Page 9

“You cheated, Finn, I swear it.”

The old man shakes his head. “Och, don’t be a sore loser, Brodie. I did no such thing.”

“S’not possible to wineveryhand,” the other man—Brodie—grumbles.

The older man—Finn—shrugs as he begins picking up the cards. “Seems I can.”

Rhona is sitting in a rocking chair in the corner, working a pair of knitting needles, and she clears her throat, drawing the attention of the two men as they both finally notice me, their eyes landing on me at the same time.

Brodie’s mouth tilts into a frown, but Finn’s lips part as his eyes go wide, his hand coming up to press his palm to his chest. “Losh! Would you look at that?” He turns to Rhona, waving a hand in my direction. “She looks just like you did when we met, Rhonnie.”

Rhona doesn’t confirm this, just purses her lips and continues working her needles. Finn pushes up from his wicker chair with a grunt, shuffling over to me as fast as his short legs can carry him. He’s shorter than me by a good four inches or so, but his shoulders are wide and his chest is barreled, giving the impression that, despite his height, he was once an imposing man.

“Michty me,” he murmurs, reaching up to cup my chin. “Haven’t seen you since you were not but a wean. Didn’t we, Rhonnie? Not since Duncan’s last letter.”

I can’t help the question that tumbles out of my mouth. “He sent letters?”

“Aye, for a bit,” Finn says softly. “Until he realized he wouldn’t get an answer out of these auld fools.”

His voice drips with regret, and his expression looks pained as he stares at my face.

“You’ve grown into a bonnie thing, haven’t you?” he says. “So tall! Must get that from your mother. Certainly didn’t get that from us.”

“My dad was tall,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks flush under Finn’s scrutiny.

“Aye,” Finn chuckles. “Used to tease my Rhonnie that she must have had a tryst with one of the giants from town.”

“That’s enough, Finlay,” Rhona chides him from the corner. “Don’t overwhelm the girl.”

“Aye, aye.” Finn steps back, pulling his hand away from my face, but his eyes never stop taking me in. “Forgive me, lass. It’s like seeing my Duncan come back to me.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “For barging in on you all like this. I know I should have called first, but I thought—”

Finn waves me off. “Nonsense. Enough of that. You’re family. We’re happy to have you. Aren’t we, Rhonnie?”

Rhona doesn’t look as enthused about Finn’s sentiment as he does, quietly watching this exchange take place without saying anything.

“I appreciate that, Finlay,” I tell him. “Or Finn? I don’t know what you’d prefer.”

“Wheesht with that now,” he scoffs. “You’ll call me Grandpa or nothing at all, girl.”

“Oh, I…” My eyes dart from his to Rhona’s, but she gives me nothing except a cocked brow and a cool expression. “Sure. Grandpa. I can do that.”

“Och,” he rumbles, his voice sounding rougher. “I dinnae ken this day would ever come.”

His accent thickens with the emotion in his tone, and when he opens his arms and approaches me, I can’t find it in me to refuse him. I let him embrace me, and the comforting warmth he emanates isadmittedly welcome, familiar even. It’s enough to make my chest feel tight.

“Aye, but I’m keeping you all to myself,” Grandpa says, sniffling slightly as he pulls back. “You’ve met your granny, but this”—he turns to gesture to the man still hunched in one of the wicker chairs, eyeing me curiously—“is your cousin Brodie. He’s not much aulder than you would be, I think?”

Brodie’s mouth tightens and relaxes so quickly I wonder if I imagined it altogether, and then he’s pushing up from his chair and closing the distance between us to offer me his hand. “Welcome,” he says. “Nice to make your acquaintance. Sorry, Rhona didn’t give your name.”

“Keyanna,” I tell him. “But everyone calls me Key.”

“Oh, Rhona’s great-granny was named Keyanna,” Grandpa blubbers, fully crying now. He gestures to his wet eyes. “Forgive this auld boy. Never could hold it in.”

“It’s fine,” I say, feeling awkward as I shuffle from one foot to the other.

Brodie shoves his hands into his pockets. “So how long do we have you, Key? A nice long visit?”