Grace Under Fire (Buchanan-Renard 14)
“I’m not sure yet. He’ll text and let us know,” he answered. “According to Nick there are police in Dunross now. Hopefully they’ll soon have some suspects.”
“We have time to make two more stops, and I think we should go to a pub. A lot of locals go there to catch up on the latest news and see old friends.”
“How about we don’t make any more stops.” He thought he’d sounded agreeable, which was a real stretch for him, considering the fact that he wanted to lock her in the car until they got to the hotel.
“Oh no,” she said. “You promised to drive me wherever I wanted to go as long as I followed the rules, and I’ve done exactly that, so two more stops, then the pub for dinner, and that will be the last of it.”
“Isabel, we need to get the hell out of here. It’s a miracle no one’s taken a shot at you yet. Luck runs out, babe.”
In the end it didn’t matter what he said. He had given her his word, and she wasn’t going to let him break it. He finally conceded.
“All right, but we aren’t going to spend more than fifteen or twenty minutes at each place.”
“I can’t promise that.”
He felt like growling. “If you aren’t finished in twenty minutes, I’m throwing you over my shoulder and getting out of there.”
From the set of his jaw she knew he’d do it, too.
“I’ll try to keep it under twenty minutes.”
They had just driven into Lockbridge Village. Michael parked in front of a fabric store at the top of a long, narrow street. Pretty shops lined both sides and Isabel couldn’t decide where to stop first. There was Campbell’s Flowers, the Cheese Factory, Cowan’s Bakery, a tearoom, and a gift shop.
“You choose,” she said.
“Anywhere but the gift shop. We’ve done enough of those.”
“Tired of knickknacks?”
“How about the whiskey shop on the corner?” he suggested.
“Let’s go to the flower shop first.”
He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked along.
A bell over the door jingled when they walked inside. Millie and Alasdair Campbell, the owners, greeted them with a smile. The elderly couple’s shop wasn’t much bigger than a galley kitchen. The scents were wonderful. It was like walking into a perfume bottle, and the array of flower colors was beautiful. There were bright yellow lilies in full bloom, pink and purple hyacinths, white and red roses. The heather was her favorite, but purple thistle was a close second.
After Isabel asked a few questions, Millie told her a little something about each flower in between her whispered comments about her ailing father-in-law, while her husband, Alasdair, sat at a table in the corner, sipping tea. He kept a watchful eye on Michael.
After a few minutes, Alasdair motioned to Michael. “You might as well sit and take a cup of tea with me while we wait.”
Michael took him up on his offer. He drank strong hot tea but kept his attention on Isabel while Alasdair sorted through a stack of orders.
Millie had a lot of frustration stored up inside. She went into a long tirade about her ungrateful, downright mean father-in-law, but by the time she finished, she accepted the fact that she was going to have to take care of him because he needed help. “He’s scared because he feels helpless,” she concluded, grabbing Isabel’s hand. “Thank you so much for listening to me go on and on about family,” she said. “Would you like a spot of tea?”
“I’d love some.”
Five minutes later the four of them were crowded around the table with tea and scones in front of them.
“Are you and your mister on holiday?” Millie asked.
“Yes,” Isabel answered.
“We’re thinking of driving farther north and west,” Michael said. “See the countryside.”
“I’d be real careful if I were you,” Millie said.
“Why is that?” Michael asked.