Read Glasgow Grace for Free Online Page B

returned home. Not until Da died.
    That’s how Skye got her name. Her parents couldn’t resist naming her after the place most special to their hearts.
    Skye loved the Isle for different reasons. Childhood summer holidays in Portree, with its colorful two-, three- and four-storied homes and hotels on the waterfront, had provided unforgettable memories. Da insisted on bringing Callum along on some of those holidays—until Mother put her foot down. Eventually Da could no longer argue with her on the Callum McGuire issue. He stopped inviting Callum on their annual trips.
    She and Callum had loved sitting on the pier, gazing across the ocean. They’d stay there for hours, watching the seals play in the bay. Sometimes Da would buy them a bucket of fish and amid shrieks of laughter, they’d throw the fish into the air and feed the slippery black creatures that ducked and dived through the water.
    As she wandered down memory lane, the Phantom of the Opera foremost in her mind, those water creatures with their sharp noses and hollow eyes resembled a dark version of the Phantom’s mask. Of course, as a child, she’d known nothing of phantoms and opera.
    She’d been to Skye only three times in the wintery months. The first when her grandmother died. The second on her grandfather’s passing. The third time, to bury her father, had been the worst. This was the only winter’s journey Callum had taken with them…in a manner of speaking. He’d driven all the way to Portree in his little red Beetle. He could’ve driven with her and Mother, but the late Dr. Lewis Hunter’s widow wouldn’t allow it. So Callum had gone on his own to pay his last respects to her dad.
    I’ll need to hire a car. Callum’s Beetle probably wouldn’t make the two hundred mile trip this time. It was sixteen years older. Earlier she’d panicked they would even make it to the hotel.
    Skye rolled over and reached for her cellphone on the bedside table. She lifted it and fumbled with the keypad. The screen illuminated. One thirty. She needed to sleep. If only her mind would stop running like a hamster on a wheel.
    Sinking back into her pillow, Skye stared up at the dark roof, barely visible. I should get Callum’s cellphone number. Surely he had one? And first thing come morning, she needed to find a mall. She had Christmas gifts to buy. What could she get for Callum? Something that would tell him she was interested? But was he interested? He hadn’t kissed her good night. Had returning the passion earlier in the car merely been a moment of weakness? Nostalgia?
    Maybe she’d just wrap a big red bow around herself.
    ~*~
    Callum touched the M on his cellphone and cradled the phone in his neck as he opened the Beetle’s door. How he wished he had his own car right now. Leather upholstery. Heated seats.
    Don’t think about it.
    “Callum? Are yi awright? Whit uryi callin’ so late fer?”
    “I’m fine, Ma. Did I wake you?”
    “Dinnae be daft, Callum. It’s oanly jist gaun midnight. Ahm oanly noo awa upsterrs tae me bed. Ahv jist loackt the pub. Yir Da turnt in a wee while ago.”
    “Ma, you know how we always have Christmas dinner at my house?”
    “Aye.”
    “I need us to have dinner this year at McGuires.”
    “Whit yi up tae, Callum? This huv somethin’ tae dae wi Skye?”
    “Tavish told you?”
    “Aye.”
    “I’ll explain why tomorrow, Ma. I promise.”
    Mary McGuire sighed.
    “I love you, too, Ma.”
    Callum cut the call and pocketed his phone. He started the Beetle and pulled away from the Crowne Plaza. First stop—the gas station, then straight home to bed. A busy day awaited him. He’d need to get a gift for Skye. How he’d love to buy her something fancy, like a diamond necklace. But for now, he had to keep up the pretense.
    In the morning, he’d see his Ma to discuss the evening’s plans. While there, he’d need to get his car back from Tavish. Just for the morning. Tavish would be sure to hold him to their deal. If he