Page 61 of Love Bomb

Suddenly, Rona’s appetite returned. “Actually, can I get a bowl of chips? Extra salt,” she said pointedly.

The girl’s eyes sparkled as she smiled at Rona. “I’ll see if we have any and make sure it’s added to your order.”

“Tell me,” her father said with impatience, “is the shepherd’s pie beef or lamb?”

Without missing a beat, Polly turned and hollered across the bar. “Hey, Dougal, what’s the mystery meat in tonight’s shepherd’s pie?”

It was too much for Rona, she burst out laughing, much to her parents’ disapproval.

“Cheeky wee fart,” Dougal yelled back. “There’s no mystery about it. It’s Angus beef.”

The girl turned back to Rona’s father with a pleasant smile. “Guess we’re naming the cows now,” she said. “I kinda feel sorry for poor Angus. So, what’s the decision? You okay with eating a cow called Angus?”

Her father handed his menu to the waitress. “I’ll have the chicken,” he snapped.

“Probably for the best.” Polly made a note. “I don’t think we name those. Do you want yours without taste too, like your wife?”

“Ex-wife,” he snapped. “And I would like my vegetables al dente too. Please add a single malt whisky to my order.”

“I’d like some wine,” her mother added. “Since we’re taking drinks orders now.” There was a silent ‘at the wrong time’ attached to the sentence.

Polly was unbothered. “Red, white, or pink?” she asked.

Rona wished she could hire the teen to follow her parents around for the rest of their stay in Invertary. She was priceless.

“Chardonnay,” her mother sneered.

“That’s the white one, right?”

“Yes. The white one,” her mother said with disdain.

The waitress made a note. Then, still smiling, she gathered the menus and practically skipped back to the bar.

Sadly, any amusement Rona felt disappeared along with Polly.

“What do you need to talk to me about that takes two of you?” she said wearily.

“We’re here to talk some sense into you,” her father said. “The folly is our family legacy. It behooves us to care for it, and to ensure its safe passage to the next generation.”

“I am the next generation,” Rona said. “Trust me, it’s in good hands.”

“No, it isn’t,” her father said. “Not if you intend to damage it. What on earth are you thinking? Is this a misguided attempt to get our attention? Because you have it now.”

“No, I’m not trying to get your attention, I’m tryi⁠—”

“This is a tantrum, then,” her mother interrupted with conviction. “Punishment for our perceived sins, most likely. Please, tell me you aren’t still holding a grudge because we moved from Invertary to Edinburgh.”

“This isn’t about leaving Invertary,” Rona said through gritted teeth.

“Then why on earth are you doing this to us?” her mother said. “There can be no reason other than to make us suffer. Obviously, you want to humiliate us in front of society. It’s very childish, Rona. Very childish indeed.”

“Exactly,” her father said. “It’s the only excuse for your behavior.”

“The folly is our heritage,” her mother said. “A small piece of Dalgliesh imagination woven into the tapestry of Scottish history.”

“It didn’t take much imagination to build the folly,” Rona said. “And since when are you worried about preserving the past? You didn’t care about the Dalgliesh heritage wrapped up in the castle. Otherwise, you would never have sold it.”

“Do stop calling it a castle,” her mother said. “It’s barely a grand house. Mostly, it’s a poor reproduction of an ancient Scottish manor. Hardly worth thinking about, really.”