Dylan and Nick made sandwiches and then headed out. As soon as she was alone, she started cleaning the kitchen. Lucy, the housekeeper, had taken time off but would be back late this afternoon.
Isabel wanted the kitchen to be spotless when she arrived, which was no small feat with the brothers constantly digging through the refrigerator and the cabinets looking for food. They acted like bears getting ready to hibernate.
The family dinner was tomorrow night, the actual date of their parents’ marriage. The menu was set with all of their favorite dishes, and it would be only the immediate family . . . and her. Isabel didn’t think she should attend because she wasn’t part of the immediate family, but Dylan was insistent. Helping any way she could made her feel as though she was contributing and wasn’t taking advantage of the Buchanans’ kindness and generosity.
She was scrubbing the countertop when Judge Buchanan and his wife walked in. Thrilled to see them, she dropped the sponge and ran to greet them.
Mrs. Buchanan—Elizabeth to her husband and friends—was an elegant lady. The sparkle in her eyes gave her a youthful appearance. The only sign of her years was the short silver hair that framed her face. She was the kind of woman who could wear anything and be the most fashionable woman in
the room. Her smile, so warm and genuine, made her even more beautiful. It was obvious to Isabel that both Jordan and Sidney had inherited their grace and elegance from her.
Judge Buchanan was an older version of his sons. He was as tall as they were and just as handsome as Michael, even at his advanced age. The wrinkles on his face from years of sun and wind while sailing his boat didn’t detract from his appearance. In fact, they made him look even more handsome. There was such dignity about him in the way he walked and the way he spoke, and there was kindness, too. She felt she could talk to the judge about anything, just as she could with Dylan.
Well, almost anything. There were probably some things even the judge wouldn’t want to discuss.
Like her sex life. That would probably be a topic to avoid. She could never talk to him or Dylan about that. The mere thought made her shudder.
Isabel realized her head was in the clouds again and forced herself to pay attention to what the judge was telling her. Or as Michael would say, she needed to focus on the task at hand.
She made iced tea with mint for them and sat in the living room while they told her all about their mini vacation. Isabel noticed they smiled at each other often. The love flowing between them was enviable, and she hoped that one day she would experience the same.
“Now it’s your turn, Isabel. Catch us up on your life,” the judge insisted. “Anything exciting going on?”
If he only knew. She smiled but was saved from answering when Mrs. Buchanan said, “You’ll soon be on your way to Scotland, won’t you?”
“Yes. I’m going to see the land my great-uncle left me. I talked to the solicitor in Dunross, Scotland, who is handling the inheritance, so I’ll be meeting with him. I really don’t know much about it except that it’s a very large piece of land in the Highlands. I’ll be going next week as long as there aren’t any setbacks. I guess you could say there have been a few glitches . . .”
“Glitches?” Michael laughed after repeating the word as he strode into the living room.
“That’s code for ‘not wishing to discuss this now,’ Michael,” she said through a clinched smile.
“Your parents just returned home. It’s a festive occasion, you . . .” Dear God, she’d almost called him a jerk in front of his parents. What was the matter with her? From the way Michael was looking at her, she was pretty sure he had guessed she’d almost blurted out something inappropriate about him.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to something upstairs.” She didn’t give anyone time to ask her questions but rushed up to the bedroom she now thought of as her hideaway.
As lovely and kind as all the Buchanans were, Isabel changed her mind about not staying at the Hamilton. There she wouldn’t face the risk of running into Michael all the time. Even being in the same room with him made her nervous. Michael would have a good laugh if he knew how easily he rattled her. One kiss and she was ready to rip her clothes off . . . and his. She was in over her head.
And Michael? He couldn’t care less about her. That little kiss hadn’t fazed him . . . the big jerk.
Enough already. She didn’t want to think about him any longer. Keeping busy was the solution.
With that notion in mind she opened her laptop and began to answer her emails. It took a long while and she was about to close up when another email appeared. This one was from Xavier. She was almost afraid to open it. Her immediate thought was that he had changed his mind and no longer wanted her to sing, which would have been a disappointment but also a big relief. Just thinking about
getting up onstage in front of thousands of people terrified her. There was another worry, too. What if he changed his mind and no longer wanted to buy her song? That would be devastating.
“Just open the thing,” she whispered.
The message Xavier sent was upbeat, telling her how eager he was to meet her. He also included a clip of him onstage singing the song he wanted Isabel to sing with him. He thought she might want to work on it, and Thursday they’d sing it together as many times as necessary to get it the way he wanted. He also explained that he had reserved a suite overlooking the stage for her family and friends. His assistant just needed to know the number of tickets Isabel would need. He added his assistant’s email address and ended his email with his full name.
Her thought to keep quiet about Xavier and let the focus be on the parents’ celebration wasn’t possible now. Isabel would tell all of them tonight, she decided.
The next order of business was for Isabel to “man up,” as Dylan would say, and watch the video of her shooting that horrible man.
She found the text the woman on the street had sent and activated the video. As she watched it, she paid close attention to Detective Walsh stumbling into her arms. Just as she suspected, he was mumbling something to her, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“Isabel?” Michael knocked on her door and said her name again.
“Come in.”
He opened the door and said, “Do you still want to see Detective Walsh?”
“Yes, I do. Now?”
“Yes, now.”
She didn’t know why Michael was suddenly being accommodating, but she wasn’t going to question his motives if it meant he’d take her to Walsh.
“Give me five minutes. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
It took her fifteen minutes to change. At her request, the bell captain had put her suitcase for Scotland in storage, and most of the clothes she had brought in her backpack were meant for a casual visit to Nathan’s Bay, but thankfully she had thought to pack a couple of dresses. She quickly changed into a yellow cotton sundress and hurried downstairs.