A View to a Kilt Read online

  The house she shared with her husband was the middle building of three on the block of Birch Street that faced the town square. The one beyond hers, on the corner of Birch and Main Street, belonged to John Farley, selectman and accountant. He and his wife were neighbors, but not close friends of Liss’s. In contrast, the couple living next door to Liss and Dan, on the other side, were old pals from Liss’s professional Scottish dancing days. Sandy and Zara Kalishnakof operated Dance Central on the first floor and lived in the apartment above with their two children. Since Saturday was their busiest day, with classes in ballet, tap, and ballroom dance scheduled from nine until five for students who couldn’t get to a lesson during the workweek, neither had attended the town meeting. As Liss drove past, she thought she heard the faint strains of a waltz.

  She parked in the garage and exited through its rear door. As she made her way to the back stoop, she glanced toward the old carriage house Dan had turned into a shop for his woodworking business. The lights were still on, which meant he hadn’t yet finished for the day. He had a huge backlog of orders for the custom-made jigsaw-puzzle tables he created. Dozens had come in right before Christmas, when last-minute shoppers had gone searching online for unique gifts. Despite the price tag, and even though customers were told it might be April before they received the finished product, since each table took a week to produce, there always seemed to be buyers waiting in the wings.

  The flagstone path had recently been shoveled, but Liss still had to watch her footing. The ragged piles of snow on both sides had melted during the day, sending rivulets of dirty water onto the walkway. These refroze and thawed again with every shift in the weather. According to the thermometer in her car, the temperature had hovered right around thirty-two degrees all day. She felt certain the sun was somewhere up in the bleak sky overhead, but at the moment it was well hidden behind ominous-looking clouds.

  As Liss unlocked the back door, she gave thought to whether she’d missed any sales by closing Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium. Her hours tended to be flexible, since the bulk of her profit came from online and mail orders. Lately, it seemed, volunteering to help with various community efforts took up more and more of her time. She kept telling herself she needed to learn how to say no. This year’s March Madness Mud Season Sale was a case in point. She’d never intended to take charge, but here she was, responsible for herding the other shopkeepers, meeting deadlines, and attending to the million-and-one tiny details no one remembered until the last minute.

  This winter had already presented more of a challenge to local businesses than most. An unusually long warm spell in January had kept skiers and snowmobilers from flocking to Carrabassett County the way they usually did. The rest of the season had been plagued by one blizzard after another. Heavy snowfall should have been good for business, but the weather had been so bad that flights were grounded and roads closed. Unable to reach their destination, tourists ended up canceling plans to spend time in western Maine. Even Five Mountains, a ski area just north of Moosetookalook, was rumored to be hurting. Liss had heard they were in financial difficulty. Privately, she thought that might be as much due to poor management as to uncooperative weather, but if the resort closed, it would be bad for the entire county.

  Seconds after she stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind her, she was greeted by a welcoming chirp. A small black cat appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, to wind herself around Liss’s ankles.

  “Hello to you, too, Glenora.”

  As she bent down to scratch behind her pet’s ears, Liss caught herself scanning the room for Lumpkin. Then she remembered, and her heart gave a painful stutter. The big yellow Maine Coon cat was no longer with them.

  Liss cuddled the smaller feline in her arms, sighing as a wave of sadness washed over her. She missed the old boy something awful. He’d shared her life for more than ten years, ever since the day she’d inherited him from the woman who’d also left her the building that now housed Carrabassett County Wood Crafts. She reminded herself that Lumpkin had enjoyed a good, long, mostly healthy life. He’d reached the advanced age of eighteen before developing an inoperable tumor. Sadly, logic didn’t mitigate her sense of loss. There was an empty space in her life. Although Lumpkin had been gone since late January, she still looked for him first thing every morning, even before she got out of bed, and still expected him to be waiting for her when she got home from work.

