Page 19 of The Highland Game

Lewis pulls a face, half apologetic, half awkward. “We’ve not made any final decisions yet, but having you run the place is a significant investment of time and money, and . . . we’re not sure it’s pulling in enough to justify the cost.”

Emily says, “We need to consider whether this space could better serve the guests—and maybe generate more income at the same time.” Her tone is gentle but practical.

“Of course, we won’t be getting rid of a bar entirely,” Lewis adds. “For events like wedding receptions, for instance, we’d absolutely still have you serving drinks, either here or maybe we could set up something in the function room instead. But I just don’t know that we can continue having the snug open on days likes today when it’s so very . . . quiet.”

Crap. I can’t deny it’s a cushy job. Lounging in an empty bar, messing about on a video game, and drinking beer—which, let’s face it, the hotel’s technically paying for—isn’t exactly strenuous, but . . .

“If you’re trying to guilt-trip me into feeling bad about being paid to drink beer, then . . . it’s kind of working. But hey, someone’s got to keep Bruce company, right?”

Lewis’s expression hardens. “This is a business, Jamie. And sure, it’s a family one, and I’m very happy for you to work here but . . . you’re twenty-five now. At some point you’re going to have to start pulling your weight a bit more. We can’t drag you through life indefinitely, doing all the hard work while you just sit here playing games.”

His words hit home hard, largely because they ring true. I hate that he has a point.

Before I can respond, Elspeth sticks her head into the snug, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Oh, should I be at this meeting?”

“Er, no,” Lewis says. “Always nice to see you, Elspeth, but this meeting is about the snug. It doesn’t really impact your side of things.”

Elspeth has been the chef at the hotel’s wee restaurant since before I was born. She was my maw’s closest friend, and since I lost my parents when I was eighteen, she’s looked out for me and my siblings, in addition to always being there for her own two, Iona and Aidan.

Despite Lewis’s comment about the meeting not being for her, Elspeth steps into the snug properly to give Bruce a quick pat, earning herself a tail thump against the floorboards. “Well, don’t be too hard on the lad,” she says to Lewis and Emily. “Someone’s got to keep that stool warm, eh?” With a wink at me, she leaves just as quickly as she arrived.

I tap my finger against the rim of my pint glass and glance around the snug—the low wooden beams, the mismatched chairs, Bruce curled up on his dog bed like he owns the place. Quiet? Aye. But this is a special spot. It’s not just some old room in a hotel that can be changed to something else willy-nilly. It’s mine in a way I can’t quite explain, a place I’ve always felt at home. Growing up, Da and I used to watch rugby together here, for God’s sake. I had my first drink here. We can’t just close the snug and change it to something else. This is where I sit, and this stool isn’t giving up its favourite arse without one hell of a fight.

Okay, maybe I haven’t been pulling my weight—Lewis and Emily are right about that. And maybe, just maybe, I haven’t minded the lack of customers all that much. It does mean fewer interruptions from Highland Legacy, after all. But damn it, I can try harder, can’t I?

“What if I turn this place around?” I blurt out. “Make it busier? If we’re raking in more cash and it feels less”—I wave a hand at the empty chairs—“like a funeral parlour, would you consider keeping it open?”

Lewis arches a sceptical brow. Emily casts him a sidelong glance.

“Well . . .” she says slowly. “If you could make this place more profitable and . . . livelier, then yes, I suppose we’d reconsider. Right, Lewis?”

He nods. “But, Jamie, that’d involve you actually doing a bit of hard graft. You’re not going to change the snug’s fortunes by sitting on your arse playing games. Emily and I aren’t going to do the work for you, so if you’re serious about turning this place around, you’ll need to produce a plan showing us how you intend to do so, and you’ll need to prove to us you’re willing to roll up your sleeves and get stuck in. If, in a few days, nothing has changed and you’re still just pissing your life away in some virtual world, Emily and I will push ahead with our own plans.”

“Warning received loud and clear.” I lift my glass in a mock toast to them. “You know, I’ve been waiting for you two to give me a kick up the arse. It’s about time you got your act together.”

Lewis groans. “Aye, we’re the ones who needed to get our act together. Right.”

“I’ll be rooting for you, Jamie.” Emily’s lips twitch with the hint of a smile and she leans forward. “I’d love for you to prove us wrong and show us how amazing this place can be.”

“You can have the rest of the week to mull it over, but I want to hear at least one good idea from you by Monday.” Lewis stands, his chair scraping against the floorboards—loud enough to make Bruce lift his head briefly before settling back down again. “If not, it’s goodbye to the snug.”

“Challenge accepted.”

After they’re gone, I rake a hand through my hair and wonder just what I’ve got myself into. Then, remembering SassyLassie had something important to say, I flip my laptop open again. I’m still connected to the game—I set my laptop to not sleep when the lid is closed for just such occasions—and still in the chat with SassyLassie. My last message, BRB, sits there unanswered. Looks like she’s been waiting for me to return before spilling the beans.

LochNLoad

Sorry about that! Just had an “interesting” meeting. Long story short, I’m going to have less time for gaming going forward—real life’s calling.

I need to step up at work, bring in more customers, maybe even poach some from the competition down the road.

Anyway, what was it you wanted to tell me?

CHAPTER EIGHT

MAISIE

The message stares back at me like it’s a ticking bomb and I’m utterly unequipped to defuse it.