Winter's End Read Online Free Page B

and on the
market for almost half a year.”
    “Mrs. Winston,”   Mr. MacGregor said
assuredly. “You’re making this out to be more than it is.   Sheep farming is on the decline. The previous
owners realised that and so they did what was economical to them. They sold
out. The property is an hour’s drive from Portree which makes it quite inconvenient to most residents in Skye. And expensive for
most locals to maintain as well. Aside that, there is also the fact that real
estate in Skye tend to sell a little slower than they do in London.” He added
the last statement a tad more sterner in the hope that Emma would put an end to
her curiosity.
    The indirectness did
not go unnoticed. Emma watched him closely. “You sure there is nothing I should
be worried about?”
    “Of course not,” said
Mr. MacGregor , rising from his chair. “Listen, I have
an appointment in ten minutes. I wish I could help you more but there really
isn’t anything that you should be concerned about. If there is anything else Mrs.
Winston, please feel free to drop by anytime.” He extended his hand.
    Emma took it
hesitantly. She hoped, for his sake, that it was true.

 
    *****

 
    “Ted! Ted!” called
out the woman as she leant against her window to get a closer look. “Theodore!”
    A middle-aged man
rushed up the stairs and into the parlour where the woman was. “Yes, Mrs.
Kinnaird?” he said. He heaved breathlessly, trying to keep his tall and thin
stature as upright as possible.
    “She’s back, Theodore,”
the woman said excitedly. “Look, there she is walking up the highway.”
    Theodore glanced
slightly at the window and saw the young woman stop briefly near the road
leading up to the house. “Ah, yes, Mrs. Kinnaird,” he said. “I see her.”
    “Come on, then,” she
rushed out of the room. “Let’s go before we lose her.”
    “Lose her?” he asked
puzzled, racing behind her.
    The older woman
didn’t answer. She called out to her housekeeper. “Nancy! Get my shawl.”
    A woman in her
fifties sprinted out the front door with a deep green shawl and after her
employer.
    “What is it?” she
mouthed silently at Theodore.
    Theodore gestured a
“I’ll tell you later” and hopped into the driver’s seat.
    Mrs. Kinnaird
scrambled into the back seat. Nancy hurriedly closed the door after her
mistress but did not move away from the car. She was still astounded by all the
hastiness caused by Mrs. Kinnaird.
    Nancy had been
working for the Kinnaird’s for almost thirty five years. In all this time she
had seen the family pass through both joy and sorrow. The old woman Kinnaird
was a woman who was quite misunderstood by the people of Skye. But how could
she blame the residents of Skye? Mrs. Kinnaird always had a terrible habit to
interact with the locals on her sourest days. On her better days, she preferred
sitting alone at home with her two little dogs in her flower garden.
    Theodore started the
car and sputtered down the road towards the highway.
    “Where to Mrs.
Kinnaird?”   he asked still unsure of what
his employer wanted.
    “That way and up the
highway,” she said. “I’ll tell you when to turn around.”
    He turned the car to
the left and it slowly moved onto the main road and towards the young woman
strolling up the road.
    “Slow, Theodore,”
said Mrs. Kinnaird almost in a whisper. “So I can see her.”
    The car drove past
slowly. Mrs. Kinnaird peered at the young woman through the dark, tinted
windows. She was wearing a long grey skirt and a pale blue open front cardigan
over a cream top. Her long red curly hair was swept into a top knot on the
crown of her head. She had her face held down so Mrs. Kinnaird could not quite
see how she looked. As the car moved away, she sat back into her seat
thoughtfully.
    “What have you found
about her, Theodore?” she said.
    “She’s a widow from
London. Two kids, ten years old and under, one boy and a girl.”
    “Boy older?”
    “Ah… yes,” he
replied.