  She wondered if Glenora felt the same way she did. It must seem strange to her to be an only cat. She’d been Lumpkin’s sidekick ever since Liss first brought her home as a kitten.

  “Poor baby,” she crooned.

  At once, Glenora began to purr, forcing Liss to admit the truth. She felt sorrier for herself than she did for Lumpkin’s adopted sister. He had not been the easiest cat to live with, but his quirks had given him a distinct personality. There would never be another like him.

  The sound of Dan’s cheerful whistling snapped her out of her pity party. She wiped away a stray tear and shifted Glenora to one arm so she could open the door for her husband. She couldn’t help but feel better when she caught sight of his smile.

  Liss hadn’t married Dan Ruskin for his looks, but she’d always found his sand-colored hair and molasses-brown eyes attractive. For a man of nearly forty, he was in excellent physical condition. Turning out custom-made jigsaw-puzzle tables for a living meant he got less exercise than when he had worked full-time at Ruskin Construction. He might have put on a little extra weight around the middle, but he was a long way from running to fat. Even at a glance, he gave the impression of strength and dependability. At six-two, he was also the perfect height to go with her five-foot-nine frame.

  “Good day?”

  “Excellent. I’m almost caught up on orders.”

  She had no trouble returning his smile and responded with enthusiasm to the hug and kiss with which he enhanced their exchange of greetings. Glenora, trapped between them, was less pleased by the display of affection. She squirmed and kicked until they broke apart.

  “How was the town meeting?” Dan asked.

  “Pretty much what you’d expect.”

  He moved past her to check on the stew simmering in the slow cooker on the countertop. A tantalizing aroma drifted out when he lifted the cover, mingling with the mouthwatering smell coming from the bread machine that sat next to it. Liss’s stomach growled.

  She and Dan kept country hours, eating supper as soon as they were both home from work. One-handed, since Glenora was currently draped over the other shoulder and purring in her ear, Liss collected the bowls and bread plates and silverware they needed for their evening meal.

  “Hardly anyone was there, but there was lots of debate anyway. And, of course, one newbie wanted to know what ‘tarvia’ is.” That question had come early in the proceedings.

  Behind her, she heard Dan chuckle. She had been the one to ask that question at the first town meeting they’d gone to together. Back then, she’d had no clue that “tarvia” was just an old-fashioned term still used in these parts to refer to paving for the town roads.

  “Any problem getting the money for next year’s Mud Season Sale?”

  “None at all. I had my parents and Aunt Margaret primed to back me up, but as it turned out, they didn’t need to say a word.”

  “Was my father there?”

  Liss shook her head. Although Joe Ruskin owned The Spruces, a major employer for townspeople, none of the items in the town warrant had directly impacted the hotel. Like his son, he’d undoubtedly preferred being at work to sitting through a long, boring meeting. Liss wouldn’t have minded doing the same.

  Glenora chose that moment to decide she’d had enough of being held. She squirmed until Liss released her. Landing on the kitchen floor, she sent a disdainful look over her shoulder, then walked to her food dish, sat down in front of it, and let out a yowl loud enough to wake the dead.

  Liss and Dan turned to stare at her.

  “She’s never
done that before.” Ordinarily, Glenora was a quiet cat, more likely to mime a silent meow than to yowl, howl, or screech.

  Dan’s eyes twinkled, although the rest of his face remained set in a serious expression. He waited a beat, then said, solemn-voiced, “We may have to hold a séance or maybe an exorcism. I’m pretty certain she’s channeling Lumpkin.”

  * * *

  Three Cities, Maine—actually only one city, and a small one at that—wasn’t all that far from Moosetookalook. Driving there on winding, twisty back roads as far as Fallstown, and then by way of a four-lane highway, which had actual exits, took about an hour and a half in good weather. On this particular Monday, the weather gods were smiling. Liss made good time and pulled into the parking lot next to the building that housed the Three Cities Genealogy Society just as the bus that group had chartered arrived to transport members to Logan Airport in Boston.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with taking care of Dandy and Dondi while I’m gone?” Margaret asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

  “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” Liss assured her.

