Page 30 of Of Heather and Thistle
“Not at all, Miss Campbell,” Isla assured her. “These thingstake time. Ye’ll want to explore the house and the grounds, get a feel for what ye have here. It’s not every day someone inherits a property like Glenoran, aye? It’s a big decision, and we’ll not rush ye.”
“Okay,” Heather said, feeling relieved to have a next step. “When can we set up the meeting?”
“I can get ye in with Mr. Reid himself,” Isla said, a note of pride in her voice. “He’s handled Glenoran’s legal matters for years.”
“That works,” Heather replied.
“Lovely. Mr. Reid can meet ye here in our Edinburgh office, or if it’s more convenient, he can make the trip to Glenoran.”
Heather glanced around her tiny kitchen, anxiety looming about the possibility of leaving this place behind. “I think I’d prefer to meet with him at the house…”
“Absolutely,” Isla chirped. “I’ll let Mr. Reid know so we can make the arrangements. Please do let us know when ye will be arriving to Glenoran. He’s a lovely man—patient and kind. Ye’ll be in good hands, Miss Campbell.”
“Thank you,” Heather said, the sincerity in her tone surprising even herself.
After ending the call, Heather leaned back in her chair while her eyes lingered on the papers scattered before her. She half-expected to blink and wake herself up, only to realize that this had all been a strange, elaborate dream because owning an estate in Scotland felt too extraordinary to belong to her otherwise ordinary life.
Her phone vibrated on the desk. Her stomach twisted slightly as she reached for it and braced for another message from Ivy or Mark. But the name on the screen caught her attention— Douglas Reid.
“Already?” she uttered with a flicker of surprise crossing her face as she unlocked her phone. His message was brief but carried a weight that made her nostalgic:
Miss Campbell,
I look forward to finally meeting you after all these years. Your mother’s family has entrusted our firm with affairs since the 18th century. Glenoran House has been a part of the MacKenzie family legacy since its construction in the early 1720s. It is a remarkable property steeped in history, and I understand it holds great sentimental value to your family.
As we meet to discuss your inheritance and its future, I will ensure that all legal and historical matters are handled with the utmost care and respect. Please let me know if there is anything specific you would like to address or prepare ahead of our meeting.
Rest assured, we are here to assist you in any way we can.
Yours sincerely,
Douglas Reid Esq.
Duncan & Reid Solicitors
Heather reread his words:…sentimental value to your family…
The phrase lingered in her heart, feeling heavy and unfamiliar,and stirring something she couldn’t quite name. She set the phone down and leaned back in her chair again, staring blankly at her window as the rain streaked over it outside.
Glenoran House! It was a relic of the past and untouched for years. But yet, there it stood just waiting for her to return— not just a place with a fancy name, but a piece of her own family’s legacy.
What would it be like to stand in those rooms and see the world her mother had left behind? …What would she find? …Would it feel like stepping into her own past or someone else’s? …Would it be painful like reopening a wound she’d carefully kept closed for years? …Or would it be like stepping into a part of her mother’s life that Heather had never had the chance to know—a glimpse of the woman behind the fading memories of her childhood?
She exhaled sharply and stood, shaking her head like she could physically shove the thought away. The motion startled Byrdie, who let out a tiny huff before leaping down from the couch.
“Wait… what am I doing, Byrdie?” She ran a hand through her hair, pacing.
“It’s just a house. Just some paperwork and old bricks. I’ll go, see what’s what, and then figure it out. No big decisions. No getting attached.”
She bent down, smoothing a hand over Byrdie’s fur, like she was trying to believe her own lie.
She tried to dismiss it, but a small persistent voice whispered that Glenoran House might hold more than bricks and history. It might hold pieces of her that she hadn’t even realized were missing.
She let out a settling breath as she sank back into the chairand typed a reply:
Thank you. I’ll book my flight soon and update you with my arrival time. I’d appreciate having someone meet me there.
She sent the message and stared out the window at the gray sky. On the one hand, her father’s house was waiting to be sold, knowing she’d have to handle more logistics soon—yet that felt like a closed chapter, one she never needed to reopen.
