I wrapped the scarf around my head and was glad for the boots my new husband had recently gifted me when we heard that snow was on the way.
“Didn’t you have snow in Kansas?”
“Of course we did. Lots of it. I just didn’t think there was as much in Scotland, so I didn’t bring my boots.”
“You need boots.”
Too anxious to sit still, I left the bookshop early and decided to first stop by Tom’s pub, “The Smallest Pub in Scotland.” Well, it was mine too now. We’d gone through all the legal things you were supposed to go through to ensure that it became mine and mine alone if something happened to Tom. He’d insisted, and I hadn’t argued. I wasn’t made for running a pub, and I really hoped Tom and I would never have to face a tragedy that would bring such a thing to fruition, but I understood the need to be prepared.
“Delaney, hello,” Rodger said from behind the bar as I stepped inside. It wasn’t busy—probably because of the snow and the fact that there wasn’t any soccer (football) showing on the television secured to the ceiling in the front corner. There was only one customer in the place, and after he sent me a friendly smile, he turned his attention out the front window. I smiled back, but as I made my way to the bar, I wondered if I should have stopped to say hello. He didn’t seem familiar, but there was something about the smile that made me wonder if I’d forgotten meeting him. Maybe I’d remember by the time I left.
“Hello, Rodger,” I said.
“How are you today, Mrs. Shannon?” Rodger said with a nod.
I wasn’t legally Mrs. Shannon. I’d kept my name, but I’d still answer to Tom’s.
“Great. How are you?”
“Right as rain,” Rodger said. “Tom’s in the back, filling the mop bucket. He’ll be out soon.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I get you something?”
“No thanks.” I sidled up to a barstool just as Tom rolled the mop and bucket out from the back. He made even a mop and a bucket look good.
“Ah, my lovely wife,” he said, though more reserved than usual, when he saw me. He directed the bucket on wheels my way and kissed me quickly. “What are you up to?”
“I’m off to be unfaithful, I’m afraid.”
“Aye? That was quick. We’ve not been married even six months yet.”
“I’m visiting another pub.”
“I can live with that. Which one?”
I told Tom and Rodger about the messenger and showed them the note. The customer couldn’t help but hear some of the conversation, but I noticed he tried hard not to look like he was eavesdropping. I noticed something else too: Tom glanced at the man with scrutiny, not curiosity. I took it as a cue to keep my voice low, but still, the pub was pretty small.
“Deacon Brodie’s is a lovely pub,” Rodger said. “Not as wonderful as this one, of course, but it’s fun, particularly with the story attached to it.”
“Aye, leave it to the Scots to honor a bad man because his story was intriguing.” The customer rose from his chair.
I was so surprised by his interjection that I started slightly. He walked directly toward me, smiled, and extended his hand. “Name’s Findlay Sweet. I’m a long-ago friend of your husband’s. It’s a pleasure to meet the lass who tamed him.”
We shook, and I inspected him. He was much older than Tom, but probably not as old as Tom’s father, Artair. Findlay’s hair was dark steely gray; his eyes matched in color and were pleasantly framed by thick laugh lines. Three deep creases also rode across his forehead. His face held a serious expression, even when he smiled.
“You know each other?” I looked back and forth between them.
“We’re buddies from our fishing days,” Findlay said.
I looked at Tom. I didn’t know he’d had fishing days.
Tom lifted an eyebrow and didn’t smile. “Aye, for a while Findlay and I fished on a boat together. I worked for Mr. Sweet but didn’t take to the life as much as he might have hoped.”
“Aye.” Findlay nodded slowly. “I did have hope.” He cleared his throat and looked at me. “I’ve moved on from the lifestyle too. I’m a driver now.”
“Oh. A good friend of mine drives a taxi.”
“I’m not that kind of a driver.” Findlay paused and seemed to look at Tom with something unfriendly in his eyes.
I was so perplexed I might have said aloud, Huh? I cleared my throat just in case.
“Always good to see you, Sweet,” Tom said. But he didn’t mean it. It was rare that he said something he didn’t mean, but this time it was clearly his way of asking the man to leave.
A long, uncomfortable moment passed before Findlay nodded again and smiled only at me. “You are lovely. I wish you both the best, but you need to keep your eyes on this one. He can be shifty.”
“Excuse me?” I said.
“Delaney.” Tom put his hand on my arm. “It’s okay.”
“Is it?” Findlay said. “Time will tell, I suppose.” He turned and walked out of the pub.
“What in the world was that?” I asked.
“Aye, boss, what was that?” Rodger echoed. “That man’s been staring out the window nursing one wee drink for a couple hours. When you two spoke earlier, I didn’t pick up on anything like … whatever that was.”
“He wanted to make sure my new wife was aware I might not have been her best choice.” Tom shrugged. “I wonder if he was just waiting for her to come in.”
“That was a risk,” I said. “How would he know I’d be in? What happened between the two of you? Did you steal his girlfriend or wife or something?”
Tom shook his head. “A story for another time. You’ve got to be on your way. Do you want to take my car?”
“No, I have boots, and it’s not far,” I stuck out one red-boot-clad foot and smiled. Deacon Brodie’s pub wasn’t far at all. It was kind of a shame I hadn’t visited it—and all the other nearby pubs. I’d been to a couple in Edinburgh, but I’d neglected so many others. I would always choose Tom’s over trying anything new. “I can walk there just fine.”
“Those are lovely boots,” Tom said.
Rodger whistled. “Nice.”
We were all trying much too hard to move past the uncomfortable atmosphere Findlay Sweet had left behind. I hopped off the chair and kissed Tom. Rodger whistled again. As I made my way to the door, I glanced back. Tom was mopping the floor, not looking up, but Rodger was. He sent me a comforting smile and a wink. I wondered if he’d get the story from Tom, and I wondered if either of them would share it with me.