  In unison, they glanced over their shoulders at the backseat, where two small animal carriers were held in place by seat belts. Two pairs of alert black eyes stared back at them. The Scotties were good travelers, but they were suspicious. From their point of view, Margaret’s plan to leave the country for two weeks was tantamount to abandonment.

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” Liss said, also for the hundredth time. “The dogs won’t be any bother. You go and have a good time tracing the Boyd side of the family tree.”

  Margaret chuckled. “Your father thinks I’m daft to spend time in Ireland when I could go to Scotland again instead. As far as I know, we MacCrimmons don’t have a drop of Irish blood in our veins, but my grandson is a different story. I’m hoping one day he’ll be interested in hearing about his grandfather’s roots.”

  Liss had her doubts. Her cousin Ed had never known Margaret’s late husband. Liss could barely remember Noah Boyd herself. He’d died when she was still in high school. His grandson, in common with most young men of college age, preferred to focus on the here and now.

  A low whine drew her attention back to Dandy and Dondi. They sensed something was up and they weren’t happy about it. Liss suspected it had been a mistake to bring them along, but when her aunt had insisted, she hadn’t had the heart to argue. She understood all too well the deep attachment that existed between pet owner and pet.

  Margaret got out of the car and immediately set about releasing the two Scottish terriers from their cages. She snapped on their leashes so she could take them for one final walk before she boarded the Boston-bound bus.

  While some of Margaret’s fellow genealogy society members made a fuss over the dogs, Liss busied herself unloading her aunt’s luggage from the trunk. She carried the bags over to the waiting driver so he could stash them with the rest of the cargo.

  He looked her up and down. “You seem a little young for this jaunt.”

  “That’s why I get to stay home and dog-sit.”

  She didn’t appreciate the leer, but he was right about the average age of the participants. It was upward of sixty. Despite that, they were a spry and enthusiastic bunch. Even the one gentleman obliged to use a walker wasn’t letting it slow him down.

  Twenty minutes later, after tearful hugs and farewells had been bestowed upon each of the two Scotties and her niece, Margaret settled herself in a window seat. Liss kept a tight hold on the leashes. She waved with her free hand until the bus turned out of the lot and into the street before she headed back to the car.

  “Come on, you two. We’re going home now.”

  Her gentle tugs met resistance. When she looked down, she saw that Dandy and Dondi were holding identical poses. All four legs firmly planted, they stared up at her with reproach in their eyes.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault she wanted to go on this trip! And now I’m arguing with a pair of pups.” She rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again. “Either you two walk to the car under your own steam, or I carry you. One way or another, we’re out of here.”

  Dandy and Dondi exchanged a speaking glance. Liss could almost swear they were using telepathy to communicate with each other. She’d seen Lumpkin and Glenora do the same on occasion.

  “Want to come play with your friend Glenora?” she asked in a coaxing voice.

  Although Lumpkin had never quite gotten over his dislike of the two dogs, and had asserted his superiority whenever they were in the same room with him, Glenora was more easygoing. On occasion she’d even acted in a friendly manner toward them, although, to be honest, most of the time she ignored their existence.

  Liss gave Dandy and Dondi a few more seconds to make up their minds, then tugged again on their leashes. This time they trotted after her to the car and didn’t fuss when she returned them to their carriers. They were accustomed to traveling in confinement. Before Margaret adopted them, they’d been two thirds of an act called Deidre’s Dancing Doggies. They’d gone on the road with their original owner, performing all over the country and on television.

  “You’re going to stay at my place for a while,” Liss informed the two dogs as she started the engine. “We’ll put your beds in the kitchen.”

