Page 36 of Highland Stars
“I wanted to give you a small thank you for everything. And I enjoy cooking, so it’s really not a big deal.”
“I don’t need a thank you dinner, but I appreciate it all the same.” Then I do something that I don’t think I’ve ever done. I lift my fork to her, as if toasting, only it’s my fork hovering inthe air over our plates. Makenna, bless her, doesn’t miss a beat.
She raises her fork and taps it against mine with a grin. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I repeat. “I don’t know why I did that.”
Makenna shrugs and spears a bite of scrambled eggs. “I liked it. Let’s do it every time we eat.”
“Deal. Now I should try this scone withnot boilingchocolate gravy.”
Makenna winces playfully, and I smile.
“You should call it a biscuit. So it’s more like the real experience,” she suggests.
“Alright.” I cut into my chocolate-covered scone and load my fork. “Here goes nothing, biscuit and chocolate gravy.”
And it’s surprisingly delicious. “Oh man. I had no idea it would be this good. I mean, there aren't many sweets I’d say I dislike, but this is truly very good. I can’t wait to tell Fiona about it. Her sweet tooth is bigger than mine.”
“I’m so happy you like it! It’s been a while since I’ve had it, so I’m excited.” She takes a bite and smiles as she chews.
“It’s not something you have often?” I ask.
“No. My Gram always made it if I spent the night with her and there were leftover biscuits from the night before. Now Gram’s gone, but Mom and I make it every so often.”
“Carrying on the tradition.”
“Yes. I like to think she’s in heaven having her own biscuitsand chocolate gravy.”
This woman makes me smile more than I’m used to.
“What would heaven be without biscuits and chocolate gravy?”
21
Makenna
MalcolmwasgonewhenI woke up this morning. He’s working a twelve-hour shift, from six in the morning to six at night. So I’ve headed out for the day to walk around the city centre. The scent of the river breeze mixes with roasted coffee as I walk down Church Street. The River Ness is just out of sight.
Inverness city centre is a mix of Victorian stonework and more modern buildings. The sights and smells, paired with the overcast day make me feel cozy in the best way. It’s not that I’m against sunshine, but a cloudy day will always get my vote.
I step into a bistro in search of lunch. I don’t usually just show up at restaurants, but I’m hoping I can order something basic and be okay. The hostess takes me tospeak with the chef, who is, thankfully, extremely helpful. I order salmon with a veggie hash.
Mai would be particularly proud of the veggie hash. I ate almost half of it.
I resume my walk after lunch and almost miss a local art gallery. A painting draws my attention just as I step past the window. It’s a beautiful Highland landscape featuring mountains, a river, and patches of purple heather. I may not be in the market for art, but that won’t stop me from looking.
Among the many paintings and pieces of pottery, I find a display of hand-woven tartan scarves made from local sheep’s wool. If I had to choose one souvenir from this trip, it would be one of these scarves.
When I look closer at the tags, I find that each is marked with the clan to which the tartan belongs.
I wonder if there’s one for Clan Robertson.
I search and find a beautiful dark red, forest green, and navy scarf labeled: Clan Robertson. Would it be weird if I get this one? Surely he’d think it was fun. Yes. I’ve decided that buying my super handsome Scottish host’s tartan is fun, not weird.
I make my purchase and spend the rest of the afternoon walking around the city, ending at a flower stand and buying a bright and cheerful bouquet. I hope Malcolm likes flowers, or at the very least isn’t allergic.
“So you’re living with this guy, and you’re cooking him dinner for the second time? You know you’re not his servant, right?” Mai's voice is filled with a combination of concern and outrage. As if Malcolm is holding me against my will and forcing me to cook for him.
