Epilogue

Willow

"The builder's coming out today," Ramsay said, as he brought me a to-go cup of coffee in front of the castle. "We'll see what's what and hopefully get things sorted enough to start rebuilding the shop."

"I hope it won't take long," I said, accepting the coffee and tucking Calvin under my arm as we made our way to Ramsay's truck.

Calvin pretty much came most places with us these days, aside from the pub, and surprisingly most people didn't seem to mind when we brought him along. Agnes particularly encouraged him joining her at the bookstore, and I often dropped him there for hours at a time. Agnes told me that cats and bookstores went hand in hand, and we'd even moved a small cat tree in there for him to lounge by the window on the mornings where he felt like schmoozing with Agnes. I figured once we'd rebuilt the kilt shop, he'd make his way back over to us, but since Calvin very much knew his own mind, I let him tell me what he wanted to do each day.

He was our little hero, after all.

I was beginning to suspect that he was becoming Loren Brae's cat, and he'd end up having a daily rotation of spots that he would grace with his presence.

Today he'd informed me he wanted to go to the bookstore, so I was planning to drop him there after the meeting with the builder. We'd more or less cleaned everything salvageable from the shop and had tarped the floors and exposed masonry against the elements. Surprisingly, two of the larger machines would be working with the replacement of a few parts.

A woman stood in front of the shop when we drove up, standing next to a pickup truck. Short, with a thick red braid down her back, and a canvas coat zipped against the weather, she had a messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She looked like a student, with a smattering of freckles across her face, and bright blue eyes and upturned lips.

"If you're looking for the kilt shop, we're obviously closed." Ramsay exited the car while I put Calvin in the back seat and followed suit.

"Och, I'm not in the market for a kilt at the moment." The woman smiled, her voice surprisingly rich and melodious, and I realized I'd misjudged her age. She had to be closer to my age and gave me a brisk nod before turning back to Ramsay. "Clarke Construction."

"You're the builder?" Ramsay wasn't able to hide the surprise in his voice, and I rolled my eyes as I brushed past him and held out my hand.

"I'm Willow, part-owner of the shop, and this is Ramsay. Excuse his sexism."

"Och, not a problem at all. I'm used to it. I'm Orla Clarke." Orla beamed up at me as we shook hands, and I felt an odd tremor of energy zip up my arm when our palms touched. Her eyes jumped to mine, speculative.

She'd felt that.

Did Miss Orla Clarke carry magick? I narrowed my eyes in thought as Ramsay stepped forward, apologizing.

"My esteemed business partner is correct, lass. That was rude of me, and I shouldn't have expected a man to be meeting us. I apologize on behalf of my gender." Ramsay shook her hand as well, and Orla laughed.

"Trust me when I say I am very much used to it. Can't say it's been easy making my way in the construction business as a woman, but I've got a solid crew that I trust with my life. We'll get you sorted out soon enough and at a fair price."

"Your company comes highly recommended," Ramsay said, putting his hands on his hips as he turned to look over the shop's ruin. Orla mirrored the move, and I grinned, already liking this pint-sized powerhouse.

"I would hope so. We take great pride in our work. Why don't you walk me through what you're thinking, and I'll work up an estimate for you?"

"So here was the line for the front room." Ramsay stepped through the doorway that still stood, and began to walk around. As a stone building, much of the framework was intact, but we'd need to see about the structural integrity of the stones and if masonry work would be needed to ensure their stability. All part of the process. Ramsay had promised me it would be fine, and I trusted that we'd build back something beautiful together. "And then we had a back workroom, a kitchenette, and a downstairs loo. Upstairs was one single room with a bathroom attached. I was thinking that I'd like to extend farther out into the garden here."

"You would?" I came up next to them as Orla measured and made notes, running her hand across the stone and jotting her impressions into her notebook.

"Yes, don't you think? Look, there's quite a bit of room back here. Since we don't use it for parking, we could extend farther back, almost to those trees. That way you could have your own workroom, and we could have an actual walk-in closet upstairs."

"Did you say walk-in closet?" I hissed, grabbing his arm and pretending to faint.

"Och, lass, I've seen your clothes. I know what I'm getting in for."

