side of the swinging door, Meg said, “I sure wish there was some other place to stay. Tilda doesn’t improve any on longer acquaintance.”
“Oh? You’re forgetting the heart of gold Angus said was in that little bundle of venom?”
Meg sighed. “I always do try to look for the good in people, but my patience with Tilda’s attitude is wearing a bit thin.”
“Maybe we will be out of here tomorrow. Did you pack something to wear to this formal occasion?” Charlie asked looking down at their jeans and tanktops and grimacing. “You know how much I hate dressing up.”
“I brought a little blue number that should do fine with a little shaking out. What did you pack?”
“A simple black dress that Rayne tossed at me before she left. We’re almost exactly the same size, though complete opposites in every other way.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Charlie. Under all that fluff, I think there’s a lot more to our baby sister that we’ve found so far.”
“Or she’s found. Let’s get some sweaters and head to the pub. It’s the best place to learn what is going on here.”
***
The shadows were lengthening, as they took the short cut through the graveyard. Wandering among the stones, they couldn’t resist reading the epitaphs. “Look! That one’s so old I can’t even make out the inscription, but this one is quite recent…a Thomas Argyle…only twenty years old. I wonder what happened to him?” Meg called to Charlie.
“And this one is only thirty and died just six months ago,” Charlie called back. Meg joined her and they both looked down at the simple granite slab. “Maybe a farm accident? I forget the statistics, but farming can be very dangerous occupation.”
“We’ll ask Angus when we get back to the manse,” Meg replied. “Let’s go take a closer look at that mausoleum. It’s really gorgeous if you like that kind of thing.”
It was exactly like a small squat granite house…a house for the dead…without windows except for the stained glass panels just under the eaves over the double doors. The name MacMorley was worked into the stone fretwork.
Charlie climbed up the steps and tried the doors. They were locked.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Meg called up to her. “Get down from there before we’re both thrown into whatever passes for a jail around here!”
Charlie laughed. “I was just checking it out. They must be stacked to the ceiling in there!”
“I don’t think that’s even remotely funny! They’re probably listening to you at this very minute and who is sleeping closest to the window that overlooks this very spot?”
“You! We could change beds if that will make you feel better.”
Muttering under her breath, she marched up the steps, grabbed Charlie’s arm and yanked her down. “We are going to the pub now as planned. No more poking around here, especially since it’s almost dark.”
Charlie linked her arm with Meg’s. “Okay…okay…let’s go find something, or someone, a little more lively!”
But, as it turned out, the pub was almost as dead as the graveyard. A hush had fallen over the room that smelled of stale beer and pipe smoke, as they crossed the stained wide planked floor. Several old men were playing cards along the back wall…one was wearing a kilt Meg noted…while two others leaned on the bar talking with the publican. “Whit will ye hae?” the barman called to them, his tone was more neutral than hostile.
“Two pints of whatever you have on tap,” Charlie said with the warmest smile she could muster. “And some chips if you have any.”
“The fryer isnae on. Hae a seat and Ah’ll get yer pints, but ye hae to pay up nou.”
They paid for their drinks, then crossed to the nearest table and sat down. Slowly, they looked around the room. The low-beamed ceiling was dark with age and years of smoke from the blackened fireplace that took up most of the side wall. The bar itself was highly polished oak with carved