Page 55 of Scotch & Dreams

"Lachlan is always talking about his team at the sanctuary. He’s says that he’d be lost without ye all.”

“It is a pretty amazing group of people.” Violet reflected on how true that was.

“Aye, I've heard. But Lachlan talks about ye, Violet, as his right hand.”

“He does?” Violet felt goosebumps skitter down her spine.

Orlagh set her empty glass on a nearby table. “My brother holds you in very high regard.”

Violet couldn’t help the feeling of pride swelling up inside her. She knew she’d become important to Lachlan with the business, but knowing he'd talked to his sister about her being his right hand was so gratifying.

“I hold him in very high regard too,” she admitted.

“He said you also huv yer own business doing personal styling as well.”

Violet was surprised that Lachlan would tell Orlagh about her business. “I do, although I only have a couple of clients now. To be honest, the sanctuary has taken up more of my focus over the past month. I love it there. It’s unlike any job I’ve had before.” Violet didn’t miss the look of approval in Orlagh’s eyes, and oddly enough, she appreciated it. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I’m no’ sure yet what my heart desires, but fer now, I’m helping out at the distillery.”

The two ladies chatted for a time as the party seemed to be going on full swing around them. Orlagh was one of those people Violet felt an instant kinship with. She was easy to talk with. Violet noticed that Orlagh spoke about Lachlan as if she thought Violet and Lachlan were close. Saying things like, "Oh, ye ken how he is, always needing to seek out a quiet spot."

It surprised Violet that shedidknow. She'd noticed that Lachlan was a people person, and yet, more often than not, she'd find him where there were no people at all, like he'd intentionally sought to be alone. And yet, he never seemed to mind her intrusion.

“Well, I suppose we should both get back to the festivities. It was great meeting you, Violet. I hope we see each other again soon.” Orlagh gave Violet’s hand a squeeze and disappeared into the throngs of people.

Violet stood there reflecting on the entire encounter when Andy sauntered up to her, ruddy-cheeked and grinning like he was having the time of his life. “Shall we?” he said, offering her his arm in a grand gesture.

Violet accepted it and let Andy lead her through the crowd, not quite certain where they were going.

“I thought you and Fiona ditched me.”

“I’ve lost Fi to the mob, but I huv no doubt she’s keeping herself entertained," he said, with a knowing wink.

As they made their way to the stairs, Violet was scanning the crowd for Lachlan, although she was not certain if she wanted to see him or not, especially if he was still in the company of Anna MacDonald. "Dinnae fash, Fiona didnae want to go on the tour anyway.”

"Tour?" Violet asked.

Andy looked at her like she'd lost her marbles. "Aye, the whisky tour, remember?”

"Oh, yes, right." Violet had actually forgotten all about it while chatting with Orlagh and being distracted with Lachlan. Always distracted with Lachlan, since the moment their eyes had locked on that fateful evening on the beach.

"The whisky rooms down here are legendary," Andy quipped excitedly.

"Oh?" Violet asked curiously.

"Aye, they say that somewhere down here is a bottle from the original batch, and well, if ye believe the folklore, they say if anyone were find it and huv a wee sip, it's a bit like findin' the Holy Grail.”

Violet snorted.

"Dinnae laugh. There are many who believe it has healin' powers," Andy said quietly as if it were too holy to discuss out loud, and then he crossed himself. "There was even a documentary about it on the BBC.”

"There was not!" Violet laughed in spite of his serious tone.

"Och, aye, there was."

Violet wondered what Lachlan would have to say about it since it was his family’s distillery. Did he think there was a magical bottle down there? She looked down at the stone steps bathed in warm light from candle-style wall sconces.

They stood in a short line, waiting for a couple more people to arrive for the next round of the tour. The guide, who looked to be in his fifties with thick black rimmed glasses and a coarse goatee of copper and white informed them a group of twelve was the magic number, explaining that he'd only have to open one bottle of each of the sample whiskys, which would mean he wouldn't be obliged to take the leftovers home again "so they dinnae go to waste." His broad grin spread his goatee like a beard.

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