Chapter 14
Paislee dropped Grandpa and Brody off at home to set out dinner, while she raced to Rex’s Hardware for kite-making supplies. From there, she headed toward Cashmere Crush with the proper-sized dowels, according to Mrs. Martin’s list. Paislee had pattern paper that would make a sturdy tail. When she passed the police station, Amelia was leaving for the day, her lightweight navy-blue jacket zipped up to her chin.
Paislee made a split-second decision and pulled in next to Amelia’s car in the lot. She rolled down her window, letting in the chilly sea air.
“Amelia! I had a quick question. Were they able tae find Isla’s mum?”
Amelia walked to the Juke’s open window, her hands in her pockets. “Not yet.”
“I just missed talking tae Billy today tae see if he had her number, but I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“You shouldnae get involved,” Amelia said with a guilty look back at the station. “Detective Inspector Zeffer gave us all a lecture today on protecting a citizen’s right tae privacy.” She leaned in. “Between us, I think Norma got tae talking tae the postman and the detective overheard her.”
Paislee bit her lip, not sure what to say. She wanted to know about Isla!
“He’s no Inspector Shinner, that’s for sure. Shinner used tae tell us all the nitty-gritty details of his cases.” Amelia glanced at Paislee and then away. “He said that I’d make a good constable.”
She pulled back. “Inspector Shinner did? I didnae know police work interested you.” Since Amelia was a receptionist at the station, maybe it shouldn’t be such a surprise.
Amelia shrugged shyly and met Paislee’s gaze. “I’m not smart enough tae be a police officer.”
“Says who?” Paislee was all about breaking expectations, even one’s own. Especially one’s own.
“The whole lot back at home. I was the only one tae graduate high school. My brothers went into fishin’ and me parents barely scrape by.”
Paislee could easily imagine being held fast to earth, but her gran had helped her fly. “If ye want,” she said, “I’ll help you study.”
Amelia sucked in a breath. “You would?”
She would make the time, if it meant that Amelia could follow her dream. “Aye—that’s what friends are for.”
Amelia stared down at the pavement, a grin on her face. “I’ll think about it some more—it would be eleven weeks of training. I dunno.” She clapped her hand against the car. “I have tae go. Dungeons and Dragons tonight at the pub.”
It cracked her up that a bunch of gamers gathered in a dark pub with their laptops to play online D&D and drink beer. The drinking beer part she got, but what happened to pool or darts?
She got to Cashmere Crush, collected the paper for the kite tail, and counted out the till. Before she knew it, the time was a quarter past seven and her cell phone rang—Brody.
“Mum—where are ye? Yer food is cold, and Grandpa doesnae know how tae play the fortune cookie game.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes with your supplies. If you have free time, get the rest of your homework done, or you can write out ten times the definition of a lie by omission.”
“Lame.” He hung up.
She flicked her gaze to the ceiling of her shop and said a quick prayer to Gran for patience.
When she reached the house and went inside, Brody was seated at the kitchen table and Grandpa had his arms crossed, glaring at her son. Wallace darted toward her, his black tail wagging.
The other two didn’t say a word, at risk of breaking their standoff.
“What is going on?” She looked at her grandfather.
“Yer son willnae do his homework.”
She shifted to Brody, who said, “He’s no’ in charge of me.”
Paislee exhaled and entered the kitchen all the way, dropping the bag of kite supplies next to Brody’s chair.
“That is true, but your grandfather is an adult and deserves respect.” She faced her grandfather. “Brody is very self-sufficient, and I trust him tae get his work finished.”
The last thing she needed was to be a referee. She gave Wallace’s ears a scratch and saw a dish of food had been saved for her on the counter. “Is that for me?”
“It’s cold,” they said in unison.
Great. She took the clear wrap off of the dish and dug in. Even cold, chicken lo mein was delicious, and when was the last time she’d eaten?
After she finished half the plate, she set it aside. Her grandfather had retreated with his mug of tea to the stool by the counter and Brody wrote something on a math sheet.
“Done,” Brody said, sending visual daggers toward Grandpa.
Grandpa slurped.
“Wonderful—let’s get started on the kite then. Want tae get the box of scissors and glue?”
The tall, narrow cupboard under the stairwell held both crafty stuff and miscellaneous collected odds and ends she was going to get around to sorting one day but never did. Lydia joked that most people had a junk drawer, while Paislee had a whole closet.
Brody ran back with the box, Wallace chasing him in hopes he might drop something fun and tasty.
“In my day, we didnae let children run in the house,” her grandfather intoned.
She didn’t pick up the argument but kept her focus on Brody as they laid out the dowels, glue, paper, plastic bag, and twine.
It was the longest hour of Paislee’s life as Grandpa Angus offered barbed critique on the angle of the diamond shape to the length of the paper tail. Since Paislee had never made a kite before and Grandpa had, she took what bits of advice sounded plausible and ignored the rest.
“We need tae fly it,” Brody said once it was assembled.
In the dim kitchen light, it didn’t look half-bad, until you peered closely at the lumps of glue and uneven twine.
“It has tae dry,” Grandpa instructed.
“It’s nine o’clock—we cannae fly it right now anyway.” Paislee, in between cutting and supervising and refereeing, had also done a load of wash. The twenty-year-old combo washer dryer machine didn’t always get her clothes dry, so she had a rack set up next to the back window to catch the sun. Oh, for modern appliances one day. A separate dryer would be heaven. For now, she dumped the semi-damp socks into a laundry tub to hang before she went to bed. If she was lucky, they’d be wearable by morning.
“If it doesnae fly, I’ll fail. Mrs. Martin said it had to fly.”
“We’ll try after breakfast, Brody. If you’d have told me last week when ye received the assignment, then this wouldnae have happened.”
“Ye’ve got tae stay on top of these things,” her grandfather advised.
She and Brody both whirled toward him.
He smugly drank his tea.
Hands on her hips she said, “Brody, time for bed. Brush your teeth, and I’ll be up in a minute.” She turned to her grandfather. “You and I need tae have a wee chat.”
Brody gathered his things, muttering about how unfair it all was. He stuffed his homework in his backpack, then froze when he saw something inside.
“What?” She imagined a bad grade on a math quiz.
He brought out a manila envelope with her name addressed on it. “Oops.”
Paislee reached out her hand. “What’s this?”
“I dunno. I was supposed tae give it tae you today and I forgot because of the doctor’s appointment.”
Grandpa Angus left his stool and washed out his teacup, setting it upside down in the dish strainer on the counter.
She accepted the envelope with trepidation. They couldn’t kick Brody out of Fordythe because Paislee had mouthed off to the headmaster, could they?
“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “Scoot. I’ll set the alarm early so that we can try tae fly the kite in the back garden. You better pray for wind, me lad.”
Brody scuffed past her to the stairs, where he ran up them as soon as he was by her. “Brody!” she warned out of habit, following him to make sure he didn’t bounce off the narrow walls. “Careful now.”
“Night!” His bedroom door slammed closed. She gritted her teeth. Envelope in hand, she returned to the kitchen to have it out with her grandfather, but the old man had taken the opportunity to duck into Granny’s room.
She couldn’t get used to calling it his room.
That made this difficult arrangement too permanent.
Sinking into her chair at the kitchen table, she opened the envelope.
Rather than a rebuke on her behavior, Headmaster McCall had sent her a leaflet on government services for the elderly with a handwritten note, in superior cursive that put her chicken scratch to shame, apologizing for the misunderstanding. He expressed his condolences for the loss of her associate.
He’d signed it “Hamish McCall.” Well now.
She flipped through the pages and highlighted some of the helpful numbers in yellow marker from the craft box still on the table. Grandpa could make the calls for himself in the morning, instead of coming with her to the shop.
As she cleaned up the mess and then pinned the socks to the wooden air dryer, all Paislee could think of was how kind an action that had been, to send a sincere apology.
Had she thought him arrogant?
She hoped that she’d been wrong about him, just as he had been about her.