"Are you asking me to move in with you?" I met his eyes, my heart hammering in my chest. We were taking all these big steps, and currently Ramsay was technically living with me in the castle, but we hadn't had a talk about if that would be official or not.

Orla made a humming note low in her throat and stepped discreetly away. I liked her. She clearly had good instincts when it came to reading people.

"Or if you prefer to live at the castle, that's fine with me as well. But if I could have my way of it, yes, I'd like you to live here with me." Ramsay squinted down at me. "Unless you'd prefer to have your space. Which I understand as well. It's what you want, darling."

"Well, then, yes, I'd like that. But we might need to extend the kitchen a bit then too, don't you think?"

"Orla, what do you think?" Ramsay turned, and Orla picked her way back over to us and held out her pad.

"On a rough sketch, I'd say you could extend the kitchen here, add a breakfast alcove here, and then build out the second workroom in an L shape here." Orla sketched quickly on the pad, showing us her thoughts. "If you carry that upstairs, the workroom space could become the walk-in closet, and the kitchen space could be a luxury bath."

"I like the sound of that," I said, nodding over the drawing.

"And here, you'll still keep some green space and have the trees, so you could fit a darling wee table outside under the trees if you prefer to take your tea outside when the weather's nice." Orla jerked her head back and looked around the space, her eyes narrowing.

I felt a low hum in my gut.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Oh, sorry, nothing. Thought I heard something," Orla lied neatly to me and, for some reason, I decided to press the point.

"Tell me what really just happened."

Orla's blue eyes snapped to mine, and she measured me for a moment. Raising an eyebrow, I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I got the sense something happened that you just lied about. If we're going to work together, I'd like to know I can trust you."

"I have impeccable business standards," Orla said, pressing her lips together as she studied me.

"I don't doubt it. But something just happened there." I was being rude at this point, but something compelled me to push.

Orla sighed and looked up in the air for a moment, before seeming to collect herself.

"Have you had any paranormal activity here?" Orla surprised me by asking and Ramsay scoffed, leaning in.

"You think the shop is haunted?" Ramsay asked.

"I mean it's not that far-fetched, is it?" I gave Ramsay major side-eye. He must have remembered our resident ghost coo because he eased back a bit.

"So you've sensed some activity then?"

"I personally haven't in this particular space," I clarified. "But I have seen ghosts in Loren Brae if that's what you're suggesting."

"You can see them too?" Orla burst out and then closed her eyes, realizing what she'd revealed.

"Yes, we both have. I think Loren Brae has a lot of unusual activity. It's not so uncommon, particularly if you're someone who's sensitive to that. Which it seems you are, am I right?" I asked, gently, not wanting to scare her off, but my mind was whirling.

Agnes had told me about how she'd been working to uncover the next potential members in the Order of Caledonia. Traditionally, the Order was made of people who held various roles that would help run or protect a village. We had the Knight, the kitchen witch, the garden witch, and the weaver. We'd run through some of the other possible scenarios, and a builder or carpenter had been one of them. A house witch, we'd thought. Now, as I stared at Orla, I realized that I might have inadvertently stumbled on our next member.

"Yes, I might have a bit of a proclivity for the paranormal. But I promise it doesn't affect my work. I can help clear some of the energy of a space is all."

"A useful talent in your line of work, I'm sure," Ramsay said smoothly, while I calculated how weird it would be to pounce on Orla and parade her to Agnes.

"Do you live in Loren Brae?" I asked.

"Grew up the next village over," Orla said, relaxing as we shifted the conversation. "Been here or around these parts most of my life."

"Well, well, well, isn't that interesting?" I beamed at Ramsay who was looking at me like I'd lost my mind, and Calvin began to wail from the car. "I'm just going to take Calvin over to Bonnie Books while you two finish up. Orla, lovely to meet you. I look forward to working with you."

"Same to you. We'll shine the shop up in no time," Orla promised.

"Don't you want to see her estimate first, lass?" Ramsay asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Nah, I've seen your books. You can afford it."

Ramsay chuckled as I walked back to the car and scooped Calvin up, my heart hammering as I walked toward Bonnie Books.

Maybe, just maybe, we'd be able to banish these dangerous Kelpies sooner than everyone hoped.