing.
“And you haven’t even asked him?” Flora still looked confused.
“No. I don’t need to. He’ll be out of the house that weekend, so he won’t even know the ball is happening.” Fingers crossed. So far, she hadn’t managed to get him even the slightest bit interested in talking to his old art school.
“I don’t agree with this course of action.” Ann scowled down at her plain scone. It was no wonder she was testy. The woman needed more sugar. “It’s underhanded, deceitful, and dishonest.”
“And brilliant,” Joyce added with a grin. “Everybody wins. We get the ballroom. The guests get an exclusive look inside the mansion. Donna gets to keep her job. And Duncan gets to remain antisocial and oblivious to everyone around him.” She lifted her cup of tea and toasted Donna. “Well done, lassie.”
“No. Don’t toast me,” she said. “I wanted to tell him, I just...”
“Didn’t have the guts?” Ann said.
“Didn’t want to upset him?” Flora said.
“Didn’t think he’d agree, so you went around him?” Joyce said with a cackle that turned into a hacking cough, making her face so red that people reached for their phones to call an ambulance.
She held up a hand. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she said once she could talk again. “Just a wee cough. You know what they say, it isn’t the cough that carries you off, it’s the coffin they carry you off in.” She cackled again.
“Stop it,” Ann snapped.
Joyce sobered. “You’re a killjoy, Ann Dunbar. No wonder you’re still single.”
“I’m single through choice.”
“Or lack thereof,” Joyce mumbled.
Donna had a
horrible feeling she was getting a glimpse of herself and her sisters in the future. It wasn’t pleasant. “Can we get back to the point? If we’re holding this ball without Duncan’s knowledge, then we need to be stealthy about it.”