Chapter 2

Turning to see the small red post van approaching, she pasted on her friendly smile. Although he came daily, they had never met as he usually posted letters through the slot while she was still inside cleaning and fixing up her new abode. Today she had been up and outside early to get some much-needed sun; it was about time she met her mailman.

As soon as the van pulled near, it parked by her rickety gate, and she was faced with a little, old, red-cheeked man with receding white hair and a smart royal mail uniform in navy blue. As he rounded his van with a handful of letters, he smiled her way with a devilish twinkle on his cheerful face.

“Hello, my dear. How are you? So nice to see what you look like at last.” He almost gushed at her when she straightened and tried to smooth down her dishevelled, grubby clothes. Rose extended her hand to meet his outstretched palm as he pushed mail under his armpit to shake it.

“Hi there, I’m fine, thanks. Yes, all moved in and settling well. Now I have the place cleaned up a bit more.” Rose beamed at the friendly face. She had walked halfway down the path to meet the small man, who was now retrieving her post and taking the letters he was holding to her, and she noted he had another in his right hand that he seemed to be holding back.

“Well, my dear, there’s been a lot of talk, you know… At the church! All about our new inhabitant and the lack of your presence in town; it will be nice to tell them all it’s a very pretty young lady.” He continued smiling her way.

“Be away with you now…” She giggled at his obvious charm. “Young maybe, not sure about the very pretty!” She gushed and decided she liked this man. There was something familiar about him in a very genteel way.

“Oh, weesht now, Lassie. Take a compliment! Here, I have something extra for you… Mr Munro has asked me to deliver this here personally.” He held out the long golden envelope in his other hand towards her briskly, extending it to Rose, who took it politely with a smile.

“Thank you.” She took the long, smooth envelope, still frowning and still confused, the look all over her face.

“It’s an invitation to the annual charity dance.” he said as if in answer to her look. “It’s time they all met our newest community member.” His smile was genuine and bright, and Rose felt herself smiling back.

“Well, thank you, Mr…?” Rose lifted eyebrows towards him to encourage a name at least. If she were going to see him frequently, then a name would be nice.

“Oh, Hen, it’s Tommy. Call me Tommy. I’m the caretaker for the big house and the village postie… Well, the misses and I take care of the repairs, like… And I’m the one who was patching up this place in Miss Olivia’s absence.” He patted the gate frame affectionately.

The mention of her name caused a saddened look on both of their faces, and he bowed his head. Rose couldn’t help but notice the genuine reaction, guessing right that he’d known her aunt well, and it explained the familiarness to her.

“Well, thank you so much! It means a lot to me that you cared for this place… She was my aunt… I used to come here a lot in the summers. Did you know her well?” Rose said gently, curious whether she had previously known this fellow in her childhood, even though her gut told her so.

“Oh, my goodness!!! Miss Rose? Little Miss Rose Turner? You know, I thought you looked a lot like Miss Olivia when you opened the door, and now you say it! Damn, I see it!” He was almost jumping on the spot, pumping her hand enthusiastically again, his little red cheeks overtaking his whole face. “Same exotic beauty she had, and those dark brown eyes!”

“I am, yes. I’m sorry I don’t…” She was trying to get a word in edgeways, pulling her hand free from his hot embrace, but his renewed energetic state had him cutting in over her.

“Of course, you won’t remember me! You were such a wee thing. I never saw much of you, just the odd glimpse in passing. The wife, though, used to bring you her jam tarts because you had a sweet tooth and always gave her such a warm welcome.” As soon as he said it, the memory in Rose’s head was jarred to the forefront. A pleasant round lady who always brought her tissue paper wrapped confectioneries whenever she had been here for a holiday.

“Oh yes, I do remember her. And those tarts! Of course, I remember her!… Alice was her name, I’m sure, right?… It’s such a small world, isn’t it?” Rose could see his smile widening to a grin, obvious devotion to his wife and confirming her memory was accurate.

“Yes! It’s Alice, and it really is. I can’t tell you how made up I am that Olivia’s niece is our new member. We were all worried that some American had moved in as there’s been talk, you know? Of a Yank around here.” He leaned in with a whispered frown as though spies could hear him insulting an American.

Rose laughed, knowing only too well the small-town mentality of newcomers, especially those they classed as foreign, like children whispering in fear of a strange intruder to their lands. She shook her head and beamed at him a little more.

“Well, can you tell her that I said hello? And, I remember her tarts and cakes so fondly.” Rose was feeling more relaxed in the presence of this man. Somehow, she knew this was what she had wanted, a reminder of the people she would soon get to know. Olivia’s people and the reason she had always felt so at home here.

“I shall, my lovely girl. Now you promise me you will get yourself into town and start mingling. There’s an awfully lot of people eager to meet you, and today is the church book sale. Prime sunny day for a bit of introducing, if you know what I mean.” He winked at her knowingly and gave her shoulder an affectionate pat.

