no-frills concrete pier hugged the waterfront like arms, creating a small inlet for rowboats and motorized rafts. Lobster pots and trash bins cluttered the side of the road. A sign advertising wildlife cruises hung from the hexagonally shaped ticket office, along with scores of postcards in metal dumps, and a painted mileage post informing us that the North Pole was 2,200 miles to our north and New Zealand 12,875 miles to our south. Our ferry was moored alongside the pier, and waiting to board it were the wind-battered guests of Destinations Travel, clumped together like a massive clog in a kitchen pipe.
“Does anyone need motion sickness pills?” I asked as I circled the perimeter of their huddle. My goal today was to keep a watchful eye on Erik and Alex, but when I didn’t see them in the scrum, I figured they were probably shopping, which is exactly where I’d be if I didn’t have to play pharmacist. “They’re the chewable kind. And they’re more effective if you take them at least a half-hour before departing.”
Stella Gordon eyed me with suspicion. “Where’d you get them? In the same place where your grandmother got hers?”
My mouth fell open. “Stella! I would not offer you tainted pills … and neither did my grandmother.”
She shrugged. “How should I know? Maybe deviant behavior runs in your family.”
Deciding not to dignify that with a reply, I moved on, waving the package in the air. “Motion sickness pills, anyone?”
“Dick and I could use a couple,” Helen spoke up as she angled her head away from the wind. “But we’ll wait for George. He’s picking up a package at the gift shop.”
“Take mine.” I opened up the box. “They’ll be in your system quicker if you take them now.” I popped two tablets out of their foil-backed panels.
She stared at them self-consciously before driving her elbow into the small of Dick’s back.
“What?” He shuffled around to face her.
“Emily has motion sickness pills.”
Dick stood paralyzed for a moment, flattening his kilt against his thighs with both hands. “George is buying a new batch at the gift shop,” he said guiltily. He nodded toward the long red building attached to the ticket office. “So … we’re good.”
Was it my imagination, or was I being boycotted? “Suit yourself.” I turned next to Osmond, whose eyes widened desperately before waving off my offering.
“Thanks anyway, Emily, but … George is buying some hot off the shelf … in tamper-proof packaging.”
Oh, my God. It wasn’t my imagination. My own group didn’t trust me any longer! “My pills came in tamper-proof packaging.” I flashed the sheet with its eight bubbled compartments at him.
“There’s two missing.”
“They’re in my hand.”
“Aha.”
“So would you like one?”
“Nope. I’ll wait for George.”
Rattled by this unexpected show of mistrust, I forced the pills back into their compartments and blared out an announcement for my own sake as well as the groups’. “You don’t have to stand out here in the wind! You can wait in the gift shop until it’s time to board!” Considering the wind was rippling the flesh across everyone’s cheeks and cleaving permanent parts in hairlines, I thought it was a rather practical suggestion.
“Can’t,” balked Dick Stolee as he slapped his kilt down against his legs. “Don’t wanna miss the boat.”
“The gift shop is twenty feet away!”
Grace tilted her head toward her husband and lifted her eyebrows. “She just doesn’t get it, does she?”
Frustrated by my failed attempt to save them from themselves, I shortened the cord on my hood to draw it closer around my face, and scurried up the stairs that fronted the gift shop.
The shop was called First and Last in Scotland, and was the official waiting area for ferry passengers not hailing from Iowa. It was a typical tourist trap that specialized in Scottish crafts, souvenirs, books, maps, umbrellas, T-shirts, flags, stuffed sheep, and ice cream served in either cups or cones. I wandered down the aisles, dismissing any idea of purchasing anything, until I ran across a clearance sale on scarves. They weren’t the prettiest things I’d ever seen, but if Orkney turned out to be as windy as John O’ Groats, guests who didn’t have hoods on their jackets might be thankful to have them.
I grabbed a dozen and continued to the end of the aisle, spying George as I turned the corner, his back to me as he stood chuckling before a display of miniature thimbles and tea cups. “Aren’t you afraid the ferry is going to leave without you?” I