Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Rosie

I went from sleeping to awake so smoothly that I barely noticed the transition, instead blinking at the ceiling as my brain scrambled to figure out where I was. It was still dark, or darkish, so I presumed I’d awoken in the night, and I rolled over to stare at the cheerful pillow with two puffins dancing around a heart.

Right. Scotland.

I was in the bookstore in Scotland, and I’d basically gone face first into bed last night after I’d unpacked and showered. At least I’d unpacked. Proud of myself for sticking to my list, I stretched lazily, pleased that I’d woken so early. At least I could get a start on the day and hopefully get a jump on my cleaning. Picking up my phone, my eyes widened .

It was eight in the morning. How ? How was it still dark? Usually, I’d be up with my coffee by now, having gone through my morning routine of lemon water, light stretching, hand weights, face serum application, and finally a cup of coffee as my moment of silence before I had to talk to people all day at the store. Honestly, I didn’t much mind the talking to people all day, it was just that I didn’t like the subject matter. I never really knew how to answer questions about if a ceramic pig pitcher would make a good centerpiece or not. Taste was subjective, wasn’t it? Who was I to tell someone if it would look good on their table or not? I’d often deferred to just telling people what I thought they wanted to hear, but largely, the conversations at Davidson’s were mind-numbingly boring.

I had high hopes that wouldn’t be the same at a bookstore.

Annoyed that I was already behind schedule, I rushed through my stretching and serum application. I’d need to source a set of hand weights, and I hadn’t had time to go food shopping, so lemon water and coffee were out. I’d been told there was a coffee shop in town, so at the very least, I could pop down there and get breakfast while I got my bearings on where the supermarket was and what I needed.

“Chill, Rosie.” I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I didn’t need to be on a schedule. Yet. It would take time to find a routine here and a few basic things needed to be set up before I did so. Like getting groceries, figuring out transportation, getting internet hooked up—all those kinds of things. I just needed to ease up on my rigidity and it would be fine.

I could be flexible.

It was a mantra Jessica had made me repeat, over and over, while we’d made a list of what I was looking for in a man. Largely because I think she was scared I was going to just settle into another relationship with someone and then refuse to change it because the person had become a part of my routine. Because that was really what had happened with John. Once he’d become a part of my day-to-day, it just was what it was. Even the occasional sex had been bland… mediocre. Did that mean I was mediocre at sex as well? After all, he’d walked out my apartment door without as much as a backward glance. He was part of my life, but it took Jessica to remind me that it wasn’t normal to fit people into your schedule simply because it was what you’d grown used to.

She was right, she was always right, and now here I was in Scotland with a new job and a master list of “requirements for a man” hidden in my purse.

Which was where it was going to stay.

I groaned as I pulled on a fresh pair of jeans, a button-down white shirt, and a Fair Isle sweater vest over it. Braiding my hair back in two French braids on each side of my head, I put on dangly sapphire earrings and strapped my Apple Watch at my wrist. Even getting dressed couldn’t quite pull my mind away from how I’d awkwardly kissed a stranger’s shoulder yesterday. It didn’t matter what requirements he’d met on my list. Because the list was staying in my purse .

I was not to be trusted with picking a match.

That was abundantly clear.

Before John there had been Jeff. A John look-alike, Jessica swore. Before Jeff had been Zach. And before him Tristan. All of whom had seamlessly worked themselves into my life and basically become a background fixture until something, or someone, ahem, Jessica , had pointed out what I was sacrificing for the sake of routine.

I jumped as a book fell off the bedside table and hit the floor with a loud bang.

“Damn it, that has got to stop happening.” Picking up the Celtic heart book, I brought it with me to the shop. I’d add it to the pile to reshelve, but for now I placed it on the table that Moira had used as her check-out counter. Pausing, I took in the shop. In the soft light that filtered through the windows, the space felt welcoming and cozy, and I couldn’t wait to open it to the world. It was such a different feeling than working at the discount store, where I’d hated opening hours. Here? In this beautiful shop full of beautiful stories? Yes, I wanted to share the space with actual humans. This was a place to be proud of, even if it needed some elbow grease before it was set to rights.

Walking around the back of the mahogany table, I pulled out the red leather chair and sat, testing how it felt. I needed to learn how to work the vintage cash register and see if there was a credit card machine to be found anywhere. Surely, there were bank accounts to be opened and ledgers to be read, but since I was giving myself permission to go off schedule, I decided to just take a deep breath and gloat a bit.

Well, maybe gloating wasn’t the right word. More like, enjoy? Just enjoy this cool space that I’d been lucky enough to inherit.

A bang sounded and I jumped, slamming my hand against my chest.

“Yoo-hoo!”

Holy hell, was that someone knocking at the door? Jeez, I was jumpy. Taking a deep breath, I pasted a polite smile on my face as I unlocked and cracked open the door.

“Sorry, we’re not open yet. I just arrived last night.”

“Oh, we know it, honey.” A trio of women pushed past me, and I automatically stepped back, still traumatized from the water bottle incident, and gaped at them as they hauled full tote bags to the table.

“Ladies,” I began, needing them to leave so I could get back to my already revised schedule.

“We know you’re not open. But we’ve got Book Club starting here on Thursday, so you’ll need to get the shop back in order. We’ve brought groceries, cleaning supplies, and our charming personalities.” The three elderly women beamed at me as I blinked at them in confusion.

“I’m sorry…did the solicitor hire a cleaning service of sorts?”

The women hung up their coats one by one on a coat rack I hadn’t even noticed and only then did I see their shirts.

I have puffin to declare except my genius . My lips quirked up at the words on one woman’s shirt with a puffin wearing glasses and reading a book.

The next woman’s shirt read Much Ado about Puffin .

The third said Puffin Compares to You and had two puffins, beak to beak, with a heart.

Was this a deranged birding club? Why were they all wearing puffin shirts? Didn’t they say book club? Were they hoping we had books about puffins?

“I’m the only one that has professionally cleaned in my life, but these two can hack it. I’m Esther.” Genius Puffin shirt grinned at me. “This is Shannon and Meredith.”

“Cherise was too hungover to come by this morning, though she claims it’s cramps.”

Esther snorted. “It’s been a good twenty years since she’s had cramps.”

“Umm.” What did one say to that? I gestured at their shirts. “Puffin fans, are you?”

“One of the locals rescued one yesterday so we’re showing our support for wee Tattie as he gets back on his feet. Or on his wing, I suppose?” Esther scrunched up her nose as she thought about it.

“Tattie?” My eyebrows winged up.

“A perfect name for a puffin,” Meredith assured me.

“What’s a tattie?”

The three women gasped like I’d just threatened to slit their throats if they didn’t leave the store. Granted, I might have been thinking something along the lines, though a touch less gruesome to be sure, but I’d never outright say such thoughts.

“Neeps and tatties?” Shannon gaped at me.

“I don’t know what you’re saying to me.”

“Such a shame.” Esther clucked her tongue at me as she began to unpack the grocery sack. “Neep means turnip, and tattie is what we call potatoes here. You really don’t know much about Scotland, do you?”

“Unfortunately, no. I wasn’t given much notice about my inheritance, so, yeah, my research on Scotland has been a bit rushed.” Did bingeing Outlander count as research? “Though I do hope to see some men in kilts.”

The women turned on me as one, excitement in their eyes.

“You’re single then?” Shannon rubbed her hands together, reminding me a bit of the Grinch plotting to take down Christmas. Speaking of…I’d need to start getting holiday decorations sorted since it was almost December.

“Ladies.” I raised my hands in the air to try and stop any more personal questions. “You haven’t even asked me my name yet. Let’s start there before we jump into my personal life. Also, I’m already behind on schedule soooo…” I made a big show of checking my watch.

“Well, what’s your name then?” Esther demanded.

“Rose…er, I mean, Rosie. My name is Rosie.” Excitement filled me. Finally, I could introduce myself how I wanted to be called. “Rosie Withers. Moira was my great-aunt once removed I believe on my mother’s side.”

“Welcome to Kingsbarns, Rosie. We’re the Book Bitches and we’re going to help you get Highland Hearts up and running again. ”

“You are?” My mouth dropped open at Esther’s proclamation. Since when did these women have any say in my business? And did they really just call themselves bitches? “Do you work here?”

“Goodness, no.” Meredith laughed, waving a hand in the air as she took out a pile of neatly folded rags. “It’s just what we do. We got The Royal Unicorn up and running again too.”

“The Royal Unicorn?” Was this another thing like the neeps and tatties I was supposed to know?

“The local pub. In fact, you might want to meet Harper, the woman who brought it back to life. She’s American. Came over here to have a Scottish pub experience and fell in love with the owner.” Esther’s eyes gleamed as she looked me up and down. “You didn’t mention if you were single or not?”

Right, this was getting to be a bit much. I needed a moment to get my thoughts sorted about their intrusion. Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t quite bring myself to kick the women out into the cold. They knew this town and they’d known Moira. Maybe they could be of some help.

“Listen, I’ll be totally honest with you. This is my first morning, I’m a little overwhelmed, and I’m still trying to figure out where to start on opening the shop, let alone talking about my love life. I have a list of things I need to do and I’d feel much more comfortable if I could just get on with it.”

“List?” Shannon rocked on her heels in excitement. “I love a good list.”

I paused. Ah, maybe I’d found my people .

“If you really do want to help, I won’t say no. But I can’t promise to pay you as I don’t even know the finances yet of the shop.”

“No payment needed.” Esther waved that away. “We’re retired and we miss having the bookshop open. Give us this list and let’s see how we can help.”

“Well, first thing was food, to be honest.” My stomach grumbled and Meredith beamed, taking the sack of groceries.

“I’ll get brekkie sorted. Tea or coffee, Rosie?”

“Um, coffee, please.” My eyebrows rose once again as Meredith breezed away into my personal flat, and I heard cupboards opening in the small kitchen in the back. This was weird, wasn’t it? Random women in my shop and new home? Making me breakfast?

“After we’ve had a cuppa, you can tell us about your love life. Highland Hearts was known to be quite the romantic spot.” Shannon picked up a dust rag and disappeared behind a bookshelf.

“Was it? What was with the name?” If they were going to cook and clean for me, I might as well get some information from them. Rounding the table, I sat in the leather chair and pulled the ledgers closer to me. I couldn’t open until I knew what the finances were, as well as where the bank accounts were held.

“I think it was because she loved romance novels. There’s more shelves of romance books here than any other genre, and Moira didn’t care. She hosted all sorts of parties here, even speed dating sometimes, and she just loved love. I think it’s a lovely name. Will you change it? ”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about changing the name.” I paused and looked up at Esther and noted the concern on her face. “I think I have enough on my plate without a rebrand, don’t you? Plus, I read romance. I mean, more fantasy romance with magic and whatnot, but I can’t argue with her love for the genre. I think Highland Hearts is super cute for a bookstore name.”

“She reads smut!” Meredith crowed as she came in with a tray of cups and pastries.

“You’ll do just fine here,” Esther promised me.

“I hope so.” For some reason, their approval warmed me, and I realized just how much I wanted this to work out. I couldn’t go home, not to the discount store, and not to the life I’d been living. Well, treading water at best. No, Highland Hearts was my new home, and I was determined to make a success of it.

“Now … about your love life.”

I grinned and shook my head, pointing at the cup of coffee Meredith put in front of me.

“Coffee first, ladies. I need to figure out these accounts long before I figure out my love life. Or lack thereof.”

“Hear that, ladies? She’s single!” Crows of delight met Esther’s words and I sighed, pinching my nose. Between these ladies and Jessica, I’d be married before the end of the week.

“No dating. No men. No love life. Just work.”

“Boring,” Shannon called from where she dusted the disco unicorn.

“For now,” I amended. “Let me get my bearings, okay?”

“That’s fair. Och, let’s talk Christmas. What are the plans?” Esther asked.

“I have a list.” I pointed to the list, refusing to be distracted by Christmas. “Follow the list and we can get to Christmas decorations. I promise. I can’t open if I don’t have any money. That has to come first.”

“But the Winter Windows competition starts soon.”

At that I looked up, squinting at where Shannon teetered on a step stool. “The what now?”

“The Winter Windows competition. All the bookshops in this part of Scotland decorate their windows for Christmas and the winner gets money for a charity of their choice.”

“And St. Andrews has won the last two years.” Esther clucked her tongue.

“Posh bastards.” Meredith flounced back to the kitchen, and I raised an eyebrow. St. Andrews was for the posh, got it.

“List first. Party second. Then we’ll make a decorating plan.”

“Party? Wait … what party?”

“You have to throw an open house, don’t you?”

“But why? Everyone’s been in here, I’m sure.”

“To meet you. Plus, we like a party, don’t we, ladies?” Esther nodded at me as the women chimed in.

“Right. Okay. Party. I’ll make a note of it.” I pinched my nose as the women grabbed the list and disappeared to the other side of the shop, muttering to themselves while I gripped the side of the table and took a few steadying breaths. I was the one in charge here. And I just needed to sort a few things out, and apparently, delegate better to my unasked-for volunteers.

My eyes caught on the Celtic heart book and, despite my need to dig into the ledgers, I reached out and traced my finger over the etching on the cover.

A shiver of…something…zipped up my arm. It was stronger than static electricity, but not as strong as being electrocuted. Chalking it up to nerves and excitement, I bent my head to the ledgers, letting the women’s chatter fall into the background behind me.

Highland Hearts . My new home. It felt…right. Like maybe I’d finally found the path that I was looking for. I might even have time to keep writing that fantasy novel I’d given up on two years ago. I was in charge of my time now, and nobody else, and that alone was worth celebrating. Looks like I’d be planning a party for sure now.