“I suppose you’re right. I’ve been cooped up here long enough. A drive into town might be a good idea.” She gratefully smiled back at him, the sudden longing for more human companionship. Now she had a taste of it.

“I’m guessing you’re here on your own, seeing as no man is sorting this mess out for you, Hen?” He was now frowning at her with a lot of fatherly concern like her dad used to display. Rose sighed down the giggle once more.

“I have my little dog with me, but no man. Completely single, I’m afraid.” She couldn’t help but smile at this, knowing how old-fashioned this place was and its view on unmarried young girls living alone. Soon she would have half the town trying to mother her.

“Well, that’s a shame, but I guess it may be a good thing too.” He winked cheekily. “I hear Rob’s available nowadays and quite a catch according to all the town women.” Winking her way, looking at the watch on his wrist, and sighing. Rose was trying to ignore his imminent matchmaking, as love was not on her agenda anytime soon, and for all she knew, the guy Rob could be horrendous.

“I’m sure he is nice; I will definitely check out the book sale in town.” She was now walking him back to his parked van via her open gate, dismissing his suggestion as easily as she could. No matchmaking for her.

Hell no!

“Yes, make sure you do, Lassie. It will be nice to get some fellows up here to sort this out for you. This is a man’s work, not for someone as dainty as you. I’ll talk to Rob and see if the gardeners will come over for you and sort it out.” He left the garden and paused to consider his offer, but Rose quickly refused.

“It’s fine. Really, I’m sure your friend Rob has other things on his plate. I’ll look into hiring a gardener from town if it gets too much for me. I am more than capable of manual labour, honestly.” Rose had always been capable of doing things herself, and even though she was ultimately turning down his offer, she didn’t relish doing much more on her own.

“Rob is the laird. He oversees wee things like this to keep the town happy and beautiful. He has a crew of full-time gardeners for the grounds and would take a half day to do this. Let me talk to him.” He gave her another affectionate beaming smile; all she could do was smile back.

Setting me up with an old man, Tommy? Tut-tut!

Rose had no intention of being harpooned into a date with some ageing landowner. She had met the Laird in visits as a child and was pretty sure he had been married with children even then. Not her cup of tea at all. But then tastes among church-going older women were bound to be completely out of whack with the tastes of a twenty-eight-year-old girl from Edinburgh.

“Well, thank you anyway, don’t go out of your way.” She was trying to thank him, but he was already waving her off with a shaking head, which meant he was ignoring her refusals. With a beep of the horn, he slid into his little van, pulled out to U-turn, and left with another wave out of his side window.

Rose waved back, a feeling of complete deflation running over her now she had returned to rural silence. She hadn’t minded the peace the last couple of weeks, but now she was craving people after that interaction. She was intrigued about this dance too and was not about to go to a ball, in however many weeks, knowing she was not a soul of her new community.

Rose turned back to the cottage and pushed open the door, walking inside just as Muffin peaked out to check all was clear before snorting with a nose in the air as though he had personally chased off the visitor. He turned his little white bushy butt and trotted back to her room. Lately, he’d been hoarding bones under her bed and loved nothing more than to lay in the dark underneath and chew on his prized possessions.

Moving further inside, after she closed the door, she pulled open the long envelope, dumping her other mail on the table in the hall and revealing a cream, elegant invitation with gold and brown scroll. It was announcing the event at Munro manor and was very classy.

She frowned at the name Robert Munro under the Laird title and sighed, hoping to god the matchmaking wouldn’t continue at a public event as she had no desire to date an older man at all, and judging by memory, this one had to be in his late sixties by now.

The event was to raise funds for a local charity. They wanted to help build a new hospital wing and extend the children’s ward to include long-term care rooms for children with more serious illnesses. How could Rose refuse that?

She put it on the top of the fridge, lightly running her fingers over the luxurious paper and mentally going through the dresses in her wardrobe. She had never been to a dance that was so formal sounding before; she wondered if she would have anything at all to wear that wouldn’t look out of place in that big house.

She picked up a mirror and looked over her appearance almost automatically, still mulling it over and shaking her head. Sweaty and mucky, dirty fingernails and hair piled on her head in a haphazard mess.

This wouldn’t do for a town trip.

She turned, dropped the mirror, and headed to the bathroom to run a bubble bath to remove the sweaty smell of desperation. A little spruce up and a trip to town to meet her new neighbours would help. If she played it cool and mingled, they might not even notice that she was trying to find some new friends before it became obvious that she had none.

You know, make the first move, meet the locals. No longer be the stranger at the dance, but someone familiar. Less likely to get stared at.

Her internal pep talk was helping to quell the tight knot of apprehension at putting herself out there for the first time in years. Hopefully, it would not even need to exist by the time she came home.