1 Off Kilter Read Online Free Page B

wool, but all stages of the process to create yarn for retail sale and for commercial wool product distribution was conducted. MacBride’s place was one of many tourist attractions in these parts, with regular sheep-shearing demonstrations and a gift shop specializing in all kinds of finished wool products and yarns.
    Despite having done a fair amount of research before this trip, I hadn’t come across anything about the MacBride farm, probably because it was on the outskirts of Glenkillen. I was more eager to visit the village pubs and shops. At the top of my list was a pub called the Kilt & Thistle, Glenkillen Books, the Whisky Stop, and A Taste of Scotland, which advertised sweet oaties, Dundee cakes (whatever those were), and six flavors of shortbread. And the Whistling Inn, where Ami had reserved a room for my extended stay that included a full Scottish breakfast.
    “The funeral is today at five o’clock, and the family is feuding something fierce,” Leith gossiped as Kelly and I got to be pals. “Story is, James MacBride left everything to his oldest daughter, who he hadn’t seen since she was a bairn. Worse, his two grown children from his second marriage were left out of his will altogether, and one of them even runs the family business with her husband. An’ none of ’em will cry baurley-fummil.”
    That last part flew right past me, although I was pretty sure the barley part didn’t involve any grain.
    “Whose side are you on?” I asked, genuinely curious.
    “I don’t take sides. ‘Live and let live’ is my motto.”
    We crested the top of a hill, and Glenkillen and the North Sea came into view. In its harbor and as far out into the ocean as I could see, sailboats rode the waves, their colorful spinnakers flying. A few fishing boats were heading out into the vast rolling water, and other boats of varying sizes were tied to moorings, rising and falling with the waves. Through my open window, I breathed in salty ocean air.
    “What do ye think of it?” Leith asked with obvious pride.
    “It’s more beautiful than I imagined.” My tiredness gave way to excitement. Soon we were driving along Castle Street with its quaint shops, exactly like the images I’d seen online. People crowded the streets, shopping, eating, drinking, milling about. I loved seeing this village and all its energy, even in my travel-weary state.
    I heard a bagpipe jig coming from inside a pub.
    “‘Biddy from Sligo’,” Leith muttered, glancing my way.
    “Excuse me?” Was he calling me a biddy? And if so, did that mean the same thing in Scotland as it did at home?
    He laughed when he noticed my expression. “Name of the jig, that’s all.”
    I laughed, too, at the misunderstanding, one of many more to come, I was sure.
    Leith pulled over next to a discreet hotel sign, hopped out, gathered my bags, and deposited them inside the entryway, again refusing my assistance when I tried to offer it. I thanked him, then turned to his companion.
    “Good-bye, Kelly,” I said to the friendly canine through the open window. “Hope we run into each other again.”
    Leith grinned. “Don’t worry there.” He opened the driver’s door, then turned back. “Ye should come to the pub tonight,” he said. “Everybody’s invited after the funeral, for a proper send-off.”
    “Doesn’t sound like my kind of event,” I told him, thinking of the MacBrides and their personal problems. “Especially if the family is fighting like cats and dogs.”
    Leith grinned. “Ye don’t strike me as a woman who tiptoes around. Ye certainly weren’t tiptoeing back when I found ye, now, were ye?”
    “No, I guess I wasn’t.” More like trying to kick the car into a zillion pieces.
    “If ye come, I’ll buy ye a pint,” he said, his smile its own form of enticement, “And give ye an update on yer car.”
    “Another time, perhaps,” I heard my voice saying. What was wrong with me? Why was I making excuses instead of taking this handsome