THIRTY-EIGHT
It was time to go home. Isabel had mixed feelings about leaving the Highlands. It was such a beautiful land, and the people who lived there were kind and gracious—except for the few who tried to kill her, of course, but they were the exception.
She and Michael met with Donal Gladstone one last time to go over details of the transfer of Glen MacKenna. He had hired a new groundskeeper and told Isabel he knew the man, that he was honest and hardworking and would do a good job. Isabel agreed to stay in contact with Gladstone by email and phone, and told him, if any problems developed, she was confident he could handle them.
After the meeting they drove to Inverness, returned the car to the rental agency, and headed to the airport. Once again Noah came through for them and arranged for two seats in first class.
A teenage girl waiting to check in recognized Isabel and asked for an autograph and a photo. Isabel was happy to accommodate her and was pleased because the girl didn’t make a big deal about it and didn’t scream.
As she and Michael were walking toward their gate, she said, “I told you my so-called fame would be fleeting and that it would all calm down.” Grinning, she added, “And I was right. Only one person asked for my photo. In another week I’ll be all but forgotten.”
Michael had stopped and was looking over her head. “Uh-huh,” he drawled.
“I did say it would go away. Don’t you remember?”
“I remember,” he said with a hint of a smile.
“What are you looking at?” She turned around, gasped, and took a hasty step back. In front of her was a small kiosk filled with bottled water, juice, and soft drinks. There was also a rack filled with a popular weekly rag magazine, and there Isabel was, smack-dab on the cover. Xavier was by her side. He had his arm around her waist and the two of them were staring into the camera. The photo must have been taken at the concert.
“Oh no, no, no,” she whispered. She wanted to run to the gate, but Michael took her hand and kept walking. With her head down, she reached their gate just as the first-class passengers were welcomed aboard. “Okay,” she exhaled. “Now I’m calm again.”
Michael put his arm around her shoulders and gave a reassuring pat. Her face looked as though it were on fire. “Sure you are,” he agreed.
•••
Michael didn’t want any surprises when they reached Boston. He knew that Nick and Noah were back home in Boston to attend a seminar and would be happy for a break. He texted both of them and asked for help when he and Isabel got off the plane. He was concerned there might be a crowd waiting for her.
Thanks to Nick and Noah and their connections, Isabel and Michael were ushered through the terminal to a private door and got out of the airport without much fuss at all.
Isabel had planned to spend the night at the Hamilton Hotel—she had made the reservation from Dunross—but all three men insisted she stay on Nathan’s Bay. No one could get to her there.
Isabel was quiet on the drive. How was she going to get back to Silver Springs? Flying commercial was out of the question, for now anyway.
Michael noticed her worried expression and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“I’m trying to figure out how I can get home. I shouldn’t fly to Silver Springs tomorrow.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” he agreed.
“I’ll cancel the reservation. I suppose I could rent a car and drive...”
All three men shouted, “No!” at the same time. Neither Nick nor Noah had driven with Isabel, but they had both heard enough hair-raising stories to know she shouldn’t drive anywhere.
Nick was diplomatic. “It’s not safe when you’re exhausted. You just came back from a long stressful trip.”
Noah nodded. “He’s right. Driving such a long distance would wipe you out. Take it easy for a couple of days.”
“And then what? I’m not ninety. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine.”
Michael was blunt. “You’re a terrible driver, Isabel.” He took hold of her hand and squeezed, letting her know he didn’t want an argument.
“But I...”
“Terrible,” he repeated forcefully.
She was beginning to think he might be right, but she would go to her grave before she admitted it to him. There had been signs, she supposed. Passengers tended to scream when she was driving. Even calm, in-control Michael had done a fair amount of shouting while she was driving him to Nathan’s Bay.
Maybe she needed glasses. She thought about that possibility for a couple of minutes and decided she just might. She couldn’t remember the last time she had an eye exam. She did pass the driving test. Still, she decided that, when she got back to Silver Springs, she would make an appointment.