tipping his fisherman’s cap. “A wee dram awaits in the drawing room near where ye came in.”
Judith hurriedly unpacked, hanging their clothes in a capacious wardrobe. Joe showered first. When Judith’s turn came, she was elated to discover that although the bathroom fixtures looked old, the plumbing was modern. She had no problem pulling the toilet’s chain as long as it flushed; she didn’t mind the outdated faucets if they poured hot and cold water. Maybe, she thought, just maybe, she might succumb to the castle’s charm. After all, the sun might come out in the morning.
“Good grief!” she cried, coming out of the garderobe wrapped in a large white towel. “I just realized I don’t have clothes for this kind of weather! I packed for California. Or someplace like it.”
Joe looked puzzled. “If you didn’t know where we were going, why didn’t you bring clothes you could wear anyplace?”
Judith heaved a big sigh. “Women don’t pack like that. I’ll bet Renie’s having a fit.”
“Renie was almost over the limit on her luggage,” Joe pointed out. “I’ll bet she’s brought along some…ah… warmer stuff.”
Judith was shoving garments this way and that in the wardrobe. “This purple and white orchid dress with the ruffled sweater,” she muttered. “That’ll have to do for tonight. I’ll call Renie and Bill to find out how soon they’ll be ready.” Judith looked around the big room. “I don’t see a phone.”
“Um…they don’t have one in the guest rooms. No TV, either, but,” Joe went on cheerfully, “that’s because there’s so much else to do.”
Judith started to dress. “Such as?”
“Well…the village, shops, history. Oh—dolphins. They call them bottlenoses—or something like that.”
“You left out fishing,” Judith said sharply.
Joe looked surprised. “You want to fish?”
“Never mind.” Judith applied lipstick and blush. “Let’s eat.”
By chance, Renie and Bill were leaving their room. Renie was wearing a wool emerald green sweater with a long black wool skirt.
“For sunny California?” Judith asked with sarcasm.
Renie shrugged. “Once the sun goes down, it gets chilly in Southern California.”
“Nice room,” Bill remarked as they headed for the staircase. “Too bad it’s not on the ocean. We see the village.”
“All those bright lights,” Judith retorted. “All four of them?”
“I built a fire,” Bill said.
“That must be pleasant,” Judith responded. “Joe’s going to try that after dinner. If he can find the flint.”
They started down the circular stairs. “I’m taking the elevator back up,” Judith declared.
“What elevator?” Renie asked.
“There’s one somewhere,” Bill said vaguely.
They reached the ground floor. “The gong,” Judith said. “Have we heard the gong signaling dinner?”
“It’s two minutes after eight,” Judith said, looking at her watch. “How could we hear it through these thick stone walls?”
“Good point,” Joe said. He gestured straight ahead. “That’s where we came in. The drawing room is—” He stopped. At the far end of the passageway, a small, furtive figure skittered into view, paused, turned around, and disappeared.
“Who was that?” Judith asked.
“What was that?” Renie said. “A kid? The butler? Our waiter?”
The door to the drawing room opened just before the foursome moved on. A man in proper butler’s attire beamed at them. He looked familiar to Judith.
“Gibbs?” she said.
“Aye,” he replied, still smiling. “The finest Scottish whiskey awaits ye. Did ye hear the gong?”
“Aye,” Judith said. “I mean—nae. No.”
Gibbs nodded. “I thought not. Nobody ever does.”
The drawing room made Judith catch her breath. Some of the furnishings looked very old, perhaps from the seventeenth or even sixteenth century, but they had been lovingly restored. Brocades, silks, and velvet covered the chairs and settees. Many of the pieces were heavy and solid. The walls were paneled in oak; the ceiling was coffered. Judith immediately moved to the fireplace hearth where logs were ablaze. The chimney, she noticed, was decorated with a stag’s head, proper.
“The family crest?” she inquired as Gibbs stood by a satinwood table where decanters, glassware, and an ice bucket had been set out.
The ferryman cum butler smiled. “Aye, the Forbes clan. The master is a Fordyce, a sept o’ the Forbes. There’s a Castle Fordyce to the southeast, but distant kin, ye ken. Now and again, folks get confused, come to the wrong one.”
“That’s understandable,” Judith said. “Did this Fordyce inherit Grimloch Castle?”
“Nae.” Gibbs’s face turned stony. “The master…bought it some twenty-odd years ago.” He cleared his throat. “Will ye be drinking his special malt?”
