but it was, in my opinion, too cool for even a few inches of bare legs. I’d topped the dress with a plaid jacket and red silk scarf the same rich scarlet as the dress.
The light was fading when I pulled open the door to the shop.
“Oh there you are!” Maggie pronounced as if search parties with hounds had been combing the hills for me.
“Um, yes. Here I am.”
She made a rather dramatic show of whirling a houndstooth cape like a bull fighter before guiding it to settle just right around her frame. “Ready.” She smiled.
“Are we, um, riding? Or walking?”
“He’s just o’er there.” She waved in the general direction of the hills as she stepped out and locked the shop door.
“So how was business today?”
She chuckled. “Well, I’ll tell you this. You practically set a record for sales within minutes of arrivin’. We do no’ move items that precious often enough to make us rich.”
“No? Well, that’s disappointing. I guess this situation isn’t right for me then.”
Maggie stopped and turned toward me, looking stricken.
I laughed. “No. I was just kidding. Great excessive wealth never was one of my dreams.”
With a smile, she relaxed visibly. “This way,” she said as we resumed walking past the circle toward one of the cobbled streets that ascended the hill. “So, what are your dreams?” A bark of a laugh erupted from my solar plexus without permission. “’Tis funny? Which part?”
“I guess I’d been thinking I’m too old for dreams. But here I am walking in the most charming English village and possibly inheriting something better than I could’ve dreamed up.”
“There’re worse lots, to be sure.”
Hearing that made me curious about Maggie. “Tell me something about yourself. You’re Irish?”
“Oh aye. And old as the hills.”
“Single?”
“Ne’er had the slightest inclination otherwise. Although I’ve enjoyed a tryst now and then.” She winked. “I’ve worked at Hallows for a very long time. ‘Tis a good life. Good people. Good work.”
“Aren’t you worried about me disrupting your routine? Maybe you wouldn’t like working with me. Maybe we wouldn’t get along. Maybe you should’ve inherited the shop instead of me.” When that last sentence babbled from what had evidently become a free-range mouth, I immediately regretted saying it.
With a low chuckle she said, “I have what I need includin’ a lifetime appointment workin’ at the Hallows. You can no’ get rid of me if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”
I shook my head vigorously. “That is not what I was thinking.”
“Besides. ‘Tis nonsensical. We already do get along.” She pointed. “There ‘tis. Just ahead.”
You might say the solicitor’s house was located on the outskirts of the village if you wouldn’t feel silly talking in terms of ‘outskirts’ when the distance could be traversed on foot in five minutes. It was a gray stone house. Not large. Not small. Surrounded by a stone fence and ‘guarded’ by two border collie mixes who were beside themselves to greet us.
Despite the enthusiasm, they were well-mannered dogs. They ran in circles and leaped in the air, but did not jump on us.
“Well, Angus,” Maggie said to one of the dogs, “’tis always lovely to be greeted with such a display.” She turned to the other dog. “And how are ye this fine evenin’, Aisling?”
A wide smile had formed on my face. Partly because of the show the dogs put on and partly because I liked the way Maggie talked to them. If I stayed, maybe I would get a dog.
Maggie took hold of the large brass doorknocker and gave it three firm taps.
Within seconds, the door swung open wide and the dogs zipped by our legs to run inside past a gorgeous young blonde with a heart-shaped face and dazzling smile.
“Maggie! Come in!” Her enthusiasm was so palpable it made me feel like I’d failed as a hostess every time I’d greeted visitors, throughout my entire life. She immediately turned to me. “Mrs. Hayworth. Such an honor to have you in our home and welcome you to Hallow Hill.”
“She does no’ go by Mrs., Ivy. She prefers Ms.,” Maggie told our hostess. To me, Maggie said, “This is Lochlan’s wife, Ivy.”
When I stepped toward Ivy to offer my hand, I was treated to a variety of scents that were nothing less than olfactory delight. Ivy smelled like a garden.
“Please. Just call me Rita.”
Ivy had a megawatt smile. “What a beautiful name.”
I returned her smile while searching my memory. I could have sworn that Maggie had said Lochlan was advanced in years. I’m not completely naïve.