In the Highlands of Scotland…
. . . Allison Tyler fingered the class ring around her neck as she gazed at Duncarragh. The castle rose up from a huge rock on the banks of the Loch Rhoswen, a silent testimony to times long gone.
. . . A lot must have happened in and around the castle’s walls over the centuries, she supposed. But none of that interested her all that much. She only wanted to know if those silent walls had witnessed one particular event. An event that hadn’t been explained in the six years since it had happened.
. . . If only walls could talk….
. . . She sighed and turned away.
. . . “Allison, dearie! Will you be wanting your breakfast now?”
. . . She looked up to find the keeper of this funny little inn beaming at her, a spatula in one hand and a towel in the other, as usual.
. . . She smiled. “Yes, Mrs. Murchieson. I’m coming.”
. . . The old woman nodded approvingly and led the way into the kitchen. “What will you do now?” she asked as she laid the plates on the table.
. . . Allison sat down and studied her toast. What should she do? Quite honestly? She didn't know. Her only idea had failed miserably. But perhaps that wasn’t too surprising. She would never have known that Gabe had planned on visiting this place if she hadn’t found that letter last month.
. . . “Well?”
. . . She looked up. “Huh?”
. . . “What will you do now?” Mrs. Murchieson repeated.
. . . “Oh!” She hesitated. “I…uh…don’t know.”
. . . The innkeeper helped herself to a seat at the table and a slice of toast. “How about this,” she said. “You tell me what you’re trying to do, and I’ll see if I can’t give you a few ideas.”
. . . Allison shrugged. Why not? The inn was Gossip Central. Who knew what Mrs. Murchieson might have heard.
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I've moved my blog, including the rest of the story, off of Blogger and onto my own website. You'll find the rest of this post and the comments here:
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