Page 11 of Scotch & Dreams

Craggy’s, aptly named, sat perched on a craggy part of a hillside that overlooked the sea. The ocean stretched itself to the sky where she could barely tell where one met the other. It was so vast that Violet’s heart squeezed. In her twenty-nine years on this planet, she'd seen the ocean for the first time just two days ago—from the plane—and now it surrounded her in all it's breathtaking expanse.

The inside of Craggy’s was cozy and quaint. Sea-farer paraphernalia from years gone by adorned the white-paneled walls. A large stone fireplace with low, rugged old wood beams added to the charm of the old place. The best part was how delicious it smelled inside, like a breakfast bouquet of pancakes, bacon, toast, and coffee. It gave her hope for the black pudding.

Lachlan led them to one of the plaid-covered booth seats near large windows overlooking the sea. Violet slid into the seat opposite Lachlan. They’d only just sat down when an older, portly man with thick white hair and kind, crinkly eyes put his meaty hand down on Lachlan’s shoulder.

“Lachlan, laddie, it’s been an age! How’s yer mam and da then?”

Lachlan patted his hand. “Aye, they’re well. Always fussin’ each other, but they’re good. Mam, just got back from a trip to Portugal with the ladies.”

“Och, aye, aye. Portugal’s lovely this time of year.”

Violet sat back, thoroughly enjoying their easy banter.

“And who’s this lovely lassie then?” The light-hearted man turned his attention to her.

“This is Violet. Violet, meet Robbie, owner of Craggy’s and chef extraordinaire.”

“Och, aye, owner, no’ sure ’bout chef and all that, but I do make the best haggis in all of Argyle. Can I tempt ye, lassie?”

It took Violet a moment to comprehend what Robbie said because his accent was so thick. “Well, I suppose when in Rome…” Violet smiled lightly, a little nervous to try haggis.

“Och, American,” Robbie said as more of a statement.

“Canadian,” Violet corrected. She’d been asked the same question her first night here when she ordered takeout from a little café near her Airbnb. She supposed it was a common assumption.

“Och, right, right. Canadian. I huv a cousin that lives out in Toronto. I’ve always meant to go myself, but I cannae seem to get away from this place.” He grinned.

Violet sensed he was completely content right where he was.

“Maybe one day.” She smiled at him.

“Aye, one day. And just so ye ken, lassie. Yer not even close to Rome.”

Violet giggled, and Robbie winked at her.

“Aside from the haggis, what else ken I git the two of ye for yer dining pleasures this fine morning?”

“We’ll take two of yer famous Scots breakfasts,” Lachlan said.

Violet wondered how often he came here for one of these breakfasts. Craggy’s looked to be a favourite spot for the locals. She could hear the din of Scottish accents. There was something that charmed her about the small-town feel here.

“Aye, good choice, laddie.” Robbie grinned, and his eyes twinkled as he whipped the drying towel he’d been holding over his shoulder. “We’ll huv it out to ye in a wee shake of a lamb’s tail. Lovely to meet ye, lassie,” he said as he turned to mosey on back to the kitchen.

“Nice to meet you too,” Violet called out.

Robbie lifted a hand in acknowledgment. Violet turned back to Lachlan, who was watching her with those cerulean blue eyes, making her pulse kick up a notch.

“So I suppose breakfast includes the dark pudding too?” she asked, reluctantly.

Lachlan chuckled. “It's called black pudding, lassie, and aye, it does.”

Violet eyed him skeptically. “Great.”

“I can hear the excitement in yer voice,” he teased.

“Mmhm,” she muttered, leaning her elbow on the table and shoving a hand under her chin.

“I dinnae realize ye were Canadian. I also assumed ye were American. I huvnae been to Canada, but I’ve always wanted to go.”

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