The Poe Baxter Books Series Box Set - volume 1

Chapter 2-3

“Oh, definitely. I’ll plan on it,” she said. Then she turned and walked back toward her uncle’s house.

“Well, that was a good bit of information to gain on the sidewalk,” I said.

“The pavement, Poe. They call it the pavement here,” Beattie said as she slipped her arm through mine.

I rolled my eyes and let her lead me back to our car.

Despite my eagerness to meet with Mr. MacDonald right away, Beattie insisted we slow down, strategize our plan for the week, and have a pint. “Let’s enjoy the town a bit and get our bearings.”

I sighed. She was right, but I was never one to plan. I liked to charge ahead and live with the consequences, good or bad. That life philosophy had gotten me into trouble more than once, and more often than not, that trouble had meant Beattie needed to rescue me. Her desire to slow down would save me some pain and her a whole heck of a lot of trouble.

We checked into our new B&B for the night, and once again, the bed began calling to me as soon as I saw it. The loss of an entire night’s worth of sleep weighed heavy, but when Beattie reapplied her lipstick, tossed me a sweater, and dragged me out the door for dinner, I didn’t resist. She was a world traveler and the best foodie I knew. If dinner was in the plans, I wasn’t going to miss out on what Beattie picked.

And I wasn’t disappointed. She had located a quaint restaurant in a refurbished church. They had a great wine selection, and the food was delicious and all locally sourced. Our table was up on a wrought-iron balcony overlooking the River Ness, and by the time I had begun sipping my second glass of wine, I was absolutely enamored with this city.

While something in my gut was saying the meeting with Davis MacDonald wasn’t going to be my favorite hour of the next day, I was glad the need to visit him had required another day in this town. The bridges across the river were lit with golden bulbs, and I could almost imagine the Loch Ness Monster, or her children, swimming upstream just to celebrate in town once in a while.

After finishing up the best crème brûlée I’d ever had, Beattie and I decided to take a walk and enjoy the city. It was one of those places where it seemed like time overlaid itself. At moments, I felt like I was in a medieval town with stone walls and cobbled walkways. The castle, of course, helped solidify that impression.

But sometimes, I also felt like I was in a modern city with all the bright storefronts and crowded side—I mean pavements. The night was chilly, and the more warm pub doors we passed, the more I was longing for a night like the previous one where we could enjoy some stories and maybe a cider or two.

When we circled back toward the center of town, I convinced Beattie to step into a place called MacCallum’s, and we both immediately smiled when we stepped in. The place was filled with live music and laughing people, and when we got two pints and took a table in the corner, I felt myself relax even further. There was just something about a classic pub that we didn’t have in the US—at least, that was what my two nights’ worth of experience was telling me. The coziness. The community. Even the best dive bars in the oldest neighborhoods in American cities just didn’t compare.

The two of us sat for a while, watching the band play. The music was good—sort of folksy with a drummer behind it—and if I hadn’t been so tired, I might have wanted to stay longer. But again, the sleep was catching up with me, and when I looked at Beattie, she gave me a nod. It was time to go.

I stood, a little wobblier on my feet than I had expected, and almost fell over the chair behind me. When I righted myself on the shoulder of the man whose lap I’d almost landed in, I was surprised to see Adaire Anderson looking up at me.

“Oh, hi, Adaire,” I said as I felt my face flush. He looked even more handsome than before in a dark green sweater and khakis.

Beattie stepped up behind me and subtly removed my hand from the man’s shoulder. “How interesting to see you here, Mr. Anderson,” she said as she shook his hand and then nodded to the other man at the table.

“I suppose it does seem odd,” he said as he looked from her to me. “But I am from here in Inverness and come back as often as I can. This is my brother Aaran. Aaran, meet Poe and Beattie.” He gestured to each of us in turn. “We met this weekend to discuss an acquisition for the Library.”

I took Adaire’s offhand way of describing our conversation as a signal to leave Aaran out of the details. But my curiosity was piqued. It seemed far too coincidental that we’d run into Adaire—not only in Inverness but in the very pub we had chosen for our evening’s entertainment. And if he didn’t want to talk about the book in front of his brother . . .

“Aaran is a fisherman, lives out on Skye,” Adaire said as if reading my mind and giving me an explanation in response to my skepticism. “My work bores him to tears, so we make it a point not to talk fish or old papers when we get together before he heads off for the main season.”

“Please sit,” Aaran said in a deep, rich voice. “Let me get you another pint.”

I looked over at Beattie to see what she was thinking about this invitation, but she was already taking the chair nearest Aaran. And the flush in her own cheeks made me think she might have more than just a desire to be civil in mind as a reason to stay.

While Aaran went to the bar, I turned to Adaire and said, “Did I forget you were from Inverness?” I knew right well I hadn’t forgotten. I only knew about five places in Scotland, and if Adaire had told us he was from the next town we were visiting, I would have remembered.

“Oh, no, I don’t think I said anything. Seemed a little selfish to push my love for my home on you when you were coming up for business.” He slid his chair a bit closer in toward the table and, thus, to me, “but I can’t say as I’m sad to have run into you. Or for you to have run into me, rather.”

I blushed and laughed. “It is a nice surprise. So you said you came up because your brother is leaving? Did I understand that right?”

“Aye,” Adaire said just as Aaran came back with the pints and set them on the table. “Aaran fishes for crab, and the last month of the season is coming up.”

Aaran nodded as he swallowed almost half his pint in one gulp. “But no one wants to hear about me and a boat, Ade,” he said.

Beattie leaned way forward and tilted her body toward Aaran. “I do,” she said with a bit more breath in her voice than usual.

I looked over at Adaire, who winked conspiratorially at me. A flush of heat spread from my shoulders up to my scalp, and I winked back. Then, I turned to him and asked him to tell me what we should do with our afternoon in Inverness.

Two hours later, I had a whole plan for museums and galleries that would allow Beattie and me to enjoy what I now thought of as Adaire’s city and region and let us meet up with the two men for dinner on our way back to Edinburgh. As the brothers walked us out, I tried hard to keep both my head and my body level. I was feeling swoony in a lot of ways, and I was determined not to embarrass myself.