Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

‘I don’t know. A lot, I guess?’ Alistair shrugged. ‘We’ve done the basics, the wifi and the roof, and that was far more than your father wanted to pay. But the kind of clients we want to attract would be executives. Investing in an upgrade would help a lot.’

Lachlan nodded, his hand still hovering on the keypad. Talking about business made him feel steadier, as though he was on firmer ground. ‘I’ll need to get my finance guys to run the figures. Do you have any estimates of the type of income we could attract?’

‘At the moment we run a few hunting weekends a year,’ he said. ‘But some of the other estates are fully booked, and host weddings as well. I don’t know how much you know about the MacLeish diaspora, but we have a lot of clansmen all over the world who’d jump at the chance to learn about their heritage, surrounded by luxury.’

‘The diaspora?’ Lachlan questioned.

‘Scottish people who emigrated abroad. Did you know there are more MacLeishes in Canada and America than there are here in Scotland?’

Lachlan tipped his head to the side. ‘No. I had no idea.’

‘There are also thousands of MacLeishes in Australia, New Zealand, Brazil… Honestly, they’re all over the world. And because they’re in a new world, they want to know about their past, their heritage. That’s where we come in. A lot of them already visit us during the MacLeish Gathering, though the majority stay in the village. I’d like to build on that.’

Lachlan tapped his fingers on the old oak desk. ‘I read about the gathering on the website.’

‘Oh, you’ve seen that?’

‘Yeah, that was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Who runs it? One of us?’

Alistair looked pleased. ‘I do. I set it up and maintain it; it’s pretty easy really, based on a WordPress site. And we have social networks too. I even set up a Twitter page last year.’

‘There’s a lot of information there,’ Lachlan observed. ‘Your knowledge of MacLeish history is impressive.’

The smile on Alistair’s face widened. He leaned forward, resting his leather-patched elbows on the table. ‘I’ve worked on this estate for more than half my life. My wife tells me I’m obsessed.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘But seriously, it was only when I set up the website that I realised how interested people were. After that we started having gatherings every year. People fly in from all the corners of the earth for the weekend. We have a church service, a tour of the estate, and then the highlight of the weekend is the garden party.’ He lowered his voice again, as though somebody was listening. ‘And I mean it as no disrespect to you at all, Mr MacLeish, but the Americans especially really lap it up.’

Lachlan smiled widely. ‘I bet they do.’

Glancing down once again at the figures, Lachlan turned the possibilities over in his mind. The kind of investment Alistair was proposing was huge, and it would take a massive jump in income to compensate for it. If he was looking at it from a pure investor’s eye he’d turn it down.

But this wasn’t just an investment, was it? It was a legacy, given to him by a man he’d hardly known, in a country he’d hardly visited. He had a lot to think about.

Turning his head, he stared out of the small window that overlooked the lodge itself. The flurry of snowflakes that had accompanied their walk up here earlier had stopped, and a shaft of sunlight had broken through the clouds, shining down on the loch behind the building, the surface reflecting the mountains beyond. It was strange how little he could remember of this place – or of the people who worked here, come to that.

Pushing down on his feet, Lachlan stood, his muscles complaining about being confined to the old office chair for too long. His mind wasn’t feeling much better, either. After yesterday’s confrontation with his brother, and today’s interview with the journalist – not to mention Alistair’s single-handed push to save the MacLeish name – he needed to do something to clear it.

‘I think I’ll take a walk,’ he told Alistair. ‘Just up to the loch.’

Alistair looked up. ‘Of course. You should wrap up warm, though. The sun might be trying to come out, but th

ose rays do nothing to warm the air up until summer gets here. That beautiful view can be deceiving.’

Lachlan nodded and grabbed his coat, looping his scarf around his neck. Lifting his hand in a goodbye, he left the gatehouse and found himself walking back along the gravelled driveway, and then taking a left around the east wing of the lodge.

‘You seem to be working hard.’

Lucy looked up to see Alistair standing in the doorway of the library.

‘I just had a few emails to send,’ she told him, stretching out her arms. ‘Have you finished your meeting with Lachlan?’

‘Yes, we’re all done for now.’ Alistair nodded. ‘I’m going to head back to my cottage for the evening. Is there anything else you need?’

‘Where’s Lachlan?’ she asked. ‘Is he around somewhere?’

‘He headed out for a walk,’ Alistair told her. ‘He said something about seeing the loch.’

‘In this weather?’ She glanced at the half-frosted window, overlooking the grounds. The snow had stopped as soon as it started, but the frosty air remained. Even inside there was a chill she couldn’t quite shake off.

‘He wrapped up warm, don’t you worry.’ Alistair gave her a smile. ‘And from what I can tell, fairer weather is on its way, finally. You might miss it, though, which is a shame. Maybe you can come back in the summer.’