style="font-size:15px;"> Frustrated by his inability to shut the Yank from his thoughts, he vented his ire a bit too heavily and snapped the corroded section clean in two, sending a spatter of rusty gunk spraying across his face and neck, and a stream of foul language spewing from his mouth.
“My, my. Have a bar of soap handy? Looks like your face and mouth could both use a good swipe.”
Dylan squeezed his eyes shut and worked mightily to keep his tongue under control as well. Through clenched teeth, he said, “Hallo, Mrs. Dalrymple. I didnae hear you come in. My apologies. These pipes are proving a wee bit of a test.”
“So, I see. I rang, but with all the clanging and swearing going on, ’tisn’t a wonder you didn’t hear me. I didnae want to drag ye away from your work, so I thought I’d let myself in.”
I just bet you did , he thought unkindly, not particularly sorry for the sour sentiment. Letitia Dalrymple ran the bakery in the village with her daughter, Sally. Letitia and her good friend, Doris, who, along with her husband ran the butcher shop just off the square, were two of the busiest bodies in Glenbuie. They’d formed a knitting club some time ago with several other women of their generation—more of a gossip club if you asked him—and no one in Glenbuie had had a moment’s peace since. He’d only had to deal with it for the past two years, and that with the added buffer of living way out here. Through a miracle of patience, Brodie and Reese handled the lot of them without much concern and he’d as soon leave them to it.
But with all three of his brothers either newly married or about to become so, Letty and her cackling horde had set their sights on him. The puir widower Chisholm. Naturally Reese, Brodie, and Tristan found this highly amusing and did their best to assist the women in their endeavors whenever possible.
Letty scooped a rag from his tool chest and dangled it over his head. He forced a tight smile as he took it and wiped it over his face and neck. “Thank you.” He shoved himself out from under the sink. At this point he’d have to tear the whole damn thing out, which he’d been afraid of, the cost of which he’d been hoping to avert with a few replacement parts. Why he’d thought anything he might do around here would actually save a few pounds, rather than cost him a whole pocketful more of them, he had no idea. It never seemed to work that way. Now he was out valuable time as well as money.
He rolled to his feet and wiped his hands off on his pants. “What brings you out this way?” Other than just having to stick your nose into everybody else’s business, namely mine .
Standing as she was in the hall, she cast her gaze through the open door opposite the loo and took a look about. There were two large dormer-style rooms up here on the third floor of the central section of the house. One dormer was ready for guests, but naturally the room Letty was examining still needed some finishing work. He hadn’t been planning on getting that one completed in time for the opening, but had to get the WC functioning as he had a party of four booked into the finished dormer.
“It’s quite the mission you’ve undertaken here, Dylan.”
“Aye, that it is.”
“More than a man alone could hope to complete, but I see you’ve put yourself fully to the task.” She shifted her gaze back to him, and that dreaded look of affectionate concern clouded her expression. If there was one thing he hated more than the villagers poking their nose into his business, it was their collective concern over his bachelor status. Her bottom lip pursed as she tilted her head slightly and said, “I would imagine all the hard physical labor you’ve put into this place since your return has been somewhat therapeutic for you.”
Here we go. “I suppose it has been,” he responded honestly, knowing his return home had been both therapeutic and cathartic for him. Just not for the exact reasons Mrs. Dalrymple assumed. “Is there anything specific I can do for ye?” he asked, striving to sound patient. He gestured to the broken pipe. “As you can see, I have my hands full, and with less than a fortnight until my first guests arrive, I—”
“What did you think of that nice Erin MacGregor? Wasn’t she a breath of fresh air?”
Dylan swallowed a groan, and perhaps a few more swear words as well. It was a vain wish indeed that the villagers would leave him alone. “She seemed very pleasant, but I—”
“Pleasant? Why she seemed a wee bit more than simply pleasant, wouldn’t you agree?” She gestured to his face. “Ye’ve a bit of something still on your cheek there.”
Sighing, Dylan shifted to look in the mirror, ignoring the rather frightful sight of himself as he dutifully cleaned off the rest of the splattered gunk. But it was hard to ignore the weary fatigue etched on his face. It was no wonder his sudden appearance had startled Ms. MacGregor so badly. Och, but he needed to rid himself of her image, and of the busybody, Letitia Dalrymple, and get back to the task at hand. “I appreciate you stopping by,” he said, turning toward the stairs, hoping she’d take the not-so-subtle hint.
“Why didnae ye take her up on her offer? A man out here alone, under such an immense burden, and here she was, bright and lovely as a spring day, offering you a solution to your woes.”
Dylan’s gaze narrowed, but he refrained from asking her just exactly what woes she was referring to. “I appreciate your concern, but the bed and breakfast will open as projected and we’ll do just fine without her offer.”
Letty was not so easily swayed. “She was such a bright young thing, don’t you think? With all the younger generation heading off to Edinburgh or Inverness, it was refreshing to have a lovely new face in town.”
Dylan tried not to grind his teeth as he forced a smile. “Be that as it may, as you can see, I’m quite busy with the demands here. I’ve no time to have my head turned.”
“Darling lad, every man has the time for that. You can’t lock yourself up in this monstrosity forever.” Letty placed a hand on his arm. “I know how difficult it must be, starting over. Why I was just telling Doris the other day how hard it must have been for you to come back here and start over all alone, having had such an exciting and fulfilling life end with such tragedy.” She patted his sleeve. “But move on we must. You canno’ pour all your heart into this place, Dylan. She’s a demanding mistress, aye, but she canno’ keep ye warm on the long winter nights. Dinnae close yourself off so. We’re all here to help, ye ken. We’ve only your best interests at heart.”
Dylan briefly covered her hand on his arm, then gently freed himself from her grasp, trying to remind himself that she really did mean well. He just didn’t understand why it was that everyone assumed he needed a woman in his life in order to be happy once again. Not that he minded the concept. Someday. But when the time came, he’d like to think he could handle that particular endeavor on his own. Not as some kind of pathetic village project.
“I appreciate the care and concern, I do, but rest assured that I’m quite content dealing with my concerns here.” He gently ushered her towards the stairs. “Thank you for stopping by,” he went on, following her down the stairs. “Please give my best to Doris and the rest.”
Not one to be steamrolled, Letty halted their progress in the grand foyer. “Perhaps you should come into town. As a businessman now, not to mention our chief, it wouldnae hurt you any to be seen more about the village.”
It was a gentle rebuke, but one he took to heart. Because she was right. He should be a more visible leader, even if the position of clan chief was largely figurative at this point. From a business standpoint alone, it behooved him to be on friendly terms with the villagers. His guests would be spending time