  She didn’t anticipate that the arrangement would cause them too much trauma. Dandy and Dondi had often visited her house. Besides, she planned to take them with her when she went to work. They were familiar with the shop, since they’d lived in the apartment above for the last three years. Weather permitting, they’d spend part of each day as they usually did, out of doors in the dog run at the back of the building.

  “You’re awfully quiet back there,” Liss said after a while.

  She couldn’t see anything but the top of the carriers in her rearview mirror and didn’t want to risk twisting around in her seat for a better look. This is as bad as having kids, she thought, but at least there was no chance the Scotties would be able to unhook themselves from the seat belts.

  A low, snuffling sound reassured her that they had not been abducted by aliens, but reinforced Liss’s feeling that they were upset by having seen Margaret carried away on that bus. She’d give them dog treats as soon as they got home, she decided. Maybe that would help.

  Then she had a better idea.

  “Listen up, guys,” she called out in an upbeat tone of voice. “I’m making burgers for supper and you’re each going to get a small patty of ground sirloin all your own.”

  If that didn’t cheer them up, nothing would.

  Chapter Two

  Two days later, the weather once again turned foul. Liss walked to work, the dogs in tow, through an icy rain that was not quite sleet, but came darned close. Neither her umbrella nor her warm, fleece-lined raincoat did much to keep her dry. As soon as they climbed the steps to the front porch at Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium and were under cover, all three of them shook themselves.

  “If you have business to attend to,” Liss told the two Scotties, who had shown no inclination to linger along the way, “do it now.” As it was, she’d have to dry them off before she turned them loose in the shop.

  They looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had, the way she kept talking to them as if they could understand every word. Amused by her own foolishness, Liss unlocked the door. Tugging on their leashes, she headed straight for the stockroom and the fluffy towels she kept there. The Scotties seemed to enjoy their brisk rubdown.

  Once Liss turned them loose, she set about making coffee. She was trying to cut back on her caffeine intake, but a bleak morning like this one called for a second cup of the reviving brew. She’d need it to jump-start her brain.

  Emerging from the back room of the shop a few minutes later, coffee mug in hand, Liss looked around for Dandy and Dondi. She located them in front of the door to the stairs that led up to her aunt’s apartment. Dondi stood about a foot away from it, all four legs braced wide apart.
He was staring intently at the wooden barrier. Dandy had positioned herself a little closer, one paw extended as if to scratch the surface. She held her head cocked at an angle that suggested she was listening for something and made an odd little sound when Liss approached her, somewhere between a bark and a yip.

  Liss thought she understood what was bothering the Scotties. They missed Margaret and didn’t understand why they couldn’t go home. “I wish I could let you stay in her apartment unsupervised,” she said, “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  They’d just have to make the best of being stuck in the shop with her. The day before, they’d seemed fine with that. After they’d investigated every nook and cranny of the Emporium, they’d curled up for a nap on the area rug in the “cozy corner,” where Liss had arranged two comfortable chairs for the convenience of customers who wanted to relax and browse through the books displayed on a nearby shelf.

  Since yesterday had been chilly, but not too cold, Liss had let the Scotties into their fenced-in yard two or three times. She’d felt comfortable leaving them outside for twenty minutes at a stretch, but that wasn’t an option today. It would be a challenge to convince them to go out at all. She grimaced when she recalled that in their previous life they’d been trained to use pee pads. She hoped they didn’t decide the area rug in the cozy corner was a good substitute.

  Liss’s attempts to lure Dandy and Dondi away from the stairwell were unsuccessful. They even turned up their noses at her offer of dog treats. In the end she left them to it and went on with her daily routine, booting up the computer that doubled as a cash register so she could check for online orders. When she’d printed the four that had come in overnight, she glanced at the clock. It was already nine, time to turn the CLOSED sign to OPEN.

  Liss kept two other signs handy, although she used them less frequently. One was, BACK IN FIFTEEN MINUTES. The other read, OPEN BY CHANCE OR APPOINTMENT and gave her cell